An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
Red Flowers in a Broken Sky The flowers rise, like warnings in the air, Their red breath burning through a restless dream,
By George’s Girl 2026 14 days ago in Poets
spotted nature’s art made by leaves and gentle rain a gift of mindfulness. Note: I observe mindfully, as I go on my walks. One day, me and the kids spotted this beautiful art by nature.
By Seema Patel14 days ago in Poets
Sweeping the Sorrows Away I rise before the morning speaks, with quiet hands and steady breath, the weight of yesterday still clings,
How Can I Dream Upon A Star If The Sky Is Black How can I dream upon a star, if the sky is black, If night has swallowed every spark, and will not give them back,
I Saw the Sunset in Your Eyes I saw the sunset in your eyes, not fading, not leaving, but burning slow, a quiet fire across the soul,
Rotten fruit will fall on its own. No hand need pull it to the ground. Plentiful harvest won’t be known. Crows and maggots will feast around.
By Tina D. Lopez14 days ago in Poets
A hope after a disaster, flew up, awakening her. To search, to fly, to find the destiny she left fore. She flew with other species, following them.
By Aahna Rajesh15 days ago in Poets
Sitting here in the ashes of our sexual burnt out fire, Something that was big in the peak of our desire, Sexually for filling uncontrollably hot sex,
By George’s Girl 2026 15 days ago in Poets
What if the skies are god's eyes? Dark clouds spot her irises With blazing sun pupils Her gaze grows the roots in my garden
By Lolly Vieira15 days ago in Poets
The Summer of 1976 No one told the sun to stop, so it stayed, hotter than sense and longer than rules. The roads shivered with melted tar,
🙏 Help me Lord as I’am in grief, Let me pray for his relief. Give your wisdom to this prayer, Make Your wish always be there!
By CA'Di LUCE * Confessions & Memories in Conversations with friends!/ It’s not a revolution—it’s a quiet evolution.15 days ago in Poets
OUR HERITAGE dirty old town * I live in a place where the streets are kept clean; The air is easy to breathe. When I think of the city where I used to live,
By Margaret Brennan15 days ago in Poets
