Last Commented Nature Poems (1,977)

Moon you serenade me nightly
casting your beaming silvery rays
touching and filling my weary soul
with awesome magical perfection

Watching you in your various phases
crescent sliver you delight and enchant
yet too your half sends heartfelt shivers
as you wax your way to full glowing light

Moon dear moon you rule my senses
as you wane, the sea's tides join you
making my moods shift with your cycles
your whims commanding earth herself

I serenade and worship your beauty
disliking intensely nights you are cloaked
when clouds hid you from earthly sight
then with a peek you emerge triumphant

And now once more my heart rejoices

December 1, 2012

I seek this day, the heart of the forest,
with my purpose to heal my own heart there.
The place I whisper my cherished secrets,
and find myself bowing in humble prayer.

The place where comfort is all shades of green.
Where branches low, are great welcoming arms.
Wisdom whispers back from the aged trees,
as I free myself from all thought that harms.

Here I am safe; the heart of the woodland,
where the midday sun shares its warmth with me.
How sweet the song of a tiny sparrow,
swaying on the limb of a young pine tree.

Every mushroom to dot the forest floor,
is as peaceful a sight as the butterfly.
Wildflowers, squirrels and trout in the lake,
add to the calm as they coax me to sigh.

The hours drift by in my favorite place.
So do the clouds with their shape-shifting play.
The urgent matters that first brought me here;
like clouds, those troubles have drifted away!

November 4, 2007


Subtle shape shifters, spirits of water magic,
kin of the wind since time was very young.
The secrets of the ancients, known to earth and sky,
praised by human voices - earth spirit song.

Each bird, and every creature to crawl or fly,
speaks in its own way to share this grand tale.
The magic that welcomes every dawn with a sigh,
parting two worlds through a thin misty veil.

Spirits of thriving vine and wise grandfather tree -
spirits of the meadows, marshlands and field.
Mountain spirits whisper to virgin lakes and streams,
worlds unto themselves, untouched and concealed.

Deep caves, high cliffs and spirits of thundering surf,
carry forth mist where plump blackberries grow.
Earth spirits of root, leaf, bark and fertile soil,
entwined in sacred rhythm, life's unending flow.

Spirits of cloud, of equal seasons and weather,
touch every living thing, each day and night.
They turn the crisp pages of history's making;
the journey awaiting each of us to write.

The wind was strong last night
when I came to bed...
And the thought of surf
in the harbour
wouldn't leave my head...
so I knelt and prayed...
for the tropical depression
to bring to our waters
some good decent surf
I woke up this morning
with your kiss on my forehead
I noticed as you left
wind had died down
no chance for a surf
Even now as I write this...
It is so calm ...
It feels absurd
Then Easter flashed
thru my mind...
And somewhere in the distance
Agnes Waters visited my head
I hope you'll take the chance.
Dip your hands into your bucket list
pick one that you can tick
To give your loving heart and soul
that much needed push and lift

If I were the water of your
natural bath,

I would change the
natural order of things,

And stay and wait for your
naked return.

~SAS~

Roses are flowering her in Brittany,
like as a Nun's God given care,
cloistered robed in unsung divinity,
flourish in its soft fragrant air,
far from Winter's deep untrodden snow,
in unearthly ways weaves her spell,
loves quietude, like bounteous rivers flow
revive the spirit more than words can tell,
thus with thee here and with my heart,
the Rose's perfume shall around us play,
intoxicate the hours of our hand held day,
where silence sweet, soft thoughts impart,

Embrace with me this earthly care,
words but vain where love is rare.

Poet to Poet- Journal Entry
5-1-14

metaphors screaming/
idioms bleeding/
shatchmo cries/

falling in behind the windows .............
closing drapes
and doors ............
opening minds
and computer screens ...........

connecting
with words

and ideas

and understanding
how a poem
seeks
another poem
for comfort .........

how a poem
seeks
another poem
for direction .........

how a poem
seeks
another poem
for balance ............


using the candlelight
as a stage

using the jazz
as a stage

using your mind
as a stage

and how we understand
the shadows

(pause)

poetry
as meditation

poetry
as thought

poetry
as a form of understanding,
though not quite the same
as true understanding,
but still,
understanding

poetry
as religion

poetry
as desire

poetry
as passion /
and as the way
we see the world
around us

and as the way
we want to see the world
around us

my words
are the words
of a writer........

not of one
who simply writes .........

Poets have the embers
smoldering inside.........

Poets have the heat
and the vision

Poets have the passion
and the purpose ..........

Poets have the direction
and the trust .........

Poets have the hunger to hold things tight
in their hands,
and to try to understand them .........

(pause)

every poem we write
draws us closer
to ourselves

every poem we read
draws us closer
to ourselves

every thought we think
draws us closer
to ourselves

when we see ourselves fully,
then
we will be seeing
the truth

~SAS

Flowing across the street
as if doing something so
simple as to take a walk.
Delighting my eyes with
the colors of the rainbow.
Music playing as it roars
into a crescendo rising up
to great you as if to say
H..E..L..L..O..
This music is carried on
the winds of the world as
it is being played just
for you.
Open your eyes ears to all
the beauty that is before
you it might surprise you.

softly Juliet --
bees in the callistemon
their wings a flutter

The late lit hour appears to be a dark conspiracy
from Heavens once bright azure gold spun sky,
so, in heavy heart, bid day farewell that oft
turns to soothe its pains with colours soft
amid dimly burning beams of blazing stars,
in that low light of quiet distant from afar,
such hypnotic purity, yon pulsating seas
perfumes realms of sanctity, each daily anniversary,
bequeaths a healing silence o'er its twilight shore,
embalms sweetness on the threshold of life's door,
to recede in quietude where fragrant airs are made
in all its glowing brilliance of furnaced colours played,
loitering long in a tinge woven captive bower
before the lap of Morpheus our drowsy dreams devour,
so in this tranquil hour review our anguished day,
whence we in laboured toils, envy others slothful play,
who wallow in the very flame of a fickle burning fire,
whose lust laden coals fuel an hours fragile desire,
painted bright, in all that visual tones include,
a perfect canvass, garlands of hopeful vicissitude,
leaves a narrow view in backward looking eyes,
reaps no more than each earthly hour's surprise,
such their gloried time in veneer of virtue quaint,
remember well, each days anger and complaint,
thus to the future blind that still born minds attack,
wise to fast flown days, yet tomorrows vision lack,
Life's dear future, art as a distant star to me,
a vast and hidden treasure in our colossal galaxy,
that with softer grace receive our earthly scorns,
a human frailty, that we in shame should mourn,
So, cast the envied stone that corrupted greed employs,
in callousness of wanton time, a perfect hour destroys,
sterile shallowed thought wastes our life's career
amid haunted avenues of desperations fear,
So, fear annul and from greater regions of above,
kindle understanding, form a new found love,
from evening's vespers that heaven in fondness wear,
invites all latent thoughts, genii of creation share,
beneath the starry canopy, lies life's enchanted lover,
imaginations wealth, in ritual warmth discover,
like the artistry of embroidered lace, nature upon us heap,
purity of starlight, visions kept in sleep,
imparts its sparkling hue on earth's darker face,
commands a breathless view of beauties truthful grace.