Most Liked Nature Poems (1,977)

Yellow glow
orbe so bright
Fiery tentical
Flames of light

Hot breath
Fires of heat
Send forth into the darrknes
The heat and light

Replenishred
It hydrogen gas
Fires burn that glows on the dark
We look to the night sky

That orbe shines bright
Heats are earth gives us light
Heats are oceans gives us life
Replenises are forest soaks up the oceans
Spreads the water on cloudy days
Forest bloom on rainy days

Spring is coming
when cool wind blowing ;

Spring is coming
when light rain falling ;

Spring is coming
when warm Sun beaming ;

Spring is coming
when faint fragrance floating ;

Far and near
echoed with birds singing;

Here and there
decorated with new green ;

Then now again
the new leaves whispered in the wind:
Yes ,the Spring is coming really!

For all of these
how can I not to praise you!

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.

The moon is slowly rising high
In the deep black velvet sky
Between the V of two stately trees
Its glorious Lunar light beckons me...

Crickets are chirping their nightly lullaby
Luring flickering fireflies to sleep
A beautiful evening such as this
Deserves to be a special memory to keep...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

What the hell have I
...but hands full of dust
From beneath that dead tree without shelter nor brush
Upon this desolate land without shadow or shade
Where the earth has been scorched and it's skin is decayed
Those who will enter shall fall by the sword
Then portioned to jackals gnawing the bones from before
What the hell have I
...but somber mournings at dawn
The tree replied life and death is what you hold in thy palm
It showed me love and hate inside of one grain of sand
Courage and fear within another then evolution of man
And It revealed something different from either hand I held clutched
For the ground that I stood was auctioned for material lust
Then it said as your shadow at morning is striding behind
Or your shadow rising at evening into infinite nights
I am older than angels and will live long after your death
I acquiesced then surrendered as my heart would reflect
Captivated by wild flowers growing upon rotted flesh
As song echoed from tombstones where willows made nest
What the hell have I
...upon this rented earth
A hand full of dust or the essentials of birth

~JJF ~

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.

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

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

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.

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~