Most Liked Nature Poems (1,977)

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I have a place I long to be, Forty minutes from our home
Looking over ponds towards the neighbouring sea
I try to arrive, before sunrise, to wait and see the dawn.
Beyond waterfowl, whose cries announce, a new day has been born.
To watch the changing light, and kaleidoscopic sky
Royal spoonbills flying in the early morning sun
Honkings and quackings, Ducks and Swan fly by,
The glowing dawn fades, and this new day, has really begun

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It is known as Miranda, after a beached gun-boat, long ago
More famous now for Shore-birds, They may be seen, to come and go
It is the southern staging post, for Godwits, Knots and more
They've flown here in a single hop, From Alaska's foreign shore.
Where they go to nest, and raise their young, in a strange and alien land
They face there, many predators, eagles, owls, foxes and bear
Strange.., for down here, they have no such dangers to fear
Such is nature, and here I am, I ponder as I gaze in awe, and stand.

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The marvels of creation so long here concealed
Are being slowly studied, unravelled and revealed
We now know that the journey North is in two or three stages
It is according to the weather, the birds encounter on the way
But the reverse journey ,one hop, taking 5 to 7 days
The mysteries of migration are being studied
Radio transmitters, colour bands and other modern ways
The questions of their lifestyle, unfolding on each tide.

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The Northern arctic migrants spend the summer over here
Living on marine worms known as polychaetes,
Molluscs and bivalves probing with their bills
Some swishing side-ways and cleaning mud with a swill
They fatten over the summer putting on the weight
Getting ready for the return journey, awaiting a date
In March or Early April, when weather patterns suit
and in smallish numbers they gather and off they shoot.

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Often their first feeding stop is in the Yellow Sea,
China, Korea, North and South, they not fussy if they're "free"
Human politics are affecting the shorebirds feeding spots
In-filling and reclamation is drying up the nourishing posts
as these nations claim land masses from estuarine feeding grounds
So our Shore-Bird Centre has become famous on the world stage
With contacts in those regions, revealing what they've found
For if such development proceeds, the birds will surely go! (cont'd in Part 2)

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Into oblivion, become extinct you see,
and that is why I go and stand there by the sea
To watch a new day dawn, to see the Godwits rise
To see this very wonderment, right here before my eyes
Why they nest on perma-frost in Alaska or Siberia far away
Feeding on a diet of berries and grubs, a change from diet here,
How they absorb their intestine, for fuel on the flight,
How they stay aloft during the day and through the night ?

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There are so many questions, we have yet to find out
A long enduring study, is now being carried out
With International cooperation, and birders on the ground
Answers to many questions are now truly being found
The adult birds leave their fledglings behind to fend
By themselves, while Mum and Dad hurriedly wend
Ao-tea-roa bound, estuaries and mudflats, to nourish their
Tired bodies, and fatten up again, to begin the cycle o'er again

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This has gone on for aeons, and so I stand amazed
Looking on the wetlands, Watching the sun arise
The changing cloudscape unfolds before my very eyes
God is in His Heavens and reveals a little more
To those who search and ask, he will reveal even more.
So these frail tiny birds some as small as a sparrow
Make the long long journey twice a year
and so I stand and wonder ,
have I made myself clear?

Sunshine on my face
and the shadows
the lingering
of the wind
blowing softly
like a butterfly
wings
as a moth
closes in
on
the flicker
of a flame
hearing
rustling breeze
the crashing
of the waves
the koki frogs
screaming
and the sound
my own heart beat
as sunshine fades
and the moon rises
again
there are shadows
they disappear
way too soon.

Mindful is madness
Mindless mannequins baffle
Steady stream of flies

Trapped in burning light
Painful electrocution
Pesky human plight

Zapping to a crisp
Attracted in blinded faith
Antidote to sin

Greater by design
Most darkful persecution
Guilt that lies within

Cast over water
Departed spirits will fly
Life begins again

when you see the angels fly like blossom in the wind at night bringing on the doves whom cry,
flaming fires from within thy eyes with smoke like clouds that doth arise well above the sky so high,
shivering in the downing mist of the days morning lights like paupers begging to survive n crows that fly within the white lines,
minds so clouded like the air of ruins filled with smog from alleyways to city lights,
life just seems to be parted your way for the likes of a darkened life,
mind wide open upon thy knees knelt beyond thy bed i prey to what i believe to be god,
asleep i fall and awake again with the hope of new days and old eras long passed and left behind,
my hope is alive and will survive be gone the evils in my life ,
for today brings a new life for i so now i prey smiles will delight,
mine the greatest of all delight so good day i bid and strengh be near,
for darkness comes to test our life and we off all i promice will survive ,
so now i bid you a good bye.

The clouds separate at
different parts in the
sky to allow the sky to
shine through.
The sun come in as if
to greet you with a
smile asking you to join.
Different shapes and
sizes, even some clouds
are objects that we can
see floating in the sky
as if their coming to
greet you.
Look up at the sky to
see what is up there
for you and me.
Beauty is everywhere
all you, have to do is
just look there.
For something is waiting
to be seen by you and
even me too.
Never let beauty pass
you by as you do not
know what you have
missed or even what
was to be if only
if you would notice me.

it's got a beak that looks like a set of chopsticks
have been shoved in the front of it's face
it has whiskers at the start of that and uses them just like a cat
it's got tiny little matchstick wings
they're itty bitty little things
it's got feathers that look more like fur
they don't look like feathers at all
but if you think they do, i'll demure
it lays eggs that are half the size of it's body
i can't say i'd enjoy that myself
its eyes are beady little things
not out of scale with it's wings
the scales that coat it's legs are fishy
it's hips are huge and kinda trippy
basically it's a walking bum
for laying eggs or making a run
with a straw on the front for sucking up worms
with no remorse as they wriggle or squirm
how they manage when out on a date
is a total bloody mystery mate

scatter my ashes on the banks of the Waipa
on the nor'eastern bank going south against the flow
from the point at Wahiangarua to the little reserve at the edge of town on Whatawhata rd,with the struggling Titoki,the cut up stolen ute and where someone dumped a whole trailor load of dog shit

son scatter my ashes on the bank of the Waipa

not in it, it's dirty enough,laden as it is with runoff from Te Kuiti north
hiding inunga, tuna, mullet, not so aptly named fresh water mussels and thousands of mankinds sins

please scatter my ashes on the bank of the Waipa

scatter them there and i'll fight the barstards, the evil suffocating hordes
i'll fight them from the inside out, from the ground up
i'll damage the roots of the convolvulus and the honeysuckle letting in pathogens and the sun will do the rest
then i'll merge with the molecules of the woolly nightshade and vibrate them at at the speed of light till any volitiles they contain spontaneously combust in a flaming climax worthy of some democratic protestant subversives
the small privets i'll leave as they eventually become homes for multitudes of weta, but the big ones i'll have to ring bark or something, i don't know i haven't got a plan,you might have to cut them

so boys scatter my ashes on the bank of the Waipa

and the native trees can struggle on for another year of malnourished growth in the barren pumice sand mixture deposited by the last king country deluge
[and don't forget to visit]
[bring beer]
[love use]

How do you define anything as living,alive or a life on it's own?
Stop for a moment and ponder on this question?
What are the living things?
To breathe and move are living species,
From up on land and down the ocean floor.
And what about the air we breathe,
The water we eagerly drink,
The sun we get shine on,
Or the stars and moon we gaze upon?
Are these living or not?
Where is their eyes,heart and soul?
Do they get angry,happy or sad?
Do they make babies just like that?
Please tell me coz I like to know the facts.
P.S...Did you know hurricanes have names!

whispered breath.....upon my door
what direction.....i can't ignore
dawn breaks .......colours in awe
as birds in tune......sing galore
still the trees......as i lookout
no sound i hear..no roar or shout
wondering .......on a womans pout
as i search....... my heart about
treading gently .....to the shore
through palms an paths that i saw
filtered light ....on green spore
a well worn path....... once more