Poetry Blogs (2017, Nature)

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The latter of the two

This is short and to the point.

life.

no the Earth.

The Earth has given you two choices:

The first being as a scorpion trapped in the deceptive tangles of a well made web, a lemming in man's cycle of destruction, of both the mind and the physical.

The second being as a frog, cherishing the habitation and nourishment received by the lily pad that springs forth of the moist bed, allow...

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beautydeathlifenature

To the Waves and to the Sun

entry picture

You have always been my favorite,

The moment you reach the shore,

With every move you make,

To touch the sand,

Where I wait,

With every sound of splash,

To heal my soul,

Where I am.

 

You have always bewitched me,

The moment you creep towards the sky,

With every climb above the clouds,

To cast reflection,

Where I am,

With every ray you set free,

To reac...

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lovelove poetrynatureoceansun

The Swan Effect

The Swan Effect                                                                                                                                          Your slender neck and wings so clean

Graceful movement, so serene,

The purest feathers which you preen

Are what attracts the eye.

 

Curves and power, gliding slow,

Majestic as a river flow

Sleek and gently strong you go

Sli...

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depressionnature

Roaming amongst the giants

entry picture

Roaming amongst the giants -
Sooth your mind when you lay next to me.
Trust upon your senses when you roam amongst my white giants. 
Taste, when you take in my fruits. 
Listen, when you hear me whispering.
Feel, when the lake gravitates up on you. 
Watch, and see your spirit transcend away. 
Smell, can you detect my presence?

In my kingdom.
Everything is redefined,
Even time

And i c...

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nature

Running Power

Running

I feel

Nothing

But:

Heart whipping the veins

Legs pounding

Lungs heaving

Breath chugging

Muscles relieving

And I'm accelarating faster

And faster

And faster

Till I beat the wind

My legs a blur

Sometime

My legs will tire

But my spirit flies

Yonder

And free

Like the wind

With a whoosh

And

Whoop-tee-dee...

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freedomnaturepoetryrunningsports

An archer of the woods

I am an artist of words,
an archer of the woods. 
A constellation of the brightest stars.
An adventurous being,
with dreams that follow the galaxies. 
I seek only wonders,
I seek only peace.
Not mistake me as an ordinary piece. 
My arrow strikes in the souls of others.
It does not have an aim but it follows,
it stays inside like a deep wound. 
It does not break, it just gets stuck. 
St...

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coupleshuman naturelovedmyselfmysteriousnaturewonders

Poetry mix

1.

Time goes on

The world does too

Our Nature grows and dies

Our technology expands and flies

We manifest and destroy

To make ends meet

Even with passing days

We forget about the increasing heat

Or the decreasing ice sheets

Nothing seems important

To global tyrants and corporations

But money and power

At the cost of decreasing our showers

We accept it whic...

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colordescriptionsemotionshaikuhatelimericklovenaturepoemsthinkingworld

Two bird poems

Heron Taking Flight

 

Rickety, this ruckle

of struts and ragged canvas,

a collapsing tent

of awkwardness

unmade by the earth,

by degrees cranks into

its one true element:

slipping tethers

into air.

________

 

Preliminary Findings

 

Preliminary findings

suggest a probable

leakage of fuel

before the tank exploded.

(Cockpit not located

at th...

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birdsnaturewildlife

A warm welcome ...

Hi Everyone,

The Isles of Scilly are a jumble of granite scraps thrown down twenty-eight miles west from the coast of Cornwall. Five of them offer shelter and a living for some one and a half-thousand people. Needless to say, for a community that sits permanently in the eye of Atlantic storms through the winter, and basks in beautiful, temperate Gulf Stream-fed summers, there is no shortage of ...

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Isles of Scillynatureweatherwildlife

Winter's Wolf

The sharp-toothed skirmisher of January past

passes its knives by her cheeks;

the hillside heralds its shredded brown visage,

winter’s wolf howls the bitter conquest of the moors.

 

The season of concealing crowns and faces,

of cautious feet across the maze of wilted souls

to reach the lone tree, grey lightning petrified in time.

Frozen into the bark are age and time.

 

...

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depressionironylosslovenaturewinter

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