An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
The concrete garden cracks its skin where silicon used to scream Will a verdant tide come rushing in to end the digital dream?
By Sara Wilsonabout an hour ago in Poets
I’m on my way back home again. Last dog-eared ticket in my pocket – time for it to finally unfurl. I’m on my way back home again.
By Cristal S.about 10 hours ago in Poets
The Man Who Came To Help At 4am The road was empty, silent, frozen still, At 4am where breath turned into smoke, My hands were shaking on that broken wheel,
By George’s Girl 2026 about 11 hours ago in Poets
Some nights the water forgets its own name and becomes a mirror for the things we cannot reach— the crescent moon, pale and certain,
By Prompted Beautyabout 11 hours ago in Poets
In the quiet of dawn, it began, A whisper of life, a gentle span. Soft as a breeze, tender and new, A rhythm of hope, pure and true.
By Zain writesabout 15 hours ago in Poets
These flights of fancy color my world in bold brushstrokes of eroticism, lush sensory details about textures and flavors: rich rough reds, deep velvet chocolatey greens,
By Harper Lewisabout 18 hours ago in Poets
Warm winds breeze through the valley as birds wake up and sing their excitement. The cold river roars as the snow melts as
By Fiona Howellabout 19 hours ago in Poets
If Only I Could Turn Back Time If only I could turn back time, I would step lighter on that forked road, the one turn I took,
By George’s Girl 2026 about 23 hours ago in Poets
Oh no! It is snowing The wind is blowing It is cold then Not sure when snow will leave us We won't fuss As we are used to this
By Denise E Lindquista day ago in Poets
It's coming Starting showing signs Emotional swings Annoyance rises Noises get louder and harder to ignore It's coming
By L.I.Ea day ago in Poets
The city does not sleep. It does not wake either. It lingers— somewhere between a breath taken and a breath held too long.
By Mariana Fariasa day ago in Poets
The Robin Who Loved Humans He did not fear the open hand, nor tremble at the human breath, he stood where voices gathered close,
By George’s Girl 2026 a day ago in Poets
