Nature Poems Quotes

“Be like the sun
who fell in love with the moon
and shared all his light.
Be like the moon
who became a lighthouse
to guide others in the night.
Be like the mountains
who were once hills
that wanted to kiss the sky.
Be like the trees
who are firmly grounded
but dream up high.
Be like the waves
who play and tickle
each other endlessly.
Be like the children
who enjoy and live
in the present entirely.
Be like the God
who equally loves
everything and everyone.
And be like the love
who brought compassion
when she visited the sun.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“Loving you is in my nature
Like how the leaves fall
And petals know just when to open
It's something unspoken and unknowable
And yet I feel it all the same.”
― Emily Brandt, Love Letters From Hades

“I feel you calling, in the autumn sweet transformation.
I have reached my brightest green to the gold burning sun.
I have folded my colours into the wind,
bright colours taken to the sky.
My silk has gone to moisture in the rising atmosphere
and I am your colours again, deep and warm.
I hear your calling and I answer,
I come back to you, to slip inside the dark.
Will I be found by the decaying things?
Will I be found by the roots and drunk by tree and flower?
Will I slip and mingle and roll along,
find my way to a river and with it dance,
and give myself in a sigh to the ocean?
Will I scatter, a few fragments of sand –
my body to glisten beneath a caress of moonlight
as I make my way towards no more
as I find my way to forever”
― Tamara Rendell, Mystical Tides

“Ha! the quaint,mystic smiles of night are well, unlocked;for the odd fancier to please by her calmness,and that halcyon state of musing, keenly touched me,it has all of mind’s solid, restful access.”
― Nithin Purple, Venus and Crepuscule

“To say that people weren’t aware, from the first, of the effect the Industrial Revolution was having on nature—and on themselves—is to commit a falsehood.”
― Sara Barkat, Earth Song: A Nature Poems Experience

“We wake everyday with soft tunes of Nature, her beats give us an impulse to live, though in agonies, she spreads the light, for our fleeting dreams to be true!”
― Nithin Purple

“The Crowned Snail by Stewart Stafford

The vortex-shelled snail,
Hermit rider of the dome,
Silver trails cross the garden,
This green, perennial home.

Playing Russian Roulette,
With giant feet or wheels,
Survivor of stone attacks,
Battering rams birds wield.

A journey with no beginning,
Nor a destination to travel to,
Snug in his fortress castle,
A crowned king, incognito.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Watery Cosmos by Stewart Stafford

O realm of Poseidon,
Dura Mater of all hidden -
Salty soup of subtle plankton,
And breaching whales unbidden.

O friendly ocean,
Looking glass of sky steep -
Shooting stars bioluminescent
Whirlpool galaxies of the deep.

This savage playground,
Cradling hurricane fury,
The birthing pool of the living,
A submerged mass cemetery.

As light fades fast above,
So a lunar-dark seabed rears up,
Slowly enveloping all and sundry,
Surface in a seahorse stirrup.

Seeds from the Amazon,
Passengers of the Atlantic Conveyor,
Nestling on English coasts
Gifts of an aquatic purveyor.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Cycle's Whisper by Stewart Stafford

A crisp mountain breeze,
Whispers on verdant meadows,
In the starlings' murmuration,
Bodies flutter as the wind blows.

River salmon leap upstream,
To the places of their siring,
All the tests of life in the flesh,
With thrashing bodies expiring.

Starving bears lie in wait to
Shorten the fading quest,
Or a moribund swim home,
To a watery boneyard's rest.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Spinning Year by Stewart Stafford

Warm days, leaves of green,
Winter's looming touch between,
Harvesting in chill of night,
Spiders crawl in roused delight.

Rearranging the hibernacle,
My living quarter tabernacle,
To see out the darkened months,
Until come Spring's timed shunts.

Emerge into a world of change,
Earth's mother hand will rearrange,
Another tree ring sagely earned,
See around a new corner turned.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Listen to the language of the trees
they speak in silence
learn that alphabet.”
― Christina Strigas, love & gaia

“Wings of fire

It was a strange sight,
That brought feelings of excitement and fright,
A butterfly with wings of fire,
One representing wishes and the other meant to hoist her every desire,
There seemed to be no place where she could not go,
I had never seen her before, not even long ago,
Wherever she went, she set all flowers on fire,
Creating blazing gardens of endless desire,
Where wishes like pollen dust scattered everywhere,
Lifted by the ever rising flames and then dispersed here and there,
And wherever it fell,
There was no beauty to be felt and no stories to tell,
Because the flames turned the dust into a secret alchemy that resembled the inferno of hell,
Gardens burned, lands were parched, it was a diabolic sight that no words can explain well,
So, wherever the butterfly with wings of fire went,
It left trails of fire and devastation, with nature’s will broken and completely bent,
The butterfly used to be beautiful once,
It loved to fly and freely dance,
Until it was caught in a man made drought,
Leaving it exhausted and distraught,
As its wings stiffened and fell,
And it began collapsing into the hell,
There somehow she developed wings of fire,
To claim her unfulfilled wishes and her every desire,
And since then she has been on a rampage,
Nature too does not want to contain her in the cage,
Because she is avenging its losses,
So, now she recklessly all heights and every length crosses,
Wherever she goes the world of blazes and fires blooms,
With just one prospect, that of gloom and endless dooms,
Her desires are infinite, so her wings will never lose their fire now,
There is only one way to stop her, via a kiss of love,
But who would dare to kiss the wings of fire,
Let alone the act, the very thought does scare and tire,
Maybe the world, her world and our world will soon be reduced to cinders,
And we can only hope that someday she forgives us all, her offenders,
But behold the act of providence,
Her only means of guidance,
The wet drops of rain are soothing her hot and blazing wings,
And as her wings regain their natural and colourful shades, she once again sings,
Hopefully this spell of beauty lasts longer,
And humans and beautiful butterflies will once again learn to live together!”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!

“Morning's Serenade by Stewart Stafford

Stirred by a magpie's auction bids,
I opened up our curtained eyelids,
To pale dawn's reverential blinking,
Beyond my lady's distant inkling.

Anointed by the infant sun's rays,
I stand in regal morning’s praise;
Surveying virgin domain’s expanse,
Before the hatchling public dance.

The early-risen owl hoots carried far,
The songbirds played off fading stars,
Cockcrow drew in a loping red fox,
Scattering fawns and sheep flocks.

My lady spent, sports a drowsy crown,
Her chest rises, then slowly down,
Cityscape visions to last night's desire,
Golden tresses tossed in oriole fire.

To the kitchen, a connoisseur's start,
A lover's labour, a chef's work of art,
Crack avian treasures, new life's motif.
Ground coffee, perfumed weekend relief.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The Birnam Oak by Stewart Stafford

Medieval guardian, limpet oak,
Reinforced branches, sunlit soak,
Gnarled limbs in supplicant pose,
A statuesque deity in thorny repose.

Set up tent 'neath a canopy deep,
Where my pilgrim forbears sleep,
Midges swarming campfire's glow,
And drowsy me, to slumber go.

May roots prosper far from sight,
Defying storm, flame, chainsaw's bite,
Give verdant breath to creation's plan.
Until Earth falls from human hand.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“God's Grand Weather Machine by Stewart Stafford

Some say: 'Send storm clouds back to sender;
Into God's omnipotent weather machine.'
Let them come, I say, and cleanse me,
Reborn for the second time as a teen.

Improvising with nature's gifted props;
Perspective in motion, despite the scene,
To go without sleep for fear of nightmares?
Insomniac strike - we're dreamers, not the dream.

Skies beyond our grasp caress down;
As raindrop punctuation marks careen,
Spin your watery partner on the floor,
Absent of weather critics venting spleen.

Thunderous applause greets our every move,
Hoping lightning's ovation strikes the forest trees.
We shuffle and shimmy as sky spray slicks steps,
Dancing to judges' scorecards of degrees.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford