Poems and Poetry

nature poems

Golden Days | A Poem by Roy Pullam

There is a mint
In my front yard
The rich gold
Banked
Beneath the sugar maple
I feel wealthy
The beauty
So grand
That passersby
Slow to take
In the sight
It is the blessing
Of fall
When nature
Gives its final gift
Before it
Brings on death
The exposed skeletons
Of the trees
The brown grass
The ghost of wind
Tapping my shoulder
Penetrating me with dread
The chill
Going to my bones
I will pause
Knowing how short
The time
Before they become missiles
Flying in neighbor’s yards
Before I scoop
Them up
Exposing the ground
To the frost
Yet to come

Raindrops | A Poem by Roy Pullam

I do not understand
A raindrop
Its chemistry so precise
Though unique
Yet it has the conformity
Of millions
Kindred element combinations
What coaxes it
From the clouds
The subject of prayers
Both before and after
First reluctant
Then with a rush
Becoming a flood
I can’t fathom
How it can help
So much
Then turn in rage
Carrying hopes and ambitions
Downstream
It is the nature
Of water
To be
A blessing and a bane
To defy both
My beseeching
And my curse

Storm | A Poem by J.K. Durick

After it blew itself out, the mood lightened
brightened enough like the light rain it left,
we go outside and walk in the gentle rain
it left, a reminder of sorts, now we pick up
the branches and bunches of leaves it left,
tattered pieces left over, things affected but
easy to deal with, like the light rain it left.

Ireland 2007 | A Poem by Roy Pullam

It is as if
God formed the cliffs
With a serrated knife
The uneven cuts
Home for the puffins
Their nests in the recesses
Bald peaks
Inhospitable to man
But a refuge
For animals
His actions have destroyed
From the time
He walked this land
The ocean rolls below
Slamming waves
Against the shore
A great growl
Reminding us
Of its power
Luring us with its crystal
Shimmering glass
Until with force
It reclaims
Its sovereignty
After giving
It takes
A timeless tyrant
Challenging those
Who bravely
Go to sea
I stand
At the ragged edge
Feeling small
Finding my true place
In the vastness
Of the world

Storms | A Poem by Martin A. David

Every wind dust-thick
The air is green
Of tree green
Grass green
Grey green death.
Heat is a breathing thing
World filling
Head filling
Blue spaces filling
Between purple clouds
And invisible clouds
Like tons of corpse hands
Stroking faces
Of walkers
In storm city.
Dust-thick wind
Grows crueler
Purple grows black
Gasping grey green of death
Filters light.
Far away
A white hot whip cracks
And huddled children count the seconds
Before the whiplash roars
The scary welcome sound
God moving furniture
Upstairs
(Why can’t we run outside and see Him?)
Dust-thick wind
Makes trees drunk
Drunken trees dance
Like joyous Hassidim.
Torn newspaper
Gets up alive
And runs somewhere
In circles
Nowhere
Secret place.
First drops fall
Like bullets
Through dust-thick wind
Death grey green
Heavier
More
More
Splashing drops
Splashing
Flash and groan
ROAR
Crescendo crescendo crescendo
(Witches fly in that magic time)
When hot clouds
Burst
Like crushed bodies.
Storm wind
Screams
Whips tree frenzy higher
Blood drops
Rain
From black sky
Black clouds
Black rain
Black trees
Black wind
Black screams
Frozen in memory
By whiplash flashed
Of blue ice light
Darkness again
And then the roar
God breaking furniture
Upstairs.
Earth throbs
Turmoil of lovers
Rising falling
Rhythms
Faster
Slower
A million ecstasies before
Crescendo crescendo crescendo
Writhing
Fiercely tender
Biting Clawing Stroking
Now NOW
Lightening thunder
Rain
Surging rain
Bursting like rockets inside my head
Thunder
And the wind subsides
Distant thunder
The lightning is no longer in the room
The earth is peaceful and tired
Trees tremble softly
Warm green winds whisper
And caress wet towers
In storm city.

1966

5:00 A.M. Monday Morning | A Poem by Roy Pullam

The mist was all around
Slipping up
Giving me a playful, wet kiss
It was a spirit morning
The eerie quiet
In the early hours
With ghost vapors floating
Just over my shoulder
As I walked
To the road
In the distance
I saw a faint light
The car struggling vainly
For visibility
It drew closer
The paper man
Waved and passed
His route longer
As he cut
Through the fog
It would not last
Milky blankness
Fighting a losing battle
With the sun
But for that moment
The invasion
Held me captive