#Nature Poem

[insomniac-dot-ink]

You think the world would love you better without your holy edges, without your bleeding wounds and unsightly want. You think the world would love you better but it's just the world.

The grass is soft and holds the ants and parasites and wolves. The wind is gentle and topples mountains the same as it steals breathe. The ocean remembers you, the sea consumes. You are not so tall and not so new.

You think the world would love you better but the world has eaten as much as it's given. the world’s great beauty is a mirror and an indifference to all your burning parts. the Sun is graceful. the Sun is deadly.

We inherit tragedy from hunger but the world would love you better no more, no less, than it will bare you. And it will, and it will.

[mylittletankaworld]

as river waters, words, too, are never the same otherwise, how could what I once deeply treasured now be the cause of such pain?

[earthymama95]

"Nature will weave its own tales from the pages we leave behind."

-Earthy Mama

[worldbuildingwanderlust]

You are never lost

If you never focus on

The destination

[mylittlepoemworld]

when did I stop looking up at the sky and wondering about the endless space? when to beauty did I turn a blind eye and youth's sparkle disappeared from my face?

was it somewhere down this sinuous road that I lost track of who I was before? was it when I began to bear this load that I noticed I was enough no more?

I want again to lay under the sun like a kid, play and lose track of the time I want to run through green hills and have fun and don't give a damn if my verses rhyme

I want to change, to be worthy of you I want you to know the child I once knew

[hearthspeaker]

[beautifullymacabre]

a tiny creek near the train tracks,

a small pond by a back-hoe stored under a wooden awning,

plants erupting from an old bathtub,

grass white and crispy with frost;

they say the town is haunted,

but maybe its only me

[leonieanderson]

Like you I Iove love, life, the sweet smell of things, the sky-blue landscape of January days. And my blood boils up and I laugh through eyes that have known the buds of tears. I believe the world is beautiful and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone. And that my veins don't end in me but in the unanimous blood of those who struggle for life, love, little things, landscape and bread, the poetry of everyone.

Rouge Dalton

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Hey. Can I request a web weave about thinking you're not someone people can love? Thank you. Take care.

-if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more. but you know what i am.

i hope this is what you were looking for !!

Sue Zhao / Fatima Aamer Bilal my heart has claws / Julien Baker Funeral Pyre / pinterest / Chen Chen Nature Poem; When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities / Silas Denver Melvin Love as an Act of Merciful Conquer (via @sweatermuppet) / pinterest / Clarice Lispector The Stream of Life / Jane Austen

[jb-cohen]

[almostsomewheremaybe]

a whale could heal me an orca too like spruce and hemlock or a glacier blue they could save my days from the ways of life whose nature never nutures so true (like you)

[mylittletankaworld]

among boring talks endless repetitive tasks why are only you, like small glimpses among clouds, able to brighten my day?

[earthymama95]

“Let's explore this place together and pretend this is all that's left of the world. Our own secret Wasteland.”

-Earthy Mama

[worldbuildingwanderlust]

The forest

Is only a threat

To those who have already

Lost their way

[mylittlepoemworld]

ancient, crumbling crestfallen walls of shame rotten and moldy to their very core inside all stays frozen, all is the same once you're inside, daylight reaches no more

she is lured through the gate by a phantom hoping to find protection and warmness but walking around, searching in random all that's found is never-ending darkness

trying to escape, the gate is now closed the towering ramparts lock it all in resistance is futile, doom is imposed on the unfortunate maiden within

fair lady, regret when you laid your eyes on the sad creature who caused your demise

[bardicspirit]

For here I lay among the sage,

With the bones of spirits I yearn to meet.

Internal weaving of blossom and blood,

As they grant safe passage to my eternal sleep.