nature
A Poem A Day #481: Nature’s Poetry
A Poem A Day #474: Close to the Land
A Poem A Day #447: Autumn
A Poem A Day #417: Every Day’s Eye
My Poem “The Environment of Nature”
There is no greater aroma than what you inhale when you walk through a forest of trees... there is no more heavenly experience than witnessing and being caught in the energy stream of the morning sunlight at dawn... there is no place like being on a beach while looking out to the horizon as the sun sets below the waves... there is no more invigorating sound than the chorus of bird song that heralds both the beginning and the end of every day... there is no more awe-inspiring sight than seeing planet Earth glow like a pearl as it spins against the darkness of space... there is no more humbling experience than looking down at all the life and the light that thrives and shines below as our world silently turns on its axis and is orbited by its own celestial offspring, The Moon... there is no more ethereal wonder to witness than the beautiful rippling energy strands of the auroras of both the Northern and Southern hemispheres created when the sun physically reaches out touches the thin translucent veil of our world's atmosphere... there is no more perfect moment than looking up at the stars from the ground, seeing the constellations, seeing other planets within our solar system, and realizing that everything and everyone in the universe is connected... there is so much more to life on Earth and in the cosmos that we have yet to discover... there is so much more to a place and a time than can ever be captured or ever truly imagined... there is so much more that humanity can achieve together if only they were able to put aside their differences and talk to each other... there is so much to be found when you start wandering and wondering about the greatest gift in existence: the magical oasis of life that is the environment of nature.
My Poem “The Evening Sky”
Against the blue and gold hue of the sky at sunset I watch the silhouette of a flock of birds fly across the sky, as the daylight drains away and darkness rises... the moments of twilight are so beautiful that I cannot look away, because I am always entranced by the transition between the world of day and the world of night... there has always been something magical to me about sitting in the dark, while watching and waiting for the clouds to clear and the divine light of the stars to pierce through the vastness like some kind of celestial knives... I love living where I live - in the countryside and away from the city sights and sounds - because I am able to be inspired by nature, up close and personal, and every day and every night look up to the sky and feel as if I can see the face of heaven looking back at me, perfect and bright, at the same time gifting me a vision and some sort of second sight that makes me feel like a shooting star arching from left to right unimpeded through the evening sky.
My Poem “Park People”
Parks are wonderful places... Parks are beautiful oases... Parks are where people run and walk through... Parks are can be islands of every size where people sit, exercise, get a sun tan, have a party, or have a picnic, and where people who know each can all gather together to enjoy their own company as well as consume thirst quenching beverages and some of their favourite food. Parks are also the places where those who are homeless go to every night to lay down upon the grass and sleep... Parks are where people young and old can rejuvenate themselves and be reminded of memories and experiences that they will always want to keep... Parks can have amusements, rides, sights and sounds that cannot be found anywhere else on Earth... Parks can be where things are lost as well as where things can be found - and Parks can also be at both the beginning as well as at the end of a particular search. Parks often have benches... Parks often have plants and animals that people can make a connection with with all five of their senses... Parks are where some people want to be laid to rest after they die... Parks all have paths that allow the people who visit them to navigate through to them from every side... Parks are for everything and for everybody and the importance of their preservation to all life on Earth is unestimable - but there are those who may not be able to enjoy nature as much as they would hope, and then their are those who take every opportunity, whenever they can, to embrace every moment that they get to embody what it means and to be someone who might affectionately describe themselves, or might perhaps be described as being, one of the many "Park People".
My Poem “A Garden to Call Our Own”
There is no place in this world
more tranquil than a garden filled
with calmness and colour
that symbolises nature at it’s most wild
as well as at its most beautiful…
there is no place of serenity
and rejuvenation for both the mind
and the soul, that is home to birds,
to insects and to animals big and small,
than the place that people sit in,
look at, breath in, and marvel at
all of the infinite wonders that all have
their own uniquely individual details.
There is no other place that people
get to inherit, but also get the opportunity
to make their own, than the place
that changes over the course of its life
along with the seasons that has this power
to be able to remind us all of times gone by…
there is no place of sunlight
and shadow that shows visitors
of our humble abodes who we are
and what means the most to us
than the place that we see almost
every day that if we are lucky
is an oasis of perfection as well as
protection in our minds eye.
There is no place for people with
“green fingers” who enjoy planting,
watering, watching, and tending to
the plants that they sow and see
start out as a seed and then over time
grow just as substantially above the surface
of the Earth that they are planted into
as they do below the ground
whilst creating a vast network of complex roots…
there is no other place that people
can spend hours within and never stop
feeling as if they are truly at home
than that patch of land that they feel belongs to them,
where they can do whatever we want to do,
wherever and whenever we want to do it,
than that special place to us
that may be as big as a park
or a small as a window box,
but nevertheless is a garden
that we can all call our own.
Mark The Poet 