Prayer to the Elements [a poem]
By Cara Amy Goldthorpe | Featured Contributor
Protect the soils:
soils from which
new life grows
life to sustain us
with its nourishing blooms
till we return to the earth
to begin
another cycle
The Little Things [a poem]
By Leon Stevens | Featured Contributor
Stop. Feel that?
The warmth of the sun
The breeze on your face
Rain. It has its own unique smell
Feels like tiny punches when it lands
Wherever you are
There is beauty and wonder about
Even if seemingly insignificant
A smell, a color, a sight, a feel
There is always something to appreciate
Like cool grass under bare feet
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Ode to the Tree [a poem]
By Cliff Eshom | Featured Contributor
So proud and complete the magnificent tree,
with dauntless resolve to remain truly free.
Directed, strengthened, creations sure dye,
reaching and spreading to mature in the sky.
Like thoughtful mankind, you search for pure light,
bound to the earth, your leaves take to flight.
Majestic, serene… though ever unseeing,
over all man and beast, yet having no being.
Raindrops [a poem]
By Cliff Eshom | Featured Contributor
Falling on my roof, a very old friend
I listen in a warm bed, comforted
A steady patter reassuring to me
life will continue no matter what else,
serving all needs its faithful endeavor
nurturing, refreshing, renewal forever.
Growth [a poem]
By Cara Amy Goldthorpe | Featured Contributor
It would take for my heart
To be ripped apart
Scattered to the corners
Of this paradise haven
For me to come home
To the soul above
And within
To speak my truth
And embrace
This identity of mine
Too long hidden
For so long, swirling
In the shadowy clutch
Of the night’s storm
Yet now I see, I behold
The awakening rose
That is blossoming
In this Dawn
River [a poem]
By Melody Finch | Featured Contributor
All I see is River
Crashing on its crazy course
Ever onwards, on forever
With such fervour, with such force
But there is sun…there is moon
Verdant meadow, windswept dune
Shimmering dusk, starlit sky
Scented forests, mountain high
In Passing [a poem]
By Jaya Avendel | Featured Contributor
Sword of color crafted to
Stab out our eyes.
No focal point
Only intentional slashes and swirls.
Birds see too much and so
Become experts at seeing what matters.
How pretty the plastic flowers are in
Tribute to single graves.
