Nature Poems
"In Nature, light creates the color. In the picture, color creates the light."
- Hans Hofmann -
The Path
Old worn out beaten muddy road,
Its winding beauties bestowed,
To those it leads seeking solitude,
Its mysteries alluded.
A familiar destination reached,
Well trampled paths often breached,
by eager hikers to and fro,
Feeling the breeze as the gentle wind blows.
The gravel the color of burnt umber,
Watched over by trees that appear to slumber,
Covered by shades of greens and grays,
Basking in the beautiful sun's rays.
Rough and rounded granite colored stones,
To its sides lay scattered pine cones,
Fading to different shades of brown,
Fallen dead crumpled leaves upon the ground.
Swatches of grass dot its side,
Sprouted patches of fungi,
Tree's long dead covered in mosses,
A sad price to pay for Mother Nature's clause.
Off to the side shimmering cornflower blue,
A gentle cascading stream give off its morning dew,
Its water whisking white over rocks,
Sipping out of it a rusty looking fox.
Off from its side scurrying across it,
A squirrel startled up a tree it splits,
Ending near the end of the journey,
Misty eye, nah their eyes are blurry.
As the majestic Rocky Mountains appear,
Rising high after millions of years,
Awe and wonder at our natures beauty,
To preserve it is our duty.
The Rose
Hiding woody prickled emerald green leaf stalks playing pee-a-boo,
Crystallizing pear green long pinnations born alternately morphing out,
Framing quadruplet's of magenta's flowing down into pearl white petals,
Where protruding imbricated blonde stipules bloom outward towards the sky,
Bowled tips forged with soft punch pinks spawning trailing rouge veins,
Blending into emerald sepals it's one of natures immense beauties.
The Miramichi River.
Off the ramshackle asphalt road,
Blue-green, yellow gold,
Where Deciduous Evergreen's tower,
Onto the shoulder feeling empowered.
The trunk he eagerly popped,
Out of its back the tackle box rocked,
With fishing rod firmly in hand,
to the side of him a little path spanned.
Strewn across a Douglas Fur's Branches,
A spider's web the sunlight it catches,
glorious ferns from times untold,
revealing a magnificent river so bold.
Vibrant colors of emerald green grass,
Sprouting throughout it making it's own path,
Sugar brown flowered spikes detailed,
On stalks of lime are swaying Cattail's.
A large caramel brow rack just off from the river,
Feeding in a clearing of fallen timber,
A stupendous mahogany bull moose,
Dispatched in its mouth the bark of a Spruce.
Ebbing over stones and soft rounded pebbles,
Flowed such a creature that was bespeckled,
The sparkling pink silver of a rainbow trout,
swaying it's fin destine for a brook branching out.
There's a familiar point where the animal's cross,
It's rocks dotted with slimy myrtle green moss,
Chattering across the bank assorted with leaves,
Two squirrels scurry, the forests little thieves.
Chiffon colored mist pierced by the sun rays,
carpeting the water with it's erry obscured haze,
Floats a twig, around it the broken water ripples,
It's journey's end a lonesome unexpected fizzle.
Further down upon it's stalwart curving length,
The unfolding of the river picks up its strength,
against this feat it's heart and will unbend,
Puissant might of the beautiful Atlantic Salome.
Faced with the challenge of the waters raging violence,
Watch how their bodies fly through the air exquisitely spiraling.
Escaping the clutches of an eagerly awaiting bear.
Perched upon a rock, joined by its sleuthing peers,
a Caddis reflection shimmering upon the waters blue surface,
A last minute meal before the end of it's life short circuit,
To continue the annual dance of lies and deceptions.
To keep fishing our rivers they need our protection.
Rocky Wall
Yellowed trampled down foothill's grass
Charcoal gray boulders we must pass,
Gathered together at the base of the slope,
Eagerly waiting climbers affixing their ropes.
Saddled in their harness they loop,
A secured figure eight in a scoot,
Night black soles tightly fitted,
Checking their chalk bag they are committed.
A puff of white covering the purple green slate,
The top the final destination awaits,
Reddish rusted red of quartzite
Its splendor, its beauty a freight.
Spectrum's of blacks, reds, greens and browns,
The captivating lure of shale and sandstone,
Outlandish edges scoped with plenty of wedges,
Millennia of water cutting out over its edges.
Damp and clammy cold to the touch,
Out of a crevice a spider was flushed,
Only disturbed by the rush of the wind,
A new web he shall need to spin.
Dotted with sparse green grass traces,
This is only one of its many faces,
Many a path's to be chosen,
Millions of years due to erosion.
Casted are shadows from white barked aspen,
The glare of the vigorous sun a blasting,
Snow covered peaks the ultimate attraction,
Conquering nature a divine passion.
The Reservoir's Gift.
Traveling down a well suited highway,
to appreciate natures rarely seen beauty,
He makes his way up a steep incline,
Leaving the bustle of society behind.
In the parking lot the engine of the car settles,
It's tires resting upon squished grounded in pebbles,
With his camera gear hanging off his shoulder,
His mission to is to seek the ultimate exposure.
grayish-brown it's ancient ridged bark,
protruding disfigured branches they fork,
animated red's of the Maple's canopies cover,
the dull drone sounds of insect wings as they flutter.
Peeling ink like pasty porous tissue,
With its fine grained satiny texture grew,
A Black River Birch breeding its pollen,
A ripple in the water from its seed that has fallen.
Off the rare Northern Red Oak branch a Blue Jay now flys,
The substance the Oak provides will soon run dry,
lush canopies of chromatic greens transforming to tangerine orange.
To its inhabitants the changing of the seasons is not foreign.
Khaki brown sands outstretched like the horizon,
Olive green beach grass elegantly tied in,
Scuttling about minding its own business the northeastern beetle
Even with its tiger stripped back his habitat is lethal.
From a view above appearing as if in a peaceful coma,
an immense body of water the color of blue Crayola,
Only an occasionally ripple upon its surface unencumbered,
The warm florid sun brining out Mother Nature's color.
Bestowed with vibrant colors so lush,
and gifted beautiful scenery so flush,
We must preserve our forests and lakes,
if another picture like this one wishes to take.
Vast Prairie Fields
Off the highway down the old beaten down umber brown road,
Thick green blankets of Kentucky Bluegrass hides a croaking chorus of toads,
shooting up as he passes, tanned doweled fence posts faded, so blunt,
Fitted with knoteted game fence wire, assuring as if surveillant sentry's out front.
Gas tank filled just as planned, stashed in the back a spare cherry-red Jerry-can,
Sooty black tires undulated upon soft summer sands, driving deeper into the country heartland,
Once craving for a new hobby, discovered a fashionable passion for sight-seeing,
Nay nothing so daring, nor nothing too freaky, not out to be thrill-seeking.
To the left as the eye can faraway see, golden spun yellow Canola stretching beyond distances reached,
Broken by cucumber green's beneath, its yearly earnings greatly beseech,
A Plasterer Bee drones as it is seeking nectar from canary yellow tendrils,
Patiently waiting for them to unfurl, for now hidden within buds of pale green emerald.
Under an expanding elastic like leafy base, with its splendor and required enduring grace,
Against galled force winds and translucent hail it stubbornly embraces,
Scuttling trying to be evasive, a dark metallic blue cabbage-stem flea beetle,
Its only worry avoiding becoming the next meal of a soaring mighty Golden Eagle.
Partitioned evergreen Toyon coloured hedgerows, breaking the planate landscape flow,
Stalks affixed in a telecoping fashion, into the wind releasing its kernels to sow,
The sun's strength shinning down upon Munsell yellow grains, for miles they stretched,
Hulled spikelets of Wheat resting gently beside roots in the soil permanently etched.
Through its rows playful clan's of tan-brown, dark patched cheeks with large bugged eyes,
Momentarily frozen, now how they scatter from a caste shadow under the bright blue sky,
A light-morph Swainson hawk soar's rendering a hoarse screech, now hurrying their wards down burrows to and fro,
As it sweeps the skies hunting with sharp eyes, upon out stretched wings gliding through the warm current's flow.
Off from the trampled side shoulder a fulvous light grey coyote dashes across the asphalt road,
Hanging out of its mouth gripped by its haunches, chestnut brown tipped in white a jackrabbit showed,
From left to right as it crossed over, down a small bank controlling its composure,
Off into dotting green clovers blanketing the soil floor, another of Mother Nature's loners.
Accompanied flowers pure pale blue, or red, white, yellow, with different colors it may have to contend,
With its willowy slender moss green stems, under the delicate breeze the flax grain gently bends,
Swaying leaves of dashing glaucous green, displaying their long slender shaped lanceolate tips,
Releasing its once contained glossy amber brown seeds shaped like an apple's pip,
Captivating snow covered peaked caps, rising dramatically above the vast Interior Plains,
From a distance one can make out the distinguished onyx black and grayish-white quartzite grains,
Deposited traces of fossilized limestone and dolomite the color of the Rocky's mighty glacier's,
We must take care of this gift if we wish to remain viewing Mother Nature's pleasures.
The Twister.
Splitting off the freeway like arteries, branched long ash grey prairie farm roads,
Stretching as far a the individual eye can see, vast cattle posts of farrago,
Above the oak fences just off the dark slate grey horizon, A hodgepodge of onyx black clouds,
Waiting for the excitement, what tremendous gifts earnestly shrouded?
Surrounded by midnight black metal walls, closely safeguarded from within,
Waiting for a sight to behold, the thrill of today's chase had set in,
Information their ultimate goal, searching the immense drury sky for traces,
Of the formation of condensation funnel's announcing a twister, the life of Storm chasers.
Breaking over the snow capped Rocky Mountains, Piebald clouds it's lethal potential yet to be told,
Cascading energetically through the parakeet green Foothills, carrying its heftiness it flowed,
As if a damn exploding from high above, raging torrents of rain started sweeping down,
A curtain of dim-grey outstretched was a hindrance, any hopes of sunlight it had drowned.
Brilliant flashes of apricot orange off in the distance, the sun in the back skirts only a token,
Within the forthcoming volley of rain across the skies face, a strike of powder white light broke,
Streaking across the sky like fast approaching serpents, such a loud cackling of thunder that followed,
Mother Nature's tears the earth tried to swallow, the birth of breeding ponds where future mosquito's will wallow.
As the fossil grey cumuliform cloud lumbers the Prairie expanses, a stovepipe funnel advances,
Developing from the tempest's roof top, its murky menacing terror starts to set up,
Dropping down in a lumbering toil, forcibly elongated as if being coerced,
Laying its feet upon the earths soil, natures inhabitants earnestly await its disperse.
Another charcoal serpent snaking across the corrupted sky, vastly releasing its repugnant whooshing roar,
Destructive animosity appearing at its base, devouring all in front of its path in a fevered rage,
Withering out with its wrathful twin, back into the atmosphere it retreats as if ever only a whim,
Dissipating back into the recalling heavens above, encompassing the landscape the aftermath so grim.
Poking their heads out now that the tempest is over, the animals bustle on after what had transpired,
Scattered to and form the wreckage of the tantrum, through the carnage the disarray to be deciphered,
In mere minutes it can devour all the is beautiful, though as each season passes all around it will endure,
Heed their selfless warnings in advance, we must respect mother natures power.
The Tiger Lily.
Perched upon a stand of shamrock green,
Such a beauty to the eye so keen,
Vibrant tangerine and tiger orange petals,
Swaying mildly upon a breeze so gentle,
Some pad's folded over ever so careful.
Like the morning suns rays in early dawn,
Elongated yellow's such as the Tuscan sun,
From Mother Natures hand she had spun,
Dashing down the into the lily's bulb,
A cherished gift awaiting within its hub.
Meeting within a vigorous pool of pineapple yellow,
Where dew had collected shot up tendrils narrow,
Rising like snakes out of the crystal clear water,
Preparing to award their precious sustaining offer,
That had been hidden within the confines of its coffer.
Honey yellow consolidated with marigold orange,
At its tips the appearance of bumblebees in torrents,
Waiting upon elegant hummingbirds eager to forage,
Pollinating their wings making sure there be no shortage,
Departing from the lily having partake of its importance.
The Water Lily.
Resting within the dominion of the bulky denim blue lake,
Afloat upon the sway of mellow waters at approaching daybreak,
Firm emergent sweeping crocodile green pads proudly on display,
Sturdily anchored by pine green petiolates descending in arrays.
Straddled between two fragmented pads, easily at rest it settles,
As a jovial sun's rays highlight out stretched daisy white petals,
tipped with lace white they danced a dance in intertwining whorls,
flecked with diminutive translucent water droplets like beads of pearls.
Inching out from within its interior, brilliant ringlets pineapple yellow,
Velvety copious filament's manifests providing succulent nectar so ample,
beneficial to black flies and lush bumblebee's drawn in hypnotically,
Like the buzz of drones they're drawn across the landscape robotically.
The sun framing expanding ripples as they slowly flow,
Oh such a distinguished heavenly sight unfolded to behold,
Mother Nature and Old Father Time working together to mould,
Favoring seasons for such exquisite wonders to grow.
A Foggy Morning
Within the thick somber lingering pewter grey fog,
Silhouetting trees only broken by the sounds of frogs,
Morning dew thickly hanging low to the morning landscape,
concealing the compact damp'ish juniper green grass like drapes,
Carpeting upon its bladed tips the suns rays cannot escape,
Appearing like a congregation of dancing fire flies navigating.
Beads of lemon yellow orbs latching onto the speared tips,
Gnarled carob brown column's coming up from out of the mix,
Branches subdividing out from their bodies without sense of direction,
Scores of pools of water droplets like glow worms due to condensation,
Soon to drop unto a multitude of basil green shrubs scattered below,
Resting upon pear green needles appearing like fire beetles awoke.
The Rail Tracks
Resting upon the ground irregularly shaped pecan browns ballast,
Spread across the densely covered uneven landscape stalest,
Out stretching laid slate grey iron rails spotted pine green.
Layers of basil green moss on elongated splintering wood I-beams,
Tied down with tarnished soot covered smoke grey steel ties,
Perched along a ginger orange railing a pebble black raven flies,
Leaves swirl gracefully along an amber orange grate as it hits the skies.
Marmalade and pumpkin spiced orange leaves intertwined upon its path,
Mixed with hues of hickory brown and seaweed greens fallen where they hath.
Shamrock greens turning to golden canary yellows branching from above,
Off shooting from robust dove grey ancient trunks where ants are eagerly abuzz,
Many have traveled down its lonely path yet the beauty around it lasts,
Generations of man or animal have past given time for this elegance to amass.
Into the tracks prolonged abyss by rail cart or foot again both shall pass.
Flight of the Calico Cat
Through the morning crisp air the marigold Calico freely flies,
With outstretched paws he feebly attempts to catch his prize,
Though the beaming Tuscan sun keeps blinding him in the eyes,
It's not going according to plan like he thought was so wise.
As he sails through the brisk air into the arctic blue heavens,
Another easier kind of pray may be easier he starts to reckon,
For pursuing a flocculent corn yellow and black honey bumblebee
Lands him yet another trip back down into the shamrock green sea.
Foiled by the crummier lack of success he had humiliatingly endured,
Rest assured there are plenty of field mice to be cunningly lured,
With all his canny ingenuity maybe success this time will be secured,
And if not a well deserved slumber awaits as a rewards for all his labour.
Perched
Frozen like a statue fixed upon a tawny splintering stump,
A hickory and light peanut brown squirrel about to jump,
Beady sable black eyes darting side to side as they peer,
He's so ever cautious, one may think he was a startled deer.
Elegantly he's perched upon his back broad muscular haunches,
Front claws spread out balancing himself as he prepares to launch,
Silk whiskers manifesting as his nose goes up sniffing into the air,
His ear perked converge upon a bushy tail that displays such a flare.
Whatever could he be doing that takes him to a spot so vulnerable?
All of a sudden out of the blue squeaks and bark like grunts he utters,
As I finally spied what he was intently watching when I first spotted him,
A chestnut chipmunk with it's mouth packed full of nuts revealing it's sin.
The vigilant squirrel had glimpsed the intruder leaving red handed in action,
Ready to make his move in a continuing war between these two rodent factions,
The incursion cannot go unpunished if he wishes to make it through next winter
With an assailing leaping bound he's off to win and retrieve his future dinner.
Gophers
As I sit here typing away, the sounds of the keys clicking, click, click, click...
I hear those fucking gophers at it again...
those noisy fuckers! Bugger off!
Oh how they fucking annoy me!
Their constant chattering, their shitting on my door step..
Oh those little fuckers! Some day .....
String nooses hanging above the opening of their holes..
Pop out your head you little bastards!
Chitter chatter?
Annoy me?
Drive me up the wall with shitting on my steps, chattering all day long, sun up, sun down, chitter chatter!
Chitter chatter!
Chitter chatter....
A string noose......
Magpie
The Magpie outside my
dirty sliding glass doors
perched upon a onyx
peeling railing intent,
on what I am not so sure
yet I watch him as he
starts to dance back
and forth in an unordered
fashion with no rhyme
or reason other than to
entertain his peeper.
Off he flies leaving
me to return to the task
I am working on when
his shadow crosses the
paint of glass once more.
A little attention seeker
who had enjoyed having
an admirer even if short lived.
The Raven
Dark blank murderous eyes,
Its true intentions only a guise,
Razor sharp mandible releases a cry,
As it snares its soon to be dead prize,
Within its obsidian claws higher it climbs,
One of natures brightest creatures often despised,
Ofttimes misjudged this shrewd fowl is extremely wise,
Keeping an eye alert it spies around resolved something must die.
Christmas Cactus
Lucien magenta's beautifully folding,
Coconut whites exquisitely exposing
radical symmetry in horizontal posses,
an alluring treasure delicately enclosed.
Deep butterscotch yellow lobes
of pollen within the anther,
anchored to bubblegum ropes
doing a tango like they were dancers.
Melodically swaying to the gentle breeze
docked securely to a basil like stem,
protective areoles projecting is the key
reducing most pests from harming them.
Johnny the Donkey
On a bright warm sunny weekend day,
At Caiban Farm the children come to play,
Excitement hanging thick within the air,
Their eagerness as if at the county fair.
Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Blares in a distance,
Trying to catch the attention it is persistent,
Knowing that the kids have arrived to visit,
He the reason their parents have paid for tickets.
Eventually the young ones have made their way,
Now it's time for him show what he has to display.
With a wide toothy smile he goofily greets them,
His stinky breath hits them as he displays his gums,
Darting his wide snout out as he nips at their thumbs,
Bread an offering he's hoping for more than some crumbs.
Johnny notices some kids to his right carrots in hand,
He slowly moved towards them for a new place to stand,
Passing gas without any care as he waves his butt in the air,
The loud shouts from the children as they disgusting stare,
Farmer Jim in his dirty overalls from the fence watching,
With a smile at his silly hillbilly donkey being completely wonky.