Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Crystal Freda May 16
Her hand brushed the rough edges

of the tips of taupe timber wood.

Burgeoning into barren branches

billowing briskly as the stump stood.

Brunswick green buds

engraved mini mints of mixtures.

Painting pages of profound poetry

reproducing rings of pretty pictures.

Recovering from her inventive imagination,

she released her hand and rotated around.

Shamrock slips of silvery shades

glimmered on the lime lagoon and gentle ground.
Fire ruined
Almost everything
To ashes
With a
quick glance
And destroyed
the lives
Of thousand animals
Even though some
Rescued gracefully
With the
helping hands
Of God’s love
And the
Panic situation
Settled only
After a blessed rain
That rain
Helped to
Quench the fire
And healed
Thousands of
Wounded hearts

It started to recover
By the wet land
And those trees
Started budding
And making
Its leaves
By filling
The holes of
Ruined land
With the
Wholly vibes of
Pleasant nature
That soothes
Every soul
To live and
Love the land
Once again
With its mesmerising
Scenic beauties
To feel
Grateful for
And giving a
To maintain our
By enhancing
the greenery
To enrich our
Flora and fauna
With a balanced
Rain helped and came as a relief for Australian bush fire and by God’s grace it is blooming again. Let’s maintain more greenery to enjoy and prevent our nature from damage.
Annie Aug 2019
Daydreaming of quality time, alone.
Diving into bush pools and rivers,
wet rocks under-***,
hair slick down back,
drip on shoulders;
stronger now there’s nothing
holding me down.

Down I dive,
further- deep into peace.
I’ll eat air and drink my own laughter in gulps until I’m drunk
and fall off my rock
right back in the water-fallen ripples

Let the tui talk and the fantails walk
behind me,
as I make my own naked trail
through fairy-forest vines,
over moss-mounds and thick roots.

With no cars, I can climb,
every tree is my castle,
every branch a limb
to protect me.

I’ll barefoot tumble down a Pinetree *****,
carve my poems into soft-bark trunks,
let the wind fuel my fire.
Anastasia Aug 2019
Let me go

It hurts

To be in your rose bush

The thorns

Are drawing blood into my throat

And it bubbles out of my mouth

But I can't see it

Because your beautiful roses

Are blinding me
Poetress2 Apr 2019
The rabbit is scared,
as it scurries in the bush,
trying to escape.
Logan Robertson Dec 2018
George HW Bush has left the room
For the last time we salute his duty
Save be it the last image of his bloom
The red, white and blue  his beauty

Stars and stripes live on forever
In our heartbeats his wonderful space
We honor his service and endeavour
For preserving  our country's  better place

From dedicated soldier to president
His passion for his country took flight
For he was always there ... a present
In fighting for his country to shine bright

Now his mission over leaves us blessed
The fourty first link's mettle was impressed

Logan Robertson

Thankyou Mr. Bush for steming into a bloom, reaching heights in this garden we call life. In this country's bed of flowers, one stood always awake, watching over the others.
Nyx Sep 2018
The bushland calls
Of my childhood dreams
Amongst the wild
My soul it, sings

The gentle breeze
light upon the skin
Sun upon my face
it welcomes me in

To the lands of summers
Though now long gone

Memories of the heats haze
With a white juvenile horse
Within a closed off field it lay
But young and free it was born

Birds flying high above
Shielding the rays of the sky
Perfectly clear a crystal bright blue
Not a single cloud in sight

Fields filled with nothing
But the dirt beneath our feet
Dull patches of green and yellow
Amongst cattle it feeds

A rooster it crows loud
The chooks begin to run
As bruce, a little staffy
Chases them about

Work shed full of tools
Covered by a rusted tin roof
Parked beside it old barrols
And a broken down ute

Stone walls of the house
To keep it cool inside
Spread across the cold floors
A reddish brown cowhide

Worn down leather couch
Out upon the front porch
An eski filled with stubbies
Where the boys had their "talks"

I feel the memories flooding back
This peacefulness, this sense of home
Hours pass by within seconds
Losing myself in the zone

My footsteps have long faded with time
As has my name once carved upon the gumtrees
The white stallion no longer grazes near by
Nor do the same cattle dwell in that field

Worn down by time and way of the land
Though I do intend to return again
To share the beauty of this place
Drawn back by the old fate

The day melts away like the snow
And I hear my parent calling my name
This place will forever be my second home
Because I know here, I'll never be alone
The only place I can feel truly free
Under the hot glaze of the sun
Next page