"outdoors" poems
In frames as large as rooms that face all ways
And block the ends of streets with giant loaves,
Screen graves with custard, cover slums with praise
Of motor-oil and cuts of salmon, shine
Perpetually these sharply-pictured groves
Of how life should be. High above the gutter
A silver knife sinks into golden butter,
A glass of milk stands in a meadow, and
Well-balanced families, in fine
Midsummer weather, owe their smiles, their cars,
Even their youth, to that small cube each hand
Stretches towards. These, and the deep armchairs
Aligned to cups at bedtime, radiant bars
(Gas or electric), quarter-profile cats
By slippers on warm mats,
Reflect none of the rained-on streets and squares
They dominate outdoors. Rather, they rise
Serenely to proclaim pure crust, pure foam,
Pure coldness to our live imperfect eyes
That stare beyond this world, where nothing's made
As new or washed quite clean, seeking the home
All such inhabit. There, dark raftered pubs
Are filled with white-clothed ones from tennis-clubs,
And the boy puking his heart out in the Gents
Just missed them, as the pensioner paid
A halfpenny more for Granny Graveclothes' Tea
To taste old age, and dying smokers sense
Walking towards them through some dappled park
As if on water that unfocused she
No match lit up, nor drag ever brought near,
Who now stands newly clear,
Smiling, and recognising, and going dark.
18k
I go to the door often.
Night and summer. Crickets
lift their cries.
I know you are out.
You are driving
late through the summer night.
I do not know what will happen.
I have no claim on you.
I am one star
you have as guide; others
love you, the night
so dark over the Azores.
You have been working outdoors,
gone all week. I feel you
in this lamp lit
so late. As I reach for it
I feel myself
driving through the night.
I love a firmness in you
that disdains the trivial
and regains the difficult.
You become part then
of the firmness of night,
the granite holding up walls.
There were women in Egypt who
supported with their firmness the stars
as they revolved,
hardly aware
of the passage from night
to day and back to night.
I love you where you go
through the night, not swerving,
clear as the indigo
bunting in her flight,
passing over two
thousand miles of ocean.
11.1k
no, I'm not talking about the ones with big noses
or greasy hair
not the ones with bad breath
or round bellies
no, I just like them raw
a little broken, a little sad
the ones with scars
a story to tell
I sure know how to pick em' you might say
but I'd never give them up any day
a whole adventure in a person like the outdoors
one with canyons and mountains he would let me explore
only ugly guys give themselves all at once
no parts hidden, everything is exposed
vulnerability is thought to be a weakness but in reality it's bold
I like ugly guys.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 11:20 PM UTC
I've only been camping a handful of times and this is the first we've been in about a year and its very nice and the outdoors is very comforting. The stars in the sky shine so bright tonight, they remind me of my lovers smile. The bugs chirp and make so many noises it keeps me up, at late hours. The weather is hot and its humid so my hair sticks to my face and I sweat. I have to *** so bad but everyone is asleep and the bathrooms are unbearably disgusting. It took us almost an hour to set the tent up and we had hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner. The bonfire was warm. I can't wait to get out and go swimming in the lake later. Camping is alright.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
The sting of raindrops,
a thirst for outdoors.
Dusk, and the
whisper of leaves,
a certain silence. The evening hangs
still. I want to observe the
moment of change,
the discovery of strength,
a joining.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
He smelled like my Dad
Or like Old Spice and Zest
He smelled like a person working on cars
Or of the outdoors
He smelled like fresh milled wood
Or like a shirt worn with sweat
He smelled like our living room
Or like our dog named Stanley
He smelled like green trees
Or like a tavern where an un-known band plays
He smelled like an antique dresser
Or like a vintage vehicle
He smelled like warm buttered toast
Or like fresh brewed coffee
Although his smell's been gone for ages
I can still remember the way he smelled
Sometimes I can still smell him
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
I was distracted from colors so bright
By the scrumptious cakes and chocolate bars
I walked through those doors, taffy past my height
Where I saw sweet teas and candy cigars
Bins filled with lollipops and gummy bears
Colorful gum ***** and chocolate coins
Chocolate dipped plums and delicious pears
Oh, how very sweet! The ache in my *****
One man so strange tapped me on the shoulder
“Hello,” said the man, breath scented of smoke
“There is more candy out where it’s colder”
I follow him out. He hands me a coke.
But to my surprise, no candy outdoors.
In the trunk of his car and on all fours
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:15 PM UTC
#Ogun owed Oxun for the fee he paid
to divorce Yemayá in the watery deep.
Babalu Aye‘s messenger delayed
(no *** in the bargain – price too steep)
until San Martín, divine caballero
deceived the third wife of el Indio Guerrero.
(Obatala‘s beats got lost in transit
the rhythm robbed by macumba-bandit.)
Eleguá cleared paths for He Who Opens Pores.
Black roosters smoked puros at midnight. Outdoors,
Santa Muerte was asked to turn down the noise
so Nana Buluku could get some sleep.
As she gathered Ashé, reduced to a heap
of Yoruba fool’s gold anointed with blood
Oduduwa pretended he understood;
but his mother-in-law knew he never would
until Olódùmarè returned from the feast
having sacrificed roosters while facing east.
The santero drew me a pictogram
to protect me from forces my poem conjured
but the blood of a sacrificed perfect lamb
affords more protection, I knew. He wondered.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
Wise scarecrow with
Awareness both harrowing and
fallowing, wisdom and knowledge.
Straw in glove you stand in a field
straw man, scarer, protecter of the
unseen world, and fields.
Kuebiko (崩え彦 "disabled prince")
you have no legs to roam,stood out in the wet and cold.
You and I Mr scarecrow are alike, no working legs.
Afflicted bodily,our minds still know
Impaired we are a pair of straw myths
Because he stands all day outdoors, he knows everything
Because I sit all day indoors, I know time.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
lush.
one of those words,
whose sounds conjures
but does not onomatopoeia
like chirp or oink.
the irony is rich for me,
in the sunroom, with others,
no one speaking
and it is a harmonious sound,
the quietude,
indoors, outdoors,
is a good thick, rich and plush,
invisible & unbearable, but
like soft, spreadable butter,
…the quietude is the
hush and hug of lush…
Jul 28, 2025
Jul 28, 2025 at 10:43 AM UTC
You are too old for your looks, dear gentleman
Dear gentleman, you are much too spry
You jump like a wallaby, dear gentleman
And you run much faster than I
When I am snoozing, dear gentleman
You wake me up,
Because you’re hungry for food
Dear gentleman, I was sleeping
I find this, at times, very rude
Dear gentleman, you don’t go outdoors very much
You always stay inside
Watching the birds taunting you
This really must hurt your pride
When I leave the house, dear gentleman
You stay standing guard
Dear gentleman, I must praise you
For this job must be very hard
Dear gentleman, you don’t speak English
You speak some foreign tongue
I cannot understand you, dear gentleman
I can’t decode the songs you’ve sung
Dear gentleman, I must thank you
For you a such a good friend
You and I, dear gentleman
What a pleasant blend!
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 6:04 PM UTC
In a sunny spot resides a new bench.
It would be a perfect place to sit among the flowers
with children sitting at your feet
teaching them all that you know
about animals
about the great outdoors
from a time when they were experienced in person
not on the Discovery Channel
not on TV
You could read a book to them there too
like Wild Animals I Have Known
by Ernest Thompson Seaton
the naturalist.
You could sit quietly in the sunshine
and nurse an unfortunate animal back to health
like a Gecko
or turtle
or opossum
You could just sit
your Dunkin Doughnuts iced coffee in your hand
and take it all in
or let it all out
your choice.
But you never will do any of these things
on this bench in the sunny spot
among the plants
and flowers
and smooth river rocks painted in your honor
by the children to whom you are missed
because the bench is dedicated
with your name on it
in memory of you.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
I think it quite strange living here walled by this house
when I was wilder than now I lived in nature
stalking birds and pollen laden things
always my toes in sands or hot footed in summer.
I was in love with the sky, no matter the weather
in storms I hid beneath branching cedars
sleeping on mossy pillows, in the woods of my backyard.
I never gave much thought to houses then, I only went there
to sleep or eat and waited to leave again
waited for an inkling of sun to warm the cold grass
spent days climbing trees, red plums and cherries
I imagined that's how life would always be,
living outdoors under the sun or clouds
wet with rain, always picking flowers.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC
What were we thinking when we started to talk?
Now that we walk to separate paths,
Are things so different?
What did we not understand that night?
Now that the sun has set for good,
Are we so tired?
Were we just young and immature?
Or were we stupid and confused?
The days seem gone too quickly
Safe to say it now that we are not alone
Never really knew what to think anyway
Don’t think anyone does.
Should we question our decisions?
Should we question Fate?
No sir, not me.
No more days outdoors, the air gets in my lungs
My eyes are less open but I still can see
Can anybody really?
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
"And the older I get, the more I'm sure
That more by itself never was a cure
Some days I've got nothing to show for except
Walking the dog and walking the floor"
Mary Chapin Carpenter
<><><>
*it's been twenty years plus
who can remember exact,
the last time I had a full-time four-legged
companion to share my bed, greet my head with
wagging tail, and joy incessantly, overflowing and drowning me
with face lickings and hugs of a topsy turvy twisty body,
and smiles and curdling yowls of deep throated
cries of obvious joy and the
first thing I'll do when the nectar of next
life's staging begins to commence will be me to get
such a dog as heretofore I remember as an unadulterated purest joy,
I'll still walk the floor,
long walks, yup, outdoors, early morn,
and late afternoon day settling setting endings,
dog and me, freshly bathed, settling in to watch
some British crime and ****** mysteries sleuthed and
solved by folks I'll never meet, but whose company enjoyed
over the distance of an atlantic sea and about seven feet,
and maybe dog curls up next to me, by my pillowed
head, or between my happy to snuggle legs,
don't matter much, dog & me,
will discuss an alternating
rotation satisfying our
mutuality,
and even when I still walk the floor, which be a task for evermore,
he can walk beside me if he chooses, cause choice is
what's it all about*
with a true companion
nml
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC
O’ country of my blood,
country of my ancestors
I long for you
Your luscious green landscapes
and your highest mountains
Your beautiful waterfalls
and your fountains
The sound of the neighborhood kids
laughing in the streets,
I long for you
A time where we ran outdoors so excited
we forgot to put our shoes on,
sitting on the front porch buying watermelon from the fruit-cart man,
then sharing it with our friends,
I long for you
Wherever I go I belong to you, one day shall my ashes be scattered and soil with you.
Jan 28, 2024
Jan 28, 2024 at 6:41 AM UTC
I dated a girl, a pretty gal
I dated her and her pooch pal
You had to like her dog Pogo
You had to, or it was a no go.
She took the thing everywhere
And never in a pet carrier.
It was sort of a turnoff to me;
A kind of no-intrusion barrier.
Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.
She had the ugliest mutt
That I ever saw before
Like a brown **** rug
That was left outdoors.
It snuffled through teeth
That were hideously parted.
I thought it was stuffed
Until the creature farted.
Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.
I got nothing against animals
And I really do like dogs
But they should look like pups
Not chimera or warthogs.
I’d overcome the boundaries
Whenever I got the chance
But that ugly canine lump of fur
Put the kibosh on romance.
Scoochie up to poochie
Or you I wouldn’t get no *******
Otherwise I was a pimple.
It was really just that simple.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC
silver flute sits in the case
Studio awaits, soul suppress
Space slammed
silver flute rests on the stand
Insecurity of melody
Gasping for air
Trembling, closed off
silver flute plays a sweet song once, yesterday
For Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, & for Uriel
Resonance, chord floating,
pure revelation
last song of hope, courage
last wild witch prayer
Last organic sound, unplugged
silver flute sits in the case
Great Open Outdoors awaits, soul regenerates
Have we arrived to the sacred tree?
Silver flute will play Naked, wild, free!
All ears wide open
Open eyes, Open hearts, Open minds
True human connection returns
CODA
Silver flute floats in my heart & hand
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Silver screen athletes
quitting soccer teams
to join homophobic friends
(redneck quasi outdoors-men)
who just want to **** animals
angst must be vented
lest it boil inside
and form a much darker concoction.
I beat the horse
'till I couldn't get it wrong
even then
the faceless desks of power
endorse eugenics,
pharmaceuticals,
and high profile lawyers
sentencing me to a life's term
teaching Sophocles
to an uninterested fifteen year old
too busy stroking a Ritalin limp ****
to star censored ladies on Vegas stripper cards.
And he said "Watch your language"
when I said "What the ****
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
Grandpa, tell me about the good old days
I want to hear of your younger ways
When there was no T.V. and there were no cars
When at night you looked up and could count the stars
About how you skipped stones across the lake
With no video games to entertain
What's all this about fun being free?
All this old I hear sure is new to me
Did people really sit and talk?
And where they went did they actually walk?
How did you survive without a microwave?
I bet cooking then must have taken days
You say your parents let you just run about
Were they not afraid you would be kidnapped?
And you didn't come home till dinner time?
Grandpa to me that just doesn't seem right
Did Moms and Dads really stay together
like they promised, till death do us part?
Cause they don't do that that much anymore
and it can really mess up some hearts
Did you talk much with your neighbors
even though you lived miles apart?
Cause mine are living right next door
and I don't even know who they are
You say there weren't warning labels on everything
How in the world did you feel safe back then
And without a cell phone in your hand
How did you keep up with all your friends
Grandpa, did you not ever get bored
Chasing down the wind in the great outdoors
And you say you had everything that you could need
All this old I hear sure is new to me
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
Break down the barrier, break down the wall;
So I can see your smiling face, your white teeth and all!
Break down the barrier, break down the wall;
Let your inner beauty shine through, so with kindness you can stand up tall!
Break down the barrier, break down the wall;
So you can give me a helping hand and answer the helpless call!
Break down the barrier, break down the wall;
So you can share with the world the magic of your beautiful brain ball!
Break down the barrier, break down the wall;
So together we can enjoy the songs of melodious birds, and experience the great outdoors!
Admire nature for its openness. No barrier, no wall!
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
Come up north to see the great outdoors
Rolling hills
Scenes leaving you wanting more
Never mind the weather
Whether its rain or shine
Grab a pint
Sit down
And enjoy our way of life
Born and bred northern boy
But no flat cap or corduroys
Yorkshire til the day I die
I'll represent that West Yorks sign
Faithful to my northern life
Faithful to my northern rhyme
Brought up well with northern vibes
Through hard times, miners strike
Times when maggie thatcher tried
to stir up **** with lies designed
Got miners and police to fight
But don't believe that southern hype...
Those brutal battles gave us life
It redefined our future times
Redefined our future lines
Redefined the northern kind
Redefined our northern humour
Redefined our northern style
Tourists come from far and wide
to find out what the North is like
Expecting lack of cultured life
Surprised we're not uncultured swines
Rewarded with our northern minds
Our northern ways
Our northern lives
Come up north to see the great outdoors
Rolling hills
Scenes leaving you wanting more
Never mind the weather
Whether its rain or shine
Grab a pint
Sit down
Enjoy our way of life
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC