April PAD Challenge: Day 22

Today is Earth Day! Yay!

I think most people can agree that this planet is a good thing. However, wars are fought over how we should use it and/or live on it. So, today’s “2 for Tuesday” prompts will play off the opposing sides of the environmental coin.

Prompt 1: Write a nature poem. This can about how much you love or hate nature. It can be optimistic or not so. You can write about global warming or about that time when a deer walked up so close you could almost pet it. I’ll leave the specifics up to you, but it should be about nature.

Prompt 2: Write an industrial poem. This can be a poem about the benefits of transportation or the joys of urban living. It can cover technology, the comfort of cruising around in your car, etc. Of course, as with the nature poem, you can be optimistic or not so. I’ll leave that up to y’all.

Here’s my poem for today:

“It takes a car”

to get me there. And I walk along
a paved path before reaching
the post with green, red and blue
dots. The path becomes dirt
and rocks. My stride lengthens as
I head downhill toward the creek
that’s perfect for wading in during
the summer. And I breathe deep,
realizing I can’t hear any cars
or smell any exhaust. These trails
quiet my sense of anxiety, but
it takes a car to get here.


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181 thoughts on “April PAD Challenge: Day 22

  1. LindaTK

    Day 22


    Not quite sure when it all began
    Man has used his mind to create
    since time began…whenever that was
    Creative, Inventive, Industrial
    Making life easier
    Not quite sure when we rounded the bend
    Quality got replaced by quantity
    Not too much, though
    We have to remain competitive
    After all, it’s all about profit
    Constantly coming up with new ideas
    New inventions
    New technology
    Speaking of which
    Despite my grumblings
    I cannot imagine being without
    The Internet
    Which means that the invention
    of the computer has changed everything
    and everyone
    Not quite sure where it will all end

  2. Hope Greene

    A Cold Spring

    Every year it’s a scheduled surprise
    How fast the buds take their leaf shape
    From tiny nub to eager crumpling
    Of green ready to photosynthesize.
    Too fast, as it turns out, this time-
    After a cold winter, a colder spring
    (It seems)-the pummeling breeze
    Snaps the seedlings at their tethers,
    The sparrows pretending to be plump,
    But only full of frosty air and feathers,
    And the pale leaflets hang from meager
    Branches while the tiny ice balls
    Flail and fall.

  3. Charlene, Age 10

    Prompt 2:


    Nintendo game systems!
    Game Boy
    Yep that’s the past
    Now there’s
    and DS
    Then there is
    The Wii and
    The games for Pokemon are
    Fire Red
    and Leaf Green
    Diamond and Pearl
    Then there is…
    Of all the games in the world,
    Nintendogs is my favorite!
    Video games rule!

  4. Charlene, Age 10

    Prompt 1:

    Meerkats, Dogs, Penguins

    Meerkats and dogs and penguins
    Oh, my!
    Meerkats dig, dogs bark, and penguins slide
    Oh, my!

    Flower the meerkat is head
    Of the Whiskers
    Zaphod is her mate
    Who sent marks and mates
    Youssarian is mentally altered
    And causes a lot of trouble
    Mozart loves pups
    And babysits them a lot
    Tosca is rebellious
    And it payed off by killing her
    Shakespeare is a hero
    And sacrificed himself for the pups
    The Pups are pesky!

    Meerkats and dogs and penguins
    Oh, my!
    Meerkats dig, dogs bark, and penguins slide
    Oh, my!

    Button’s a pup
    Who is pesky and ANNOYING!
    Charlotte’s a dog
    Who is cute and cuddly
    Scouty is a dog
    Who is old yet friendly

    Meerkats and dogs and penguins
    Oh, my!
    Meerkats dig, dogs bark, and penguins slide
    Oh, my!

    March of the Peguins
    Was a hit
    That I made a "mind movie" parody of
    I love penguins!

    Meerkats and dogs and penguins
    Oh, my!
    Meerkats dig, dogs bark, and penguins slide
    Oh, my!
    The end, oh, my!

  5. Carol A Stephen


    They’re building the four-lane.
    Bulldozers, ungainly grotesques
    ride roughshod over trees.
    Machinery chews logs into sawdust,
    spits flumes of it into the sky.
    Wood chip mounds line the roadside,
    steaming in the frigid air.
    Deer driven from forest shelter
    sleep their last sleep
    limbs akimbo on the side of the road.

    Day on day the
    horizon changes, landmarks
    Day on day the
    trees come down
    stacked in untidy piles,
    pine scent heavy in the air from
    fatal cut-wounds
    hidden under crystal ballgowns,
    dressed by late winter’s chill breath and
    morning’s mist.
    Tattered, they lie there
    like slatternly whores after a hard night.

    Is this what we imagined
    when we clamored for the four-lane?
    To drive more quickly , double-laned
    through nondescript
    miles of concrete,
    flat stretches of pavement, yellow lines
    no forest stands of trees, not even scrubby pines
    to calm the stress of 9 to 5
    no reminder that God’s in heaven
    all’s right with the world?

    Carol A Stephen

  6. Justin M. Howe


    The weight of the pack on my back
    The smell of pine on the air
    This is where I belong
    Climbing these mountains
    No cell phone
    No computer
    No television
    This is how God meant man to be

    But there’s a call I’m expecting
    I haven’t checked my email in a while
    I miss my favorite show

    So I descend back to civilization
    Back to pollution and decay
    I am still a man of this earth
    this century
    Civilization blinds me
    Until I just can’t see any other way

    -Justin M. Howe

  7. M. Schied

    A walk in the woods (22)

    Dappled sunlight
    crunching wood bark underfoot
    walking backwards, steps plodding in opposition
    dainty jewels of snow strewn beneath
    if pricked, they will bleed
    unseasonable warmth dries the bed bare
    each curve carved by the softest of elements and
    the hardest of sculptors
    creates a glade of refuge for tears of blue taken
    from eyes of the sky
    stars gently landing on an
    emerald pillow
    bridging overhead for languid travelers
    warmth seeping into skin, bones, mind
    the fly of cinnamon butter flits lightly on golden strands
    then wings away through the waving willow fronds
    cascading through the air comes the ringing bells
    a child’s laugh

  8. Rebecca


    Crumbled factories, Ayn Rand
    Facades in empty lots: 45,000
    Square feet for rent lie only blocks
    From the newest highrise on south
    Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois
    Rusted ironworks bridging the brown
    Sluggish river no longer dyed green
    Testament to languishing industrial
    Glories now lead to former tenements
    Cum studios for the poor intelligentsia
    Paving paths for the bourgeoisie
    To invade the ethnic enclaves
    Urban is chic and concrete pours
    For Eco-Friendly Resort-Style Living
    Where formally public housing stood
    The sprawl has turned upon itself
    Rushing home from the suburbs
    To refurbished brownstones and the hope
    That their righteous urbanity will restore
    Life to the fretful deities of mangled nature

  9. Tad Richards

    Deciduous trees
    starting to turn
    I’ll need orange camos
    at night they’re
    all in silhouette

    against the moon
    so are bats and owls
    no campfire
    just the yellow light
    of narrowed eyes

    they have me surrounded
    noises in the throats
    of distance always suspect

    but I can
    use crude sonar to
    gauge the closest to me
    their body mass
    teeth and claws

    it all matters less if
    you get eaten
    but it gives
    you something to do

  10. Judy Roney

    I wish I knew what to write about nature
    all that comes is a vision of trees right
    now. Trees, just trees, nothing to cause
    a gasp or awe from anyone.

    I don’t want to walk among the trees.
    I want people in my poems instead of
    squirrels. I want laughter instead
    of the chatter of little creatures
    voices lifted up instead of birds singing.

    I wish I could write about nature right
    now, but homo sapiens in full color is
    what warms me and usurps my desires.

  11. Yoli


    Life, what a place
    Sometimes it has no grace
    Sometimes it feels like a race
    And every time I look into your face
    I wonder where I’m rushing to.
    Maybe it’s to be with you
    Maybe it’s to be without you –
    Maybe to be without me
    Whatever that may be.
    Maybe you are the grass and I’m a tree
    And though we can never truly be
    Without you there would be no me
    I need you to help me grow
    You take my seed and plant your soul
    I lean on you and give you sky
    You never ask me why
    I do it because I care
    Just like you nourish me by being there
    Your soil is rich and full of giving
    Your color is vibrant and full of living
    And though I can’t reach down and touch your skin
    I can feel you from within.
    Maybe you are the tree and I am the grass
    And I’m watching as the clouds pass
    And you are feeding off of me
    Your roots digging to plant your seed
    Maybe you have your branches so far out
    When we speak we have to shout
    And maybe you are reaching for the sky
    But want to keep me where I lie
    And you won’t reach down to touch my skin
    But I still feel you from within.
    You distance yourself but can not ever leave
    Because there is no you without me.
    Or maybe you are the ocean and I am the sand
    Or I am the sky and you are the land
    I carry the sun and you carry the strife
    You hold the seed and I give it life
    I encircle you and keep you warm
    You pull me in and give me form
    Maybe you are the sky and I am the land
    Maybe it depends on the day what I am.
    Maybe you nourish me with love
    Maybe you watch me from above
    Maybe life isn’t a race
    Maybe forever together is our place.

  12. Lyn

    sitting at the base of a curved duolith statue
    invokes the feeling of ancient power
    in the center of modern art structures
    the stair step style of seven floor
    the pyramid topped tower
    juxtaposed beside a round tower
    the height enhancing lines, vertical columns
    primary colors in blocks
    superimposed over an orange graphic statue
    I absorb strength from the organic elements
    stone, brick and rosebushes mulched with redwood chips
    the condos of the pampered seem to rise
    from Picasso’s vision
    stained glass broken by various colored sections of brick
    in tans, grays, blacks and reds
    I become a piece of the art
    pink hoodie, black slacks, black shoes
    shaded by banners flapping in the wind

  13. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    Argh! Running very late.

    This one combines nature and industrial poems.

    Note: the Scottish place names actually refer to Tasmania.


    Looking through pale new willow leaves
    lettuce-green, at the silver river,
    Ben Lomond purple on the skyline behind,
    she never dreamed a future
    so far north of there,
    with still a mountain,
    a strange-shaped mountain,
    three peaks: two humped, one pointed
    and another silver river
    wide to the tropical sky.

    News comes from the island
    home of her childhood,
    about a mill to be built
    on that swift silver river
    to turn the tall trees
    to pulp for paper.
    It will taint the sweet water,
    small creatures will die.
    She remembers swimming
    there in a time that’s over.

    Now she swims in one of the coastal creeks
    and walks the beach to gaze at the ocean.
    There’s a mill here too, built long ago.
    It processes sugar.
    Gradually over the years
    the operation has become cleaner.
    The smoke nowadays is white
    that used to be black.
    She likes sugar
    and paper. But.

    © Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2008

  14. Jay Sizemore


    an apple that tastes
    like a ripened grape,
    some kind of genetic hybrid,
    an abomination
    of scientific tampering
    that confuses the senses.

    I can’t grapple
    with the implications
    of such an atrocious
    of turning human hands
    with needles probing
    into the fingers of gods,
    grapevines and tree branches
    into this world’s
    new crown of thorns,
    where the ozone hole
    is a bald spot
    and hurricane Katrina
    is the bottled up
    testosterone rage
    of a mid-life crisis,
    but please remember
    that global warming
    is only a myth.

    The fruit of knowledge
    was bruised
    but its DNA structure
    has been modified
    to resist imperfection,
    although those that eat
    from these fruits
    that never fall
    may suffer
    the chromosomal damage
    of the damned,
    becoming zombies
    wanting nothing more
    than to devour the thoughts
    of the unaltered minds,
    picking the eye color
    of their own children,
    aborting the fetus
    of natural selection.

  15. Kate

    Spring in the Fred Meyer Parking Lot

    So what if the keys are locked in the car,
    it’s warm sitting on the hood in the spring sun
    and the cherry trees are blossoming, pink popcorn
    petals waft by in the breeze, scattered like confetti
    on the sidewalk.

    The smell of fried chicken permeates
    the air, a crow flies by with a French fry
    in it’s beak, dusky sparrows peck at weeds
    coming up through the pavement, the AAA man
    arrives but we are in no hurry.

  16. Sara Diane Doyle

    I’m a bit behind… forgive me :)

    Family Tree

    Like children, bickering over
    who gets to swing next—
    the rain and sun and wind
    poke and prod us.
    When I long for calm days,
    gales pound the planet.
    When I hope for snow,
    sun pierces the sky.
    Don’t try to tell me
    that humans aren’t part
    of this wild creation
    or that the elements
    are unaware of humanity.
    Come, play Ring-Around-the-Rosy
    with the world.

  17. Joe Hesch


    I’m sitting between parallels
    of to and from, perched with
    the sunlit Hudson glaring in my face
    and the Interstate blaring at my back.
    I hear the AmTrak whistle
    goodbye across the water,
    on the way to New York City.
    And all these arteries of human mobility
    have a common theme –
    they run North to South and back again.
    How mobile is that?
    Especially when you see that cormorant
    lift from the river
    and wing west?

  18. S.E. Ingraham


    My Car’s Trunk

    Praise to my new/old car’s cavernous back end
    To the wall-to-wall felt carpeting showing nary a stain
    And praise to dry days and nights following its purchase
    I never once suspected –
    Until that almost serendipitous ‘empty trunk day’
    When at last the skies opened.

    Praise to the wet-vac
    That wasn’t the only thing that sucked that day
    And to the unusual trunk well
    Housing a spare tire
    But lacking a…drain.

    Fortuitous as luck would have it
    As a ring I treasure greatly
    Had somehow dropped into aforesaid well
    And was only submerged for a time
    Not lost forever. Praise be.


  19. S.E. Ingraham

    Goose Stepping at the Lake

    Man-made lakes are big here, created especially in wealthy neighbourhoods so rich folks
    may pretend they own lakefront property. A lake I frequent is one of these, just north of my house and within easy walking distance, with a well-kept path around it. Well disguised as its more natural brethren, this spot has bulrushes, duck stages, even the occasional small dock or two, and benches for the hoi polloi – the likes of me – to use. I love to go there in early spring as the Canada geese return to fight over which pairs will get to nest there each year. But it’s autumn when I’m as giddy as a parent with a child graduating college, for in the fall there is high comedy on the lake that is not to be missed. Come September, a huge number of fledgling geese are brought to this lake to be
    trained for the long migration south. Who would have guessed that that flying thing is not instinctive, nor is the patented v-formation or the graceful landing on water you see on nature shows on TV. In early days the young geese actually flop over like stooges as they try to glide across the water and come to a stop, and it’s not unusual to see them collide (harmlessly, but oh-so-comically) both on the water and in the air; that never gets old. All through boot camp, the adult geese never stop honking orders; I swear you can almost hear the frustration in that cacophony as the days grow short and the young seem to lollygag about learning. Then one day, just like toddlers learning to walk, they all of a sudden seem to get the hang of it and in a skein, they take to the air, make their perfect v and begin to practise in earnest. Most of the adults quiet then and within days, they disappear, already starting their long flight south. The youngsters spend several days learning to fly the formation, switching off the leader as they’ve been taught and landing on the lake with aplomb, as if they were born to it, and then, just like that, they too are gone.


  20. Darla Smith


    In Spring the trees are sprouting fresh new buds,
    their branches are full of bright green leaves.
    Pretty wildflowers are blooming in the fields,
    colorful butterflies are fluttering around the yard.

    In Summer the gardens are all growing,
    with vine ripe tomatoes and fresh ears of corn.
    There are also green cucumbers and yellow squash,
    delicious cantaloupes and ripe juicy watermelons.

    In Autumn the leaves are changing colors,
    with bright hues of red, yellow and gold.
    The air feels refreshingly cool and crisp,
    while we gave up at the star studded night sky.

    In Winter the snow begins to fall heavily,
    blanketing the earth in pure sparkling white.
    Ice is glistening on the trees bare branches,
    icicles are dangling from the eaves of houses.

  21. Amanda Caldwell

    The evergreen city

    Up the hill going 60,
    suddenly there is blue
    and silver
    — blue for the deep clear waters of the lake
    and silver for windows of skyscrapers, towers,
    sun glinting off boat hulls, and
    one white Needle piercing the clouds.

    And on clear days you turn a corner
    on a fast stretch of highway,
    and all around you, cars roll slower
    to gawk, to gaze,
    at the boiling mountain,
    bigger than belief, dusted with snow,
    since its shoulders sit so high
    its head usually wears the clouds.

    Deep green pines, blacktop,
    libraries and schools,
    parks with cliff paths
    winding down to the waves.

    City and mother,
    grass and concrete,
    remembering humans too
    are part of nature.

  22. k weber

    Springtime, Easily

    These are the nights
    with clearest eyes–
    the bright cricketing
    from dew-stained grass;
    their bodies breathe in
    with high-pitched sighing,
    small voices travelling
    an echo alongside late trains

    Inside the dark, the moon
    remains an earth-friendly
    bulb by which a cardinal,
    on its red perch, can read
    the outcome of tomorrow
    while cats fight and feast
    with fleas then flop their bellies
    on quiet asphalt

    Spring trees flower sweetly
    and sway their sex
    like dancer’s hips to a lone
    saxophone: limbs dangle
    like tired hair and arms
    just before the bar closes
    and the sleep-drenched kiss
    tastes like honeysuckle

  23. Sarah

    A quiet walk
    to the fishing pier
    the squirrels running busily
    the birds singing cheerily
    to some it’s just noise
    they don’t take time to hear
    but for me it’s a musical
    of love, joy and peace
    it’s a beautiful melody
    that none can compete with.
    As I sit on the dock
    it’s melody blends
    with the rivers soft waves
    a magical moment
    where time stands still
    a gift from The Creator
    that stays with me
    all day through the
    hustle and bustle
    of everyday chores
    ’till I pause another quiet moment
    to listen some more.

  24. Jennier Fagala

    Silver Trees

    Silver trees blossom
    at the heart of city fair
    with roots diving
    driving and connecting

    Darkened pathways slither
    through urban and country side
    with rivers rilling
    drilling and cascading

    Specks of motion, people-ants
    within the metal forests move
    with intent and causation
    seeking and grasping

    live here

    this is our nature
    our life
    city fair

  25. Maureen


    It’s only natural
    that humans
    would put so much energy
    into destroying the Earth, nature
    and themselves.
    Why it’s human nature.
    Smell the rose
    pick the rose
    then destroy the garden
    sub-divide the block
    to make some more money
    then invest it in a mining company
    good returns
    and contribute to the destruction
    somewhere else.
    Then you can spend heaps of money
    on technology.
    Buy a robot pet
    too much mess and bother with a real one.
    Get the latest computer equipment
    so you can stay locked up
    in your study all day and night.
    Install an air conditioner
    (protects you from the polluted air
    better than an open window).
    Play games on the computer
    instead of at the park.
    Put all animals into zoos
    behind bars
    that’s where they belong.

    We are digging our own graves
    I’m sure that’s not natural.

    © Maureen Sexton

  26. Elizabeth K. Keggi

    I finally got an industrial poem! It’s a true story, too.

    First Week

    My father gives me a tour of
    the paper plant in San Luis Potosi
    where he has his new job.
    "And here’s where a guy fell
    into a vat last week. They probably
    made Kleenex out of him."
    I look with alarm at the sky-high rolls
    of pink and white tissue paper.
    Which one, I wondered, holds what once
    were bones and brains?
    "Bienvenidos a Mexico!" cracks my dad.
    It’s going to be a long year.

    Elizabeth Keggi

  27. jane

    Virtual Friends

    My kids used to refer
    to my internet friends
    as "Mom’s pretend friends"
    (always with a snicker).
    They thought it was
    a great joke until
    I brought one home
    to live with us.
    He who laughs last…

  28. Linda Hofke


    Night falls upon the summer sky
    As we sit, just you and I,
    Beneath the radiant moon’s glimmer
    And thousands of stars all a shimmer,
    Setting the scene for romance
    As fireflies perform their mating dance–
    A flitter of glitter flying around,
    Dashing and flashing, a call without sound.
    We sit in silence watching the show,
    Contented by summer’s beauty aglow,
    And following lead you turn to me,
    With a sparkle in your eye you proceed
    Without one spoken word to say
    Our flames of love still burn today.

  29. Don Ford

    I’ll Take Those Keys – Thank You
    You think because you turn me on
    That I must do your bidding
    I’m metal, paint and glass to you
    No feelings in between
    But I’ve got news for you today
    I’m cranky – so don’t push me
    I don’t like having you in charge
    You drive me rather crazy
    I wish that I could drive myself
    I don’t like you behind my wheels
    I think you drink and drive too much
    It’s time to sober up – I feel

    Now get some coffee in you
    And leave those keys up on the dash
    Don’t want to be the next in line
    To end up in your stupid crash

  30. Just Someone

    Ours…. to cherish

    A spherical silhouette
    Is ours to cherish
    Earth, our planet,
    And, we shan’t let it perish!

    A balance so delicate,
    Of many a element,
    In a mix to create,
    The prefect environment

    She hums and she spins,
    In the frigid space,
    Amidst spatial ruins,
    She holds up the brace,

    She’s always nurturing
    Cultivating her support,
    Meantime enduring
    All that we purport

    Today, we should vow,
    To foster and to revere,
    In respect we will bow,
    To this ‘life-giving’ sphere!

    To save it for posterity,
    Recycle, restore and renew
    Immortal until eternity
    We want it to be anew!

  31. Terri

    Voice Purge

    “You ain’t nothin’ but a punk ass boy!”
    was only a portion of the venom I heard spewed
    into the cellphone of a large teenage girl
    wearing lime green sweat pants;
    I shook my head in disgust and dismay as I
    loaded my groceries into my car’s trunk;
    What an abuse of the English language
    (not to mention the “punk ass boy’s ears);
    I sometimes wish I could mute the world.

    The next day I went on a nature trail walk
    all by my lonesome,
    I wore no ipod, I didn’t even hum to myself;
    Purging myself from the human voice.

    I heard many voices in many languages
    but, fortunately, none of them human;
    The baritone croak of bull frogs,
    various chirps, twitters and trills
    of jays, finches, wood thrush and the like,
    The rush and surge of water cascading
    over river rocks,
    the plop of lazy snapping turtles
    rolling off their nap-time logs.

    My ears were soothed by the foreign whispers
    from wind to oak leaf;
    Purged from even my own thoughts.

    I returned to my car and started the engine,
    catching myself before I reached to turn on the radio;
    I needed to stop by Kroger for a half gallon of milk
    but I wasn’t yet ready to hear even a kind
    “Thank you. Have a nice day!”
    The milk could wait ’til tomorrow.

  32. Devon Brenner


    These days, my clean mugs and dinner plates
    spend their drying time in a chrome dish drainer
    that glints with pride at its airy and streamlined efficiency,
    and where my belts once flopped over the rod,
    now they hang, subdued,
    on a maple rack near the lightswitch.
    There’s a silver basket for soap
    stuck with suction cups
    to the back corner of the shower,
    it is so easy to get clean,
    and I’ve wound the hose into respectable coils
    on a keeper by the spigot out back.
    Little by little, I’m replacing the clunky
    ordinariness you left with good design a lá Target.
    I can find the paring knife, my spices are all in a rack
    and there’s no one home to cook for.

  33. Angela Edelbi

    Here’s 2 for Tuesday a day late.


    Tears of joy… washing clean;
    berries are fresh…
    both sweet and tart on the tongue,
    growing in the wild;
    down a country road-
    warm air…muggy feel
    mountain whispers; tell us to remember
    the miracle of nature’s bath-
    walk a while; take it all in…
    enjoy the integrity of a vital nature.

    Angela E. -2008

  34. Angela Edelbi

    A nature poem…

    "Dashing Sir"

    I saw him again today…
    That dashing dragonfly;
    he darts about on whooshing breezes,
    translucent wings, shimmering in summer’s
    last rays of the season.
    What a striking fellow…
    circling above my head-
    Little more than an arm’s length away;
    it seems possible to touch him,
    but I don’t want to hinder his journey-
    A smile spreads across my face;
    the sun gives me glow.

    A soft radiance permeates
    the air -autumn is waiting…
    I wonder where the dragon sir
    is off to this hour?
    I never tire of seeing their brand of species.
    What does Chinese legend say?
    That they are a sign of good things to come!
    Maybe this positive reflection is why
    I feel glad each and every time
    they are in my presence-
    Such a welcome gift…
    Thank you for making me feel happy.

    Angela E. -2008

  35. A.C. Leming

    Arctic Villages

    The last winter I lived in Alaska.
    we went to school when it reached
    110 below, wind chill factor. We
    used our last snow day the day
    before, 45 degrees below zero,
    wind chill factor. Now I hear on
    the radio that above the aortic circle,
    where fuel oil is eight dollars a gallon
    and they cut down forest to heat their
    homes, that subsistence hunting and
    fishing is an endangered species, out
    on the lake out past the airstrip. The lake,
    sprouting bushes where water once

    The elders have drawn their maps,
    showing the gradual migration changes
    in martins and ducks, all subject to the
    gradual effects of the interglacial period
    which warms the earth, helped on by
    human actions. How will these substance
    hunters and gatherers survive once the
    earth tilts too far on the warmth axis and
    polar bears drown as the ice melts beneath
    their paws? If nay-sayers dispute the
    science behind the theory of global
    warming, what will they say when native
    peoples show their hand-made maps and
    protest the continual decimation of their
    land at the hands of nations deaf to their

  36. TaunaLen

    green leaves flutter
    in the wind
    while the scent
    of spring floats
    lazily around me
    temperatures are
    just warm enough
    Just cool enough
    to draw me outside
    breathing in the beauty
    All around me
    I love the way
    sunshine settles
    across my shoulders
    and the sound of birds
    echoes and winds
    its way to my ears
    in the distance
    the laughter of a child
    and silky strands
    of something
    float in the air
    it won’t be long
    before fireflies return
    and summer stops
    to visit a while
    with the smell of
    fireworks and bug spray
    heat radiating off
    the blacktop road
    it’s just easier
    to feel like a child
    when I’m outside
    in the sunshine

    TLS, April 2008

  37. Dee IKJ

    New Life 04-22-08

    The sun warms the ground, a seed stirs to life below the surface,
    as sunny days and gentle rains urge new growth.

    Trees dressed in bursting buds reach proudly to the sky.
    Soon the buds unfurl as leaves, delicate and lacy in the wind.

    Bird song fills the air, their wings adding music to the breeze as they fly from here and there gathering and building shelter for their young.

    Soon a new sound will fill the air as hatchlings call for food and bees buzz from plant to plant, that have now broken the bonds of winters sleep.

  38. Shana

    City running
    Can be exhaust fumes
    Mixed with the pulse of city life
    City energy
    City people

    It can be a kind of high
    Exploring in a different way
    A unique kind of commute

    Broken bottles
    Unexpected green
    A tree, splash of lush
    Then more grey,
    yet vibrant
    People in movement
    Always something to see, a pulse of energy
    Even while it slumbers

    Cars honking
    Engines running
    Conversation snatched
    Construction pounding
    City running

  39. lynn rose

    Earth Talks
    Its speaking to me in many different colors.
    With loud and soft voices, splash of yellow
    and pink, green covers the underneath and over
    head. The contrast of light and dark, color is
    everywhere. Earth is such an amazing, wonderful
    place, we need to enjoy every inch of it and be
    ahhed with its beauty.

  40. Liza

    Feeling Lost

    Will we eventually be hit
    with the cold hard edge of science?
    Will God be angry at us
    for forgetting our past?

    Are computers a link to the devil,
    masquarading as an information superhighway?
    I think we’re losing the battle,
    if the internet is the devil in disguise.

    Are video games the reason
    for most of the violence expressed,
    especially with the kids?
    It’s a scary thought to imagine.

    I guess it’s the same
    when it comes to any bad with good.
    We need to lessen our intake
    for both violent games and internet.

    I’m not sure what it all means,
    but I know I don’t like the direction
    it’s leading us so far.
    I miss the old days just a little.

  41. Liza

    The immensity of nature

    I was climbing the rocks
    wondering what possessed this teacher
    to send us climbing up this rocks.
    What was so special?

    I climbed on huffing and puffing,
    complaning about this trip,
    wondering when it would end.
    I wanted to get back to the bus.

    We finally came to a stop
    as I sat on a rock overlooking
    the stretch of land below.
    I was suddenly hit with the beauty.

    I felt like I was at peace,
    and being a teenager
    that was a lot to take in.
    I now realize it was nature.

    Something God created
    brought me inner peace.
    Then, I thought instead,
    I wished I’d brought my camera.

    I thought I could snapshot
    this moment to keep the feeling
    with me, but that was unnecessary.
    Nature always carries this feeling.

    All we need do
    is sit, rest, and look,
    then maybe all of us
    could find our own inner peace.

  42. Karen

    (Ok, so I cheated and wrote it on the 23rd—I don’t want to confuse myself in my PAD folder)

    No Perfect Marriage

    On a college website there’s a photo
    Of a girl seated beneath a huge oak
    in an old-fashioned wood-plank swing,
    Her feet resting on the grass,
    Head cocked,
    Cell phone to her ear.
    She surrounds herself with quiet beauty
    And talks to someone she cares about.

    I drive across town to my nonfiction writers group,
    Because that’s where we meet
    And share
    And encourage one another to write about what matters,
    And often nature is involved.
    Reluctantly, I filled up my tank before the trip.
    I drive a Honda, surely that counts
    For something.

    No one told us we couldn’t marry
    Nature with technology.
    But who says we have to do it perfectly?
    Any married person knows,
    Joining separate entities
    Enjoins us to compromise.
    If we want both,
    We have to keep trying.
    We need to find a way.

  43. Christa R. Shelton


    The breathtaking view of the waves of the Pacific Ocean
    showering the towering mountains ashore
    Cherry blossom trees lining D.C. streets in the spring
    Leaves changing their clothes to parallel the warm temperatures
    of the summer
    Raindrops on blades of grass
    Caterpillars coming out of their cocoons
    Sand between my toes
    Light breeze against my skin
    Palm trees withstanding the Santa Ana winds
    demonstrating their true power
    A light show that rivals any 4th of July fireworks
    during a thunderstorm
    The beauty of nature is God’s gift to us
    Protecting and upholding it
    should be our gift to God

  44. Susan M. Bell

    (I actually did write this last night, but didn’t post it because it just didn’t feel right. Still doesn’t quite, but it’s grown on me a bit. Funny that this happened near midnight on the day nature was one of our prompts, and I couldn’t think of anything to write about up to that point.)

    The Nature of Nature

    I found a baby rabbit on my porch tonight. I
    heard a noise, went outside and was just in
    time to stop the neighbor’s dog from devouring
    the poor little ball of fluff. It ran out into the
    yard, and I thought it would be OK, but it
    stopped and froze, wouldn’t move any more.
    I scooped him up, carried him inside. What
    do I do with this little guy? It’s nearly midnight,
    so can’t call the vet. I placed it on some dish
    towels in a small box. Added in some shredded
    lettuce in the hopes it will eat. The little thing
    is hurt, blood on my hands. But its eyes are
    wide open, it sits quietly in the corner of
    the Hefty bag box. I wonder if it’s thinking
    about its mother, brothers and sisters, hiding
    somewhere out in the yard. Safe and warm in
    their hole-in-the-ground. I wonder if he’s crying
    at all, pining for home, the warmth of family.

    If I had gone to bed at a good and proper time, I
    would never have known about the little bunny now
    nestled in his box, covered to keep it warm, hidden
    from my cats’ curious gazes as they hunt for the
    newly added scent. He would have been gone, one
    way or another, by the time I got up in the morning.
    I would never have known about the natural struggle
    going on in my yard. Nature has a way of forcing
    itself in when you least expect it.

    (Just a note: My vet now has the rabbit, is giving it antibiotics for what looks like a small cat bite on its back. If it makes it, when it’s ready, we will release it back into the wild.)

  45. Lorraine Hart

    Under A Quicksilver Sky

    Quicksilver sky moves up the Sound,
    teal tide slips in below while I
    breathe between and call in all
    seven directions to welcome the day,
    a tendril of mist curls through evergreens,
    combed by reaching branches it flies
    inland from a warming sun
    that sets the dew afire.

    I came for the wildness and quiet,
    left behind concrete canyons filled
    with comouflaged predators of industry,
    fang and claw hidden in the contract,
    dreams torn in grinding gears while
    my heartbeat drowned in the endless,
    rhythmless tide of traffic.

    An old wolf slipped into my restless dreams,
    calling me home to a circle of stones
    between the mountains and the sea,
    deer lie down under the apple trees
    and if you are still enough to trust
    they will come to kiss your hand
    under a quicksilver sky

  46. Robin Morris

    Nature read

    I have to remind myself it’s not a new age CD
    that I’m hearing: these are actual birds
    outside my window, it’s spring, they’re back,

    they’re going on and on: this one is saying "me too,
    me too, me too" like some eager child,
    wanting in on the game or treat.

    Now that my mind has latched on to this shaping
    of the song, I can’t think any other thought.
    No, I am not the kind of person who wishes birds would shut up:

    even cacophonies of crows must be welcomed.
    Those meditative tapes cheat: they edit out the repetition
    that is too much like our brain sucking the world into itself.

    I look up at the still bare tree limbs
    for the culprit, I mean, the delightful creature,
    but cannot spot it. Instead, my eyes continue up and up

    to pale sky, to morning, to emptiness.

  47. Susan Reichert

    My Car

    Indeed it is with pleasure
    that I drive around in my
    car. If it weren’t for these
    wheels how would I get
    to work? There are
    places I have to go and
    if I could not drive I could
    not go. For some of the
    places walking is not an

    April 22
    Day 22

  48. Iain D. Kemp

    Corinne, its ok, I wouldn’t really although that Pickle is pushing his luck!
    I agree this is not the place for non-poetic politics but, no I’m not a global warming beliver, its mostly nature but we don’t help, don’t respect our world & those we share it with & one day it might be our fault! I do however belive ’twas the spiders that killed the dinosaurs! ‘Nuff said!

  49. Susan Reichert

    Seeing and Hearing

    Once outside what do you see.
    Look around and see colors
    of calm on some days, light
    blues and greens; other days
    see shades of greys when
    storms are brewing. Then
    there are wonderful shiny days
    of bright yellows and blues;
    others that are soft pinks, purples
    and magentas to mention a few.

    Listen and tell me what you hear.
    There are crickets and birds
    chirping and clicking. Bees are
    humming and leaves on trees
    are rustling as the wind blows
    softly. You will hear this
    wonderful orchestra with all
    the sounds of nature.

    Everyday take time to see
    and hear what has been
    provided for you. It will
    redeem you and esteem you
    reminding you to live your life

    April 22
    Day 22

  50. Shirley T.

    Night Calling

    Strange sounds echo round the cabin,
    Low moans, eerie yelps, and something
    Like a sob. Sounds, perhaps, rising
    from the lost Babes in the Woods.
    Don’t fret, child, nor fear, but listen.
    Hear the wild turkey’s quirkle
    as it settles in its roost, while the
    Old owl whoo-whits as it awakes.
    From the hill coyote cantata
    celebrates the night. The rustle
    in the high grass is merely the
    field mice playing games and not some
    creeping spirits of poor past souls.
    Listen. Remember it is the
    lightning that strikes in dead silence,
    not rumbling thunder, you must watch.
    Now hear the deer’s soft snuffling
    as they settle in the yard weeds,
    and the black bear’s last hoo-hooing
    call for her cubs. It’s time to rest.
    You go too now. Sleep unafraid.
    Close your eyes. Dream of the wild world.


    Bright lights,
    So many sites!
    Museums rare,
    Ethnic fare,
    Sporty bars,
    Sportier cars,
    Places to go,
    Cinema, shows,
    Shops Bon Ton
    All mod cons.
    All the crowds,
    Everything loud,
    Racing time,
    Too much crime,
    Polluting smell,
    Pushers sell,
    Back alleys
    Winos dally,
    Street fights,
    Subway frights,
    Depends upon
    selected views
    if city life is
    what to choose.

    Shirley T.

    Where I live every day is Earth Day. Even the cell towers are
    disguised as pine trees. At the same time there is a group of people fighting against a wind farm up north, because windmills on the hillside would spoil the view, clean energy be damned!

  51. Kevin

    Nature’s Birth

    And the trees reached
    to touch me,
    sprawled their fingered hands
    to meet me.
    The orchard, my haven,
    filled the lungs
    with blossoms,
    apples unfulfilled
    but promised.
    And lilacs, a stand
    reached languid
    with purple hue,
    wrapped the air
    in sheltered beauty.
    Trilliums, a carpet
    of magic white,
    filled the wood
    with ghostly light
    and lovely sorrow.
    Nature’s hardest hue
    is surely spring,
    when birthing,
    pains are lifted
    to a fragrant air
    in screams of gorgeous blue.

  52. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    Mother Nature

    Can they not hear me?
    Cry out in pain
    My tears no longer
    Beautiful rivers
    But bloody muck
    My body
    Raped and bruised
    Left to die
    And decay
    My beauty
    Ravaged by strangers
    Strangers that I
    Showed love to.
    My soul is fading
    My last breath
    I’m breathing
    Withered and used.
    Don’t they know
    That without me
    They will cease being?
    The scars run deep
    Along my corpse
    I only showed love
    Like a mother should
    But I am redundant
    To their busy days
    Don’t they know
    Who I am?
    I am their mother
    I am their soul
    I am their livelihood
    I am dying
    I bow my head
    And weep.

  53. Barbara Ehrentreu

    Here is prompt #1 Nature

    Chance Encounter

    They were there as we rounded the bend
    on the highway, myself not driving so I
    had the chance to glimpse them for a
    second and turn my head to the right

    And the wonder I never quite got
    over from seeing their delicate brown
    bodies suddenly dart across my vision
    filled me with amazement and fueled
    my every breath as if watching them
    were powering my soul.

    Nibbling on the tender grass shoots
    their heads down and close to the
    earth I felt an intruder in their world.
    Heedless of the speeding cars passing
    them they dined on their favorite dish.

    Dozens crowded the two spaces gathering
    together from their hiding places during
    the day to appear at twilight as if in a
    dream holding still like a Seurrat painting.

    Their eyes weren’t visible from the road, but
    I remembered close up eyes innocent and
    startled staring at me in horror from past
    encounters and prayed no eager young fawn
    would venture too far off the grass into the
    incoming traffic. Nature needs a boundary
    to survive these days.

  54. Diane

    The Cure?

    Doctors used to bleed the patient
    insisting it would cure…
    the patient died of the treatment
    and the doctor blamed the illness.

    Could our efforts to save the earth
    be causing it more harm?

    Plants need CO2 to thrive
    What if our efforts make them die?

    And can the air be so clean
    that rain will no longer be much seen?
    Vapor collects on particles
    to make the drops that wet the ground.

    We used to seed the clouds
    now we clean the air.
    What if we make deserts
    from air too clean?

    And sometimes when we save the trees
    We only leave too many with disease
    Dead wood collects in the wilderness
    to fuel a fire that can’t be suppressed.

    Sometimes we don’t save enough
    and destroy the land in greed.
    But can we try to save too much
    and cause more to be lost?

    Doctors used to bleed the patient…
    What if we’re wrong too?

  55. IleanaCarmina

    Youth On Age

    I’ve closed my eyes to keep this image
    Forever locked in my heart
    That delicate breeze stirs my hair
    Again, and my smile
    Breathing in, I know it’s Fall
    Without opening my eyes yet
    Why do dying leaves smell so strangely sweet?
    This scent is what makes me want to
    Plunge my hands into soil and rub my fingers
    Together, releasing more proof of life’s
    Renewal. I’m already dreaming of Spring
    My head has tilted back again
    And the departing sun brushes my lids
    Softly imploring, not as demanding as Summer
    I’ve opened my eyes so I can see the light
    Diffuse around the leaves
    Nature’s halo is red, orange, yellow, and
    Green at its heart
    I can’t count the leaves, there are as many
    As breaths I’ve taken in my lifetime
    Water splashes as the river runs its course
    Behind me, where everyone is camping
    I turn my back on them for now
    Just needing a few more minutes with Gaia

  56. Carla Cherry

    As I drive
    rays of sunlight
    seep through
    gray, indifferent clouds.

    Soothed by
    my passenger’s Jamaican lilt
    I ask,
    where are you from.

    St. Mary’s.
    It’s a lil country town.
    It’s quiet.
    No chasing after
    ten o’clock.
    you wonder
    where it is.

    I dream of
    sitting on sandy shores
    as blue see-through water
    laps at my toes,
    with a plate of
    green bananas
    and callaloo
    balanced on my knees.

    Will you ever go back home
    to live,
    I ask.

    No, he says.
    We all say
    we will
    but we don’t.

    I suddenly close
    the windows
    as smoky air
    leaks in.
    I clear my throat
    trying to expel
    the odor
    of progress.

  57. Marcus Smith

    “the “green” way or the highway!”

    Earth Day. The “Post” is chock full
    of articles about the environment. On
    the surface a “glowing green thing”
    but in reality something “murkier and
    darker.”Awareness increasing, however…
    US emissions expected to rise, cars
    still driving more miles, the region
    using more electricity, folks not wearing
    sweaters in the house during the winter.”
    Wait a second! Sweaters in the house?
    I work hard to be able to relax and
    wear skivvies in my home – sweaters?
    My ten-year old looks over my shoulder
    to see what I’m reading and – is he
    telepathic? – tells me that I’m part of
    the problem. “Me? Part of the problem?
    How many times a day do I tell you to
    close the refrigerator door and turn off
    the lights,” I shout. But he’s already
    gone. Part of the problem?

    So I collect the wife and kids and we
    drive down to the brand new “Green Home
    Environmental Store.”On the way over
    my wife tells me about our neighbor who
    planted a garden so he could avoid
    buying food that has to be trucked long
    distances and how they were using their
    pet’s waste as fertilizer. He calls it
    his “100-foot diet.” I make a mental
    note not to go within 100-feet of his
    special salad next time we’re invited
    to dinner. My daughter tells me that
    at Whole Foods Supermarket they sell
    “bananas with a conscious.” I say
    “cool beans” but based on the way she
    rolls her eyes, I gather beans are
    no longer cool.

    We arrive at the GHES and I tell the
    family that our mission is to lighten
    the burden on the environment so span
    out and grab some “green.” I score some
    twisty light bulbs and “green” TP but
    suddenly remember the guy at work
    who said the stuff is like sandpaper,
    that he has a secret stash of Charmin
    his wife doesn’t know about. So I
    make a snap decision and go ahead
    with the “green” TP and accept the
    higher medical costs, “more tubes of
    “Preparation H” honey!”

    I find myself at the “organic” section
    and grab some hemp huaraches, a hemp
    dog leash (when he dies you can smoke it),
    hemp shower curtains, hemp napkins. I
    suddenly have a strong urge to go home
    and listen to Buffalo Springfield. My
    son pulls over a “Recycled Plastic
    Radio Flyer Earth Wagon” and my daughter
    returns with biodegradable towlettes
    and a portable meditating bench that
    “makes meditating more comfy.” I wonder
    if the bench is Dalia Lama approved. My
    wife arrives with a “green” cleaning
    starter kit, “awesome cleaning value”
    itsays on the package right next to the
    very steep price tag. She also shows
    me some Pomegranate sateen sheets that
    exhibit a “silky organic zinginess”
    – that’s what the package says – and
    a “veggie sleeping bean” body pillow.

    As we pack up the Hummer and leave a
    Toyota Prius in a cloud of dust back
    in the parking lot I can’t help but
    be thankful that beans are no longer
    cool. Otherwise I’d have trouble
    sleeping at night, sharing my wife with
    her new “green” pillow.

  58. IleanaCarmina


    Modern life is like this Faberge
    All connected with the golden whorls of talk
    Diamonds of cell phones, TVs
    PCs & Macs
    Our little worlds just touching or
    Crashing upon one another
    They’re diamonds because they are worth so much
    These things can virtually save us
    Save energy, save the green
    That pulsates beneath
    Encircling the egg and penetrating us all
    For there are many hearts within
    That can become one

  59. Lynn

    Glimpsing Nature’s Gifts

    A strange menagerie
    of creatures visit me
    on any given day
    they never, ever stay

    A little screech owl
    All manner of fowl
    The red-tailed hawk hunting
    A small bright blue bunting

    The deer in search of food
    Tom turkey and dhis brood
    Wood peckers very rare
    ground hogs without a care

    Each and every one
    under the fading sun
    a blessing unto me!
    A precious gift to see!

  60. Khara House

    the bunny …

    sits on the side of the hill
    by the lamppost. Every night
    at ten. It sits and chews the grass
    that grows beneath artificial light
    and gazes up. Every day
    I pass that hallowed spot
    and wonder if that night
    he will appear. I long to take
    him home. Captivity. I
    want to leave him free.

  61. Barbara Tzetzo Gosch

    A Walking Tour

    Smoke Free Zone—litter from
    cigarette butts
    Beach area—discarded trash
    Sidewalks—dog’s business left
    Front lawns—filled with trash
    Houses—foreclosure signs
    Empty storefronts—
    Dog’s barking

    Parks—people enjoying
    Restaurants and shops—inviting
    Concerts outdoors—Fun
    People holding hands—strolling
    Hospitals—for the sick
    Schools—to educate
    Various businesses—providing income
    Outdoor markets—great aromas and food
    Large, old trees lining streets
    Victorian and other style houses

    Don’t forget to lock your doors.

  62. Sheryl Kay Oder

    Bunker Hill Woods along
    the Chicago River, Northern Branch

    It draws me with its variety.
    On the wood’s edge the trees
    are often in disarray.

    The river reflects branches,
    some in ripples, others
    in more mirror-like fashion.

    The chameleon-like
    water is blue, olive green, or brown
    depending upon its mood.

    One autumn day a curved limb
    fell upon a bright yellow path of leaves,
    inviting me to stoop and gaze.

    Another time the woods were framed
    by two ragged leftover pieces of
    a severed limb leaning against each other.

    Snow creates another theme.
    Its whiteness
    replacing colorful leaves.

    Each time I stop there
    I know there will be
    another delight to savor.

  63. Mike Barzacchini

    Prompt 1 — Nature


    Mito, Japan, February 25, 2002 (Kyodo News Service)—Some 85 melon-headed whales were confirmed to have been washed ashore Monday morning on Hasaki beach northeast of Tokyo, and 31 of them were returned to the sea, local officials said. Some of the dead whales will be dissected to detect the cause of their death, while others were buried at sea.

    We considered self-immolation, but could not determine
    How to strike a match with our fins.

    Besides, it’s difficult to keep a flame going
    With all that damp sand.

    Instead we thrust ourselves from the tide,
    Exploding onto the beach.

    Bursting from the waves in a last dance.
    To celebrate the slow grinding

    Of our world—soil, salt, bone and bark,
    Down the grand disposal.

    You slice us open to discern “why,”
    Not even aware your hand is on the switch.

  64. Judy Stewart

    I seem to be running a day behind. I guess it is ok to post on here the poem from yesterday but I hate to intrude on all of these beautiful nature poems! I have enjoyed them all!

    here goes poem for April 21 eaves dropping

    Oh those over heard comments
    we listen in, both trying to or not,
    we hear things and have no idea how they turn out
    like "I spent my first two years of college drunk"
    or "maybe she has too much junk in her trunk"
    "We are going to the beach on Saturday"
    "She thinks she is fat,
    I am bigger than her
    and I am going to wear one"

    All of this just to realize,
    things are not always as they seem.
    catch only half the conversation
    and you have only half the info you need!

    Day 22 nature poem

    Colors in nature

    Oh how I love the mountains blue
    Oh how I love the water
    Oh how I love the forest green
    Oh how I love the flowers
    Oh how I love prairies yellow
    Oh how I love the birds in the air
    Oh how I love the otter brown
    Oh how I love the desert
    Oh how I love the sky so red
    All of nature is painted
    with many colors
    to keep it from being
    just black and white

    That is not my best so I will probably try again tomorrow!

  65. Anahbird

    These Winds

    Round and round
    In circles I walk
    Around the stones
    Lining the flower beds
    The gentle breeze
    The crisp air
    The call of birds
    Engulf me
    But that is not
    What I see
    On these winds
    A muse.

  66. Earl Parsons

    Mike Padg – You’re absolutely right. Global warming is nothing more than a hyped up money grab. Any thinking person could not possibly fall for this massive hoax.

    We do, however, need to take better care of our home planet. We in the USA are doing a great job. Smog is almost non-existent and when was the last time you ate any dirty snow? Acid rain is no longer talked about, and, from my travels, the roadsides are cleaner than they’ve ever been. Keep up the great work, everyone. And don’t fall for that Global Warming mumbo-jumbo, because that’s all it is. Some of us can still remember the ice age scare of the late 70s. IT’S THE NATURE OF WEATHER TO CHANGE!!! Remember that.

  67. Kateri Woody

    "Doing My Part"

    It’s your day, Dearest, kind Mother Earth;
    finally a day in which you can rest,
    surely as there is a god above, who does the same,
    you tirelessly toil to rectify our wretched wrongs.

    I wish to help, to do my little part
    to lower the impact that I have
    although I don’t deign it proper or necessary
    to pollute the planet, I should show some concern.

    So this day, April the twenty-second
    I attempt to beautify your pock mared faced,
    painting blood red smiles and obsidian eyes
    on every tree that I meet – and kill those who do not car pool.

  68. Earl Parsons


    You can’t look at a sunset
    Or the sunrise in the morn
    Without the thought of why
    They are so beautiful

    You can’t look at a forest
    With the summer green or fall colors
    Knowing all the life that lies within
    Without a sense of awe and wonder

    You can’t look at a newborn baby
    Or into the eyes of the one you love
    Without wondering how they came
    Into being

    And you can’t possibly think for a minute
    That this life is all there is
    Because all around you there is proof
    Undeniable proof
    That God exists

    Such Technology

    Only in my lifetime
    Just a short half-century
    We have come so far
    Such is technology
    Creations of man’s mind
    With a lot of help from above

    I’ve seen developments
    That boggle my mind
    For instance

    I can still remember our first color TV
    Grainy, but new and exciting to us
    Now there’s plasma, HD and blue ray
    So clear they look better than the real thing

    I can still remember Pong and Space Invaders
    Slow, difficult, but oh, so much fun
    Now there’s Wii and PS3 and virtual reality
    So real that you feel like you’re part of the games

    My music collection of 500 vinyl LPs
    And nearly 700 compact discs
    Can all be recorded on an IPOD
    And carried around in my shirt pocket

    A computer that once needed a room
    The size of a small mansion
    Can now be carried neatly in a bag
    No larger than a letter sized envelope

    And that’s just scratching the surface
    Of the technological advances we’ve made
    How far will we go?
    And when will we get there?
    Will we never run out of ideas?
    Only God knows

  69. Mike Padg

    I despise Global Warming Theory,
    along with the men who invented it,
    Those who have been around longer than I,
    Should remember back to a time,
    When doomsayers would warn of
    an approaching ice age,
    Amazing, how people will say anything
    to get others in a rage.
    This poem is drab, but meant to inform.
    There was no ice age,
    there is no approaching heat storm.
    Man creates 1% of all greenhouse gases,
    Volcanoes and termites do much more damage,
    if you can even call it that.
    As a race we are myopic,
    and a tad egotistical,
    We have been here for less than
    the blink of an eye for old Mother Earth.
    Nothing we do in 1000 years will destroy
    what she has sheltered for millenia.

  70. Essa Bostone


    It’s been said that Planet Earth is the only place we know of in this universe where we can…

    Yes, that’s right
    Just breathe
    Let the air come in
    Feel it flowing in your nostrils
    Feel that wonderful generous
    Feeling of full lungs
    Breathe out
    All of it
    Don’t hold back!

    Now breathe in a big gulp
    Take it all in
    It’s ALL you need
    The ONLY thing you REALLY need

    Let it out
    With gratitude
    And realize
    Everything else
    Is just gravy

  71. Essa Bostone

    Grew up in the city…didn’t really know what sunrise and sunset looked like till we hit the Midwest. The buzz of the city still grabs me after millions of years in the Midwest now.

    ETA (estimated time of arrival)

    Feel the buzz
    Plane hasn’t even landed yet
    Off we go
    Down the jetway
    Into the terminal

    A teeming sea of faces greet us
    Some with signs
    Balloons, concerned faces,
    Anxious faces
    Smiling faces
    Children squirming
    Jostling people
    Trying to see emerging
    The faces of their loved ones

    Outside is even more chaos
    Luggage carts, taxis, buses, cars
    Even a distant train
    Baby strollers, wheel chairs
    Feet moving here, feet moving there

    The smell of diesel
    Cigarette smoke
    Mingled with what might be oxygen
    Catch your breath

    The cultural mecca
    Billions of souls
    Hurrying here, there
    Like giant-sized, fashionably-attired ants

    Moving along the pavement
    Keeping in time to the beat
    Keeping in time to the rhythm of the sea
    That is concrete, steel, glass, rubber,
    Bodies, lights, noise, heat
    Pure energy

  72. VS Bryant

    4/22/08 –


    She is the green grassy hills we rolled down as children
    She is the brown earth we made mud pies from and tried to sell
    She is the bluest skies on the prettiest days
    She is the white fluffy clouds that moved slowly and brought the shade
    She is the crisp and cool oceans we wiggled our toes in
    She the place we call home, she is Mother Earth

  73. Omavi

    “It Died! Whose Next?”

    A little bird spoke to me today
    Let me rephrase that statement
    A little bird cried fro me today
    And I asked why
    Why little bird why
    Your plumage the hue of flames and our voice
    Singing hymns that would shame angels on high
    Why little bird
    Why do you cry
    But the little bird just cried
    And then that cry turned into a hacking noise
    As the fiery plumage transformed into tar
    Or maybe it was the color of tar
    Or effect of oil drenched feathery skin
    And the vibrant little bird

    Well really this is a false account
    And this is just a fairy tale meant to shock
    Meant not to bring tears to your eyes
    Because every single day
    Birds die
    Animals die
    Trees die
    And the world around us just violently dies
    While we revel in the technological marvels
    And marvel at the revolutionarily inventions
    That makes our life easier to get by
    And slowly the world around us just dies
    And ignorance runs rampart
    And slowly the essence of all life
    Runs away like the question of an errant brat
    And if it doesn’t stop
    Then we die

    And we will still be wondering why

  74. Justin Evans


    "and then awakening naked
    to be tattooed by the rivers"
    —Pablo Neruda

    Rivers all leave their mark
    as easily as ink—
    your pink flesh stamped
    blue-green forever,
    colors shifting in the sunlight
    turning muddy brown
    when your mind
    is troubled with grief.

    The pain of the rivers’ needle
    will never fade. Each prick,
    10,000 tiny stabs, will all
    prove unique, seperate pains
    & while you lay beneath the stars
    rubbing the place they claimed,
    the rivers will call to you
    & you will remember their many names.

  75. LBC

    Barnyard Symphony

    Hannah wiggles under the covers
    in the dark before the dawn,
    shakes off the sleepies,
    emerges from her comfy, cozy cocoon
    to zipper into blue jeans,
    tug down a sweatshirt,
    slip into sneakers,
    creak down the stairs,
    cross the kitchen on tip,tip toes, and
    silently swish through the back door.

    Hannah is a silent shadow
    trailing footprints in the dew
    to the barnyard fence
    where she
    roosts on her center stage perch.

    Wait for it –
    Goosebumps of anticipation,
    Wait for it –
    Shivers and quivers of expectation,
    Wait for it –
    Until –
    in that silver gray moment
    right before the dawn –

    Cock a doodle do.

    The rooster crows the opening notes
    of the barnyard symphony.

    A smile dances across Hannah’s face,
    Hands clap in delight,
    with the rhythm of the song
    keeping time.

    Hee haw
    Quack, quack
    peep, peep, peep
    Cluck, cluck
    Oink, oink, oink

    Lifting, lilting, floating
    melodies mix and mingle,
    coloring the sky

    The final crescendo,
    a chorus of giggles,
    Hannah’s barnyard symphony
    accompanies the sun rise
    with a dawn of possibilities.

  76. SaraV

    The Sea

    The rolling rolling rolling
    Of the waves
    Silently splashing against the sand
    And tip-toeing up the beach
    On foamy feet the tide creeps
    Then sliding back again
    Peace, tranquility reign completely
    Like a buddhist chant of serenity
    My mind has always been washed clean
    By letting the rhythm gently rock me

  77. Rox

    Prompt 1: Earth Night

    Sea fog rolls up the canyon
    Cool, wet; the savor of kelp and salt
    On the breath of the Pacific,
    Sighing at day’s end.
    Coyotes call along the foothills,
    Gray twilight unravels
    As gentle Night
    Cradles all our weary cares.

    Prompt 2: Invention

    Industrious, creative minds
    cleverly inventing astonishing
    medicines, tools, efficiencies,
    designing our lives to be
    better, longer, safer
    the benefits of prophecy
    and hindsight
    unavailable; unheeded;

  78. Laurie Kolp

    The Ocean’s Catharsis

    The ocean is my refuge
    I feel the waves comfort me so.
    The smooth refreshing water
    allows me to let go
    of all the pain
    I feel inside
    since your

    In and out
    back and forth,
    the tide is resilient
    and washes away
    my soul.

    And like a wave
    I’ll start anew
    but I’ll never have
    a friend

  79. Beth Browne

    Well, I’ll be darned. It turned out to be a companion poem after all!

    Happy Earth Day!

    A Second Look At The Hayfield

    The green of the hayfield
    is somewhere between
    chartreuse and antifreeze.

    It does not look natural
    because it isn’t.
    Chemicals have been applied

    to genetically modified plants
    which will be fed to cows
    shot full of growth hormones

    and antibiotics so they can
    grow fat at an unnatural pace
    and provide cheap meat.

  80. Beth Browne

    Out My Back Door

    It is one of those nights
    after a thundershower
    when the sun peeks out golden
    from under the dark clouds
    and lights the hayfield
    a shade of green that
    would be alarming
    if weren’t just grass,
    rolling away from the house
    framed by trees
    and the peaches and pears
    have marble-sized fruit
    after a remarkable bloom
    and the yard looks sprinkled
    with crimson, yellow and blue
    and the whole thing makes me
    want to sing with gratitude.

  81. satia

    purple is breaking
    violent through the pine straw
    in crocus petals

    while daffodils dip
    heavy yellow heads after
    a belated frost

    Two haiku linked into one piece. Sorry I have nothing for the industrial topic. It’s just been one of those days.

  82. Tyger Valverde

    My Zen

    I worked at one
    when I was just a teen
    Hour after hour
    crammed boards into
    a chewing metal mouth
    mindful of my fingers

    Years later in a printer’s shop
    I watched, mesmerized
    as my machine found
    all the proper letters
    and strung them like pearls
    on a word string

    Kin to kin
    their song enfolded me
    too busy for leasure
    forever lasting
    Ratata, ratata – their mantra
    became my Zen

  83. Sally DiUlus

    Two for Tuesday Prompt: Nature + Industrial Poem
    Day #22
    “Two – legged, Four – legged”©
    April 22, 2008

    Two – legged
    Four – legged
    Keeping time
    To the I-Pod rhythm
    On a paved path
    Winding along the river
    White and Golden colored doves
    Pecking for seeds in the green dewy grass
    Coo quietly saying, Good morning.

    Two – legged
    Four – legged
    Bracing against crisp morning wind
    Face cold and reddened
    Snout loving it!
    Long furry ears and high tail
    Tall and Slender lamp posts stand
    Still, like guards at Buckingham Palace
    Brightly lit say, I’ll guide you.

    Two – legged
    Four – legged
    Enjoying their last breaths of cool fresh air
    Slowing their pace down
    The adventure parked into memory
    As they meet Park Avenue traffic
    Full — people going somewhere
    Honking, screeching autos
    A snafu
    Force that says, “I’ll pollute you.”
    Sally DiUlus sdiulus@cefe.org

  84. Alfred J Bruey

    Green (#22)

    A lovely color
    is green, the green
    of grass and leaves,
    not the green of
    verdigris on our
    empty factories
    which were once
    filled with workers
    who spent their
    payday green
    throughout their

  85. Mario Jaime

    Pretty Fall

    The falling leaves look wonderful
    A shower of red, orange, and yellow
    Such a sight, oh so beautiful
    The trees taking on such different hues
    When I look outside my narrow window
    The trees look like rain, ’cause how the wind blows

    A Confident Man (prompt #2)

    I go up to girls and say "How’s the day?"
    We talk, laugh, and smile for a while
    Then she gives me her number, I add her
    Then I call it a day and walk away
    Got a new prospect, another asset
    I’m so damn shameless!

  86. maeve63

    Nature’s day long lived self sustained
    she spits out the waste and beckons for reconciliation.
    The monetary queen of human disposal
    wretches in her palm with living corruption.
    Calls of the wild sing into the ears of deafened corpses
    whose only goal is to rake her for all she’s worth and all they can get.

    Shaking in the deepest places, rolling toward a day
    when nothing will be too little in the extreme
    and she will call her name loudly and thunder will
    bring in a new age of Mother Earth.

  87. Deb Hill

    April 22, day 22

    Push for Our Future

    The nostrils flare as the crisp tart scent
    tickles its way inside, as the essences
    of gas, oil, and grass, mingle.

    Eyes watch as the burr-ing sound comes
    close then softens as it continues the shaving
    of the perfect rectangle.

    The quiet signals the bodies to lie on fresh
    green blades, some spread blankets, arms tucked
    under heads describing clouds.

    Younger and lithe bodies to energize,
    challenge with somersaults, headstands
    and questions, “what about tomorrow?”

    “Will future children smell grass newly
    cut or see sky that’s clear?” If we trade our
    engines for muscles, and “Push” for our future.

  88. Phyllis Elswick

    God’s Creation

    A beautiful warm sunshiny day.
    My favorite time of year.
    Everything is fresh and clean.
    God made this just for you and me.
    The trees so tall and protective with beautiful green leaves.
    The grass growing tall and straight waiting for the lawnmowers
    To cut them down. Oh how I love the pleasing, tantalizing aroma of fresh cut grass. So beautiful and green, beautiful flowers waiting in the greenhouses to be bought and planted in yards. Thank you God for giving us this beautiful nature.
    Your creation is beyond our wildest imaginations.

  89. Carol Brian

    O Pioneer!

    I would have made a lousy pioneer.
    No central heating.
    No DVD players.
    No flush toilets.
    And all that dirt
    with nary a Hoover in sight.

    I love long showers,
    Friday trash pickup,
    microwave popcorn,
    and all that electricity
    just waiting for the right outlet.

    I’m fine with
    Trailblazers as a team
    Pathfinder as a vehicle
    and Discover as a magazine.

    Glad we got that settled.

    Carol Brian

  90. Jeanette J. McAdoo


    I walk down the road a site to please,
    Colors of red orange and yellow.
    All on branches rows of trees,
    Gives a feeling of happiness and mellow.

    When the day is done and tuns into night,
    The sky is filled with stars.
    A moon so big and shining bright,
    Kids catch lightening bugs in jars.

    Down at th lake the ducks all swim,
    Flapping their wings as if to play.
    We stroll to the bench to sit on a whim,
    So comforting under the stars our way.

  91. Jane Penland Hoover

    Coming Reign

    Rising skyward
    Rumbling blowers
    Sputtering hot
    Air lifting them
    Transcend, rescind
    They think they’re up
    Rousing speeches
    So political
    Mish mashed this and that
    Fuels famished
    Cold air, hard crash

    ©Jane Penland Hoover
    April 22, 2008

  92. Jane Penland Hoover

    Held Firm

    I was alone that afternoon speeding
    Through flat land made tall by pine
    Searching for a sink hole
    Some friends had spoken of.

    I’ll never know for sure whose voice
    Urged me from behind, turn off
    Just there, that two-lane rutted path.
    Those who whisper, them that scratch
    All come along from time to time
    Lurking, never leaving me without
    When my tires sunk and held
    In the softness that was once road.
    My voices scattered, deserted, drifted
    Left me to puzzle, work it out.

    Pine boughs threw their scraps of shade
    Pine trunks marched a straight parade
    Along my spit of road, back the way I’d come

    I have no memory of the hurting,
    Pushing, tugging, pumping at the clutch
    The dry weight of fear, blue sky
    Patchy overhead.

    What remains today is wondering
    About deep waters waiting hidden
    out of sight around some curve like
    my pen gathers close and how back
    then that day that clan of tiny grain
    Closed forces, held firmly, set me free.

    ©Jane Penland Hoover
    April 22, 2008

  93. Iain D. Kemp

    Going to bed, but first: so many, too many to name all, so so good.
    Personal highlights, Nancy, Connie, Elizabeth( Told ya once, now I told ya twice… & KP ( she knows, oh yes!!)

  94. Laural

    Industry one:

    David’s Film

    The documentary is grainy and grey
    We hear clangs and bangs
    Abandoned metal wiring swings
    Aimlessly in the wind.
    The factory’s doors hang open
    It’s no longer needed but it
    Cannot return to nature like an
    Old wooden house or cabin
    Whose ruins I’ve explored on the way to
    Queen Basin, in abandoned
    mining camps of Colorado.
    It has to sit, hulking and useless,
    grudgingly permitting
    A weed or two to wedge between two
    Concrete blocks, under lost roofing tiles
    Where a column of sunshine
    Slips into no-nature’s-land.

  95. Iris Deurmyer

    Nature’s Kaleidoscope

    Butterflies, ladybugs, bumblebees,
    Lend color to the sky like a kaleidoscope.
    Hush and hear the hummingbird
    Adding his melody to the evening sounds.
    Soon the sky will be filled with the twinkle
    Of fireflies flitting about.

    Living creations on a miniature scale
    Painting a moving canvas if we but pause to observe.
    Dragonflies, moths, and cicadas too
    Wear their camouflage to blend in.
    As they move the patterns change
    Never the same view but always beautiful.

  96. Laural

    Nature Isn’t Us

    A seashell has rough and smooth
    Patches, dark and light
    Lines around the keyhole
    Where the limpet’s fluffy gills
    Used to extend into seawater.
    I feel thick and thin places in the shell and
    Imagine Georgia O’Keefe painting
    The white, the off white, the off off white
    The grey, the pale grey, and the black in meaningful
    Swirls and swoops
    That made the barnacle’s home.

    We live in a house with lathe and plaster
    Not a natural cave
    On our walls, canvas painted with rare earth
    Pigments and weavings of satin from India,
    Pictures of blue herons and patterns of red light,
    On our floors, nubbly Berber carpets, off white
    At least we have windows through which
    We can see the hummingbirds when they
    Visit the roses and bougainvillea.

  97. John H Maloney

    "I just found out about the April Poem Prompts and would like to see them from April 1 on. Have tried over the website to find this to no avail. Can you help????"

    Look on the navigation bar to the left for a link that says April 2008 (33), that will take you to a list of all the blog entries for this month. Scroll down to the bottom of that page for April 1st.

  98. Iain D. Kemp

    Tis the season to be sharing, so here’s an oldie. Me? I loves it, precious. You? well, thats uppa to yu!!

    How green is my Tuna?

    Leaping through the water
    sun glistening on the foam
    the glory of creation
    searches for a home.

    And diving ‘neath the waves
    the creature takes a taste:
    man’s gift of pollution—
    deadly toxic waste.

    Praying for their future
    the Dolphins gently sing
    Goodbye, Ciao, So-long
    and thanks for nothing!

  99. Lin

    I just found out about the April Poem Prompts and would like to see them from April 1 on. Have tried over the website to find this to no avail. Can you help????

  100. Janice

    "I went green today. I found the lively
    Spinach under the stale crouton of life,"
    but she can’t be impressed, my half sister, who suckled
    tofu straight from the curd
    at birth. We have different mothers, mine
    who worked at a chicken plant, cracking their necks
    as the Tyson hens came down the line. Hers
    Mother Nature, more or less, a bountiful woman
    who knew about yoga before the rich
    were spahhhhh-ing all the time and drinking
    fortified water. But we are both vegetarians,
    my sis and I. She because she likes animals and I
    can’t stand to eat them, knowing how they keep
    their houses. The difference is she’ll never shop
    at Wal-Mart. And I can’t afford
    anything else.

  101. Lyn Sedwick

    So easy

    To get spooked on the lake,
    Where deep water meets the bank,
    Not near the houses with their sand beaches
    Sloping into clear water where matted weeds
    Support the squawky little birds that like
    To walk on them, not there, but in the brown murky
    Water near Leu Gardens where thick ogre fingers reach up
    To rake the bottom of the canoe. And when
    I look down, their ragged sleeves of moss
    Give them so much life that I flinch,
    Even knowing they are only
    Dead tree branches.

    Lyn Sedwick

  102. Renee Goularte

    Urban Peregrines

    A pair of falcons takes turns
    sitting on their four eggs
    on the roof of a high rise,
    their nesting habits are visible to the world
    via web cam. Every change of the guard,
    every body reposition is coo’ed over
    by humans living vicariously, hovering
    over laptops and in work stations.
    Pigeon delivery reports are emailed
    by the hour. On Earth Day,
    when the eyases hatch,
    all hell breaks loose on the email list.


  103. John H Maloney

    Great poems, everyone. :)
    Writing today’s piece inspired me to combine it with day three’s poem and two more that I just dashed off into a cycle of haikus. Enjoy :)

    Changing Seasons

    Bitter chill recedes
    as birds reprise their songs,
    brightening my mood.

    The mercury soars,
    tourist sightings have begun.
    The days grow longer.

    A chill in the air,
    the sound of abandoned leaves.
    Play time is over.

    Bringing cold stillness,
    the veil of white obscures all.
    Darkness comes early

  104. Joannie Stangeland

    Where is the Nature

    Not in the lilacs beginning to bud
    nor in those three rose tulips–
    not in the leaves of the Japanese maple
    beginning to unpleat themselves
    like small hands made of feathers–
    not in the plum blossoms that litter the ground
    like yesterday’s leftover snow–
    not even in the ravine
    where moss climbs the tree trunks
    in shadows and paves the road a brilliant green.
    You’ll find no wildness here, unless
    you can spot the possums, raccoons–
    unless you can see the belly of the coyote
    who comes out only at night.

  105. Bill Kirk

    Nature’s Ways
    By Bill Kirk

    The Mother Spirit
    Calls us to her bosom,
    Suckling us until
    We are finally able
    To fend for ourselves.

    Unforgiving if trifled with,
    She is raw, pure and
    Simple in her beauty—
    At once both awful
    And awe inspiring.

    She requires
    So very little from us,
    Yet she demands
    Respect and attention from her
    Merely mortal supplicants,
    Lest her furies bring
    Each and all to our
    Individual and
    Collective knees.

    Word Count: 70

    Industry 101
    By Bill Kirk

    By all accounts
    Our call has been
    To break the back
    Of the natural world and
    Bring it into submission.
    Doing it well,
    We have been called

    So, where did it all go awry?
    At long last, the products
    From decades of
    Clanging steel
    Have been condemned
    For their ill treatment
    Of nature’s landscape.

    Concrete structures,
    Having risen where
    Magnificent forests once lived,
    Now fall into decay
    And scar the very land
    That gave them birth.

    Have we waited
    Too long to learn?
    Is there still time for
    Retribution and forgiveness?
    Reformed Fathers of Industry,
    Must show us the way.

    Word Count: 101

  106. Maria Jacketti

    In Post-Industrial Pennsylvania

    on Earth and also
    also Election Day,
    my candidate in limbo,
    I vote for him anyway:
    all the yellow flowers
    in my backyard,
    applaud, the intention:
    solar telephones and lanterns.

    Maria Jacketti

  107. Debra Elliott

    This is an old poem I wrote several years ago but, I wanted to share since today is Earth Day:

    Save the Earth

    Save the Earth
    that’s our motto;
    we’re about to hit
    Stop all the smog;
    the drain is getting

    Save the Earth
    plant a tree;
    so we will be
    pollution free.
    Clean up the mess;
    so we can be our

    Save the Earth
    give it another chance;
    it’s time to
    Protect our resources;
    join forces.

    Save the Earth
    do it today;
    don’t delay.

  108. Matthew Abel

    Nature Poem

    The wind whispers through the trees
    as I crunch the twigs on the trail.
    Standing upright, my eyes at the sky
    Colors bright and vibrant.
    Grendel (the canine) runs ahead
    A smell too keen to ignore
    as he sniffs and lets me pass
    and he runs to catch up.
    We are alone

  109. Bill Toad


    The fish I think they know it’s Fall
    They lose their glow, their growth is small
    They cut way down on surface feeding
    Those ripples are leaves, not bugs’ wings beating.


    The pigeons dance in plates
    left by passers-by
    They feed on spent rice cakes
    and Cousin Chicken’s thigh.

  110. Ang

    Where I Am

    I am fortunate here in suburbia to have
    A bit of nature still intact
    The water behind my house
    Though in a manmade form
    Stills brings a solace to my soul
    When I watch the heron walk in slow motion along the edge
    Then gobble a fish that jiggles for at last a minute in its throat
    Or see the turtles heads bob to the surface
    Or hear a bass splash
    I am glad
    I have oaks, crepe myrtles, and oleanders to rest my eyes upon
    An occasional owl or osprey will swoop across my backyard
    Ducks waddle across my lawn in companionable pairs
    The lizards sun themselves languidly on my back patio
    Then sprint away at the approach of my cat
    Though I yearn for the country and rolling hills
    Or the city with all its excitement
    Or a small town where I could walk to the corner store
    I am grateful for
    My small bit of land
    Here in the suburbs
    Where God has placed me.

  111. Elizabeth K. Keggi

    "Nature" poem:

    If I Could See The Wind On A Clear Day

    The calming sweep of breeze upon the unreaped grasses
    Is the shimmer of a 60’s go-go dress.

    The cheerful pace of white clouds against a blue sky
    Is a rope steadily drawing the children to shore
    After a lazy day tubing down the river.

    The conversation of branches to branches
    And leaves to leaves in the swaying trees
    Is hot coffee and newspapers at the local café

    The heady smell of rain on its way
    Is the first thawed dirt of Spring—
    The feel of fresh air after the storm has passed
    Is a glass of lemonade at the end of a
    Summer afternoon of playing badminton.

    If I could see the wind, I’d see the Holy Spirit
    manifested in everything and everyone.

    Elizabeth K. Keggi

  112. Tonya Root

    Desert Seagull

    Swirling hawk over man-made lake
    Seagull of the desert
    Dipping and diving
    Looking for a single tasty fish
    Ever vigilant in his watch

    He is master of his domain
    Water, land and sky

    Satisfied to be soaring now
    Looking for just one
    Day’s worth of sustenance
    Content to live only for today
    And let tomorrow take care of itself

  113. Michelle H.

    All Four Seasons

    I was born in winter…
    The icicles glisten from the trees
    The quiet of the forest fresh with snow
    Nature’s winter ball gown
    Clean, fresh and sparkling
    Snowball fights and snowpersons
    Perhaps that is why I love winter.

    He was born in summer…
    Sunshine on my skin
    Sand between my toes
    Waters gentle lullabye
    Warm winds that caress just so
    The smell of freshly mown grass
    Perhaps that is why I love summer.

    She was born in autumn…
    The crisp fresh air
    Startling blue skies
    Nature’s canvas in the hills
    The crunch beneath the feet
    Pumpkins, apples, and the harvest ball
    Perhaps that is why I love autumn.

    She was born in spring…
    Nature’s cradle fills again
    Lilacs, violets, and Irises
    Stormy skies that bring the rain
    That turn the grass to green
    The Loons call no longer mute
    Perhaps that is why I love spring.

    April 22, 2008
    © Michelle H.

    Fast, compact
    Surfing, reading, watching
    News, jokes, games, correspondence
    Buying, wishing, selling
    Smart, wise

    April 22, 2008
    © Michelle H.

  114. Carol -Amherst, Mass


    So dreary inside –
    prune-faced bosses
    make my heart beat fast
    my head hurt
    my stomach flutter
    with nervous ache

    So easy to forget who I am

    But you are so nice
    You brush my face
    With your breezy kisses

    You send the birds
    To twitter at my feet
    You send your light
    To swirl all around
    Deep inside me
    Divine warmth

    Above me,
    your soft supple leaves
    wave to me in silent elegance
    as I smile up at them

    As I breathe in
    Your billowy warm air,
    my mind slows down;

    I am outside
    here with you
    and am reminded of
    who I really am

    I am not my worries
    I am not my woes
    I am you and
    You are me

  115. Joe

    I’ve done a combo poem only cuz that’s just the way it came out:)

    The Nature Of Things

    A walk in the forest
    to clear my head.
    A clearcut fells it.
    The trees become lumber
    to build a new home.
    Somebody buys it.

    Shipping lanes busy
    transporting goods.
    Countries supply them.
    Oil spills happen,
    the guilty are charged-
    if we can find them.

    Technology brought us
    the man on the moon
    and Elvis Live by Satellite.
    Now used in Holy wars
    and to find cancer cures;
    one man’s wrong is another man’s right.

    As technology advances,
    people embrace it.
    We have but one planet,
    let’s not deface it.

  116. Bruce Niedt

    #1: Nature

    "Earth Day ‘08"

    On the very first Earth Day
    my first college girlfriend and I
    helped plant trees on the campus.
    We were naïve enough to believe
    that putting a few saplings in the ground
    would help save the planet.
    We didn’t do enough – big enough,
    hard enough, soon enough.

    Now the future is a gamble,
    but everyone is going green
    because it’s very chic
    and a hot-button business.
    I did my part today –
    walked to the supermarket
    instead of taking the hybrid,
    but forgot my reusable canvas bags.

    #2: Industrial (sort of – this actually happened in my office today.)

    "The Machine Stops"
    (after E.M. Forster)

    The server is down.
    Information denied,
    administration stopped at the door.
    Each time it crashes
    we are rendered more helpless.
    We search in vain for busy-work –
    winnowing out paper files,
    dusting off our desks.
    Eventually, like prairie dogs,
    we poke our heads up
    over the cubicle walls,
    smile, say hello.
    Feeling adventurous,
    we meander into the aisles,
    chat and joke and laugh.
    And the bravest among us,
    in a rebellious gesture,
    take a walk outside.

  117. Rodney C. Walmer

    Earth day

    So, they say it’s earth day
    how will that change
    anything many do
    will anyone think
    in an environmental way
    has there been an exchange
    of cars and the gas they drink
    Oh, it’s true
    for one day
    many will do
    in a different way
    but, in the overall scheme
    is one day enough
    to prove they mean
    to make changes
    that are just too tough
    will anyone learn
    about the atmosphere
    and the fluorocarbons they burn
    no, in reality
    none will see, that
    all that’s said and done today
    will simply go in one ear. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 4/22/08 For both prompts, either, or neither depending on your POV.

  118. KP

    The sun shines
    brightly overhead
    a hard shadow
    falls at my feet

    birds chirp
    bees buzz
    circling the flowers

    the grass sparkles
    freshly cut
    spiky green

    the sky darkens
    clouds roll in
    drip drop, drip drop

    the squirrels scamper
    the birds hunker down
    the world absorbs
    April showers

  119. Michelle Cooper





    H. Michelle Cooper

  120. patti williams


    Water’s Edge

    I walk along the ocean’s edge
    The waves swirling
    Round my legs
    My feet sink into the warm wet sand.
    The horizon burns a calm and steady glow
    As the water’s rhythm soothes
    My troubled thoughts
    Easing my mind enough,
    Allowing me to walk
    Alone in peace,
    Without you.

    (a second nature poem just for fun – I promise I’ve done nothing wrong)

    Get A Clue

    I’m going out to the ocean
    To drown a thing or two
    I’m going out to the ocean
    And yes, one of those things is you.

    You wrote me a letter
    You say you have no clue
    But after you’ve been in the ocean
    Maybe it will all come back to you.

    (industrial with a nature twist)


    We build house after house after house
    Box after box after box
    Chop tree after tree after tree.

    They coyotes, the birds
    The squirrels, the rabbits
    Have no place to go.
    But still

    We build house after house after house
    Box after box after box after box
    Until the sign comes:

  121. Margaret Fieland

    Greedy Spam Filters

    Monday there were
    57 messages
    from people I know
    in my Bulk Mail folder.

    Thesday I added them to
    my address book.

    Wednesday there were
    65 new messages
    from people I know
    in Bulk Mail.

    Thursday I read each one
    and marked it "not spam."

    Friday there were
    80 new messages
    from people I know
    in Bulk Mail.

    Saturday I emptied
    the folder.

    Sunday I emailed
    everyone in my address book
    asking them to resend
    their email.

    I wonder if they
    got it?

  122. Cheryl Wray

    "Earth Day"

    I lie on the blanket
    in the backyard,
    because we figure that’s the best way
    to celebrate
    Earth day.

    with the sun shining,
    the breeze blowing,
    the birds chirping
    (yes, all those cliches).

    but, most of all,
    a four-year-old
    around the blanket

    our future,
    so enamored
    with the idea of Earth Day,
    which she just discovered existed

  123. Kimberly K

    Weather wimp

    Today it is
    too hot.
    Hide from the
    sizzling sun.
    The adobe shade
    the only place to live.

    High desert
    before the rains come
    Only the
    brightly painted
    walls and bougainvilleas
    Even the jacarandas
    have given up.

    Within a week
    it will be
    too cold
    Olympic Peninsula
    Maybe the
    rhodies will
    have burst forth
    a hint of
    summer so many
    days away.

    Ocean blue
    forest green
    even if it means
    digging out the
    fleece again.


    More oil. Compromise? No. Thirsty this engine, that factory, those generators must have more. Dig deeper. Deeper into the earth, the wilderness. Trees, animals mean nothing. Just fill the tank NOW and keep it cheap. $4.00 a gallon? Obscene. It’s summer don’t tax fun. Freeway standstill. Trains and busses empty.
    So? Compromise? No. You, you compromise.

  124. Corinne

    The Wonderful World of… Nature?

    To get to the movie
    we elect to walk under
    the avenue of boastful cherry trees
    exploded into full regalia.

    We are enraptured, faces
    upturned, the merry
    and magical blooms backlit
    by the glorious sun and
    perfect, cloudless sky.

    I could weep and the
    magnificence courses through me, I am
    touched by divinity.

    And then Julia
    "Oh, it’s just like Disney!"
    and something within me
    collapses, dejected.

  125. Rodney C. Walmer

    And They Call it Progress

    Once there was no industry
    The buffalo roamed wild and free
    driven to near extinction
    they are back, but only on controlled farms
    The distinction
    is that we claim to keep them from harm

    Once there were many a lush rainforest
    now through industrialization
    we use methods like slash and burn
    To the dismay of many environmentalist
    leading to the realization
    that the trees provide the oxygen our bodies burn

    Once there were clean rivers, water, and skies
    now, there are brown foamy bubbles
    flowing where those waters once would flow
    oh, industry claims it tries
    to solve the troubles
    but, there is a truth we all know

    How much does the government regulate
    when it comes to industrial waste
    Well, that is truly an ongoing debate
    While that debate rages on,
    there are rivers glowing green
    all the fish are gone
    not that they have the same taste
    they had before the regulations for
    all of that industrial waste

    True, Industry helps the economy
    by bringing us cheaper stores like Walmart
    Items, that just wanna be
    the same quality
    as their more expensive counter part. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 4/22/08 my prompt #22 poem for prompt #2 You might guess, I’m a tree hugger.

  126. Sarah


    Western Texas is a desert
    so I shouldn’t have been surprised
    to see a herd of seven camels
    in a field near the highway.
    But I had only seen camels
    in the zoo and at a live nativity.
    I held the image close to me
    on the long drive home
    with the broken A/C
    and the fuel tanker overturned
    on the interstate, blocking all lanes.
    We, and about a thousand other cars,
    took the back roads, clogged them
    with our impatience, traffic crawling.
    Staff members from the nursing home
    next to the road ferried out
    cups of water to passengers
    mired in sweat and road grit.
    As the cool liquid passed my lips,
    I thought of camels, seven of them,
    their field impossibly green.

  127. Emily Blakely

    “World wide-open”

    Exchanging the northwest with its wide expanses
    For an eastern metropolis took mighty big chances
    Freedom to roam left far behind
    Loneliness crept in with the city confines
    A neighborhood park I grew to treasure
    For discovery made there brought great pleasure
    Jungle-gym beams my son often climbed
    Stamped Portland, OR, comfort of home well-timed
    It took a tree and man’s ingenuity
    Rail transportation as well as technology
    How many young lives climbed that massive beam
    Perchance read the words that lead them to dream
    One day to leave their eastern shore
    Fly cross-country, the northwest to explore
    The world is open, boundaries are no more

  128. Linda


    frigid, in its frost
    impervious, the earth’s scab
    resists assured change

    feeble gleams
    muted, softly stroke the surface
    to summon renewal

    puny shoots of promise
    gallant, thrust and strive
    through frozen ash, clay, leaves

    unfurled leaves emerge
    tenuous, exultant in
    brilliant joyous dance

    *Italian for sun

    Feeling thankful for the sunny day and the end of winter cold. A four stanza haiku of sorts. Peace, Linda

  129. Lori

    I missed yesterday but added my contribution to yesterday’s comments and am caught up now. So here goes nothing;

    Waves crash against shore, violent
    and yet so peaceful and soothing,
    losing myself in the sound of the sea.
    Free on the wind, soul soaring over the ocean,
    instilled with awe at the power of creation,
    I find myself, lost and found, in it’s beauty.

  130. Tonya Root

    Belief & Truth

    I’d like to believe
    that I am in control
    that I can make a big difference
    that I alone can save the world.

    But in truth I know
    that this earth is beyond my control
    that all I can do is my part
    that together we can make a small difference.

    I absolutely do believe
    that everything in this world has a design
    that within that design I play an integral role
    that my greatest responsibility is to my fellow man.

    And in truth I know
    that I am insignificant, and yet all important
    that I have a calling which is beyond my control
    that I must seek the Way through which the world is saved.

  131. halfmoon_mollie


    It’s deceptive
    outside my back door
    lies acres of green
    a place where people
    trod grass and chase
    after a little white
    spheroid, but after
    dark they are gone
    and in the shining
    sometimes the shadow
    of a deer
    of a fox
    a sleepy rustle
    of a nesting bird

    Across the road
    the semis rumble
    their exhaust wafts
    up to my bedroom window
    as the drivers pull
    up to the loading dock
    and food is piled into
    the trailers
    the vibrations
    cause my floors
    to tremble and
    disturb my sleep

  132. Chris Granholm Jr.

    "Rantings of City-Folk"

    I care about the Earth
    and all that is in it
    I really do realize
    our only home is this planet
    But out lives are much easier
    with modern convenience
    Technology improved
    from the way we lived once
    No longer a candle
    or oil it need be
    A flick of a switch
    for incandescence to see
    Forget the horse and buggy
    or a ship to sail by
    Cars go much faster
    and planes let us fly
    If you truly miss me
    a phone is all you need
    Better than waiting days on end
    for a letter to read
    I know the air is harsh
    and the water is muck
    And we do so much worse
    just to save a buck
    But I rather like living
    in my city today
    And I really wouldn’t have it
    any other way

  133. Rodney C. Walmer

    I am reposting due to the spacing problem. Sorry.

    How are we going to breath without them trees? “Randy Owens of Alabama”

    Mother Earth is Dying
    At the current rate
    this planet will be desolate
    within a century
    If we are going to save her
    we had better hurry

    Mother earth is in pain
    In fact she’s dying
    From the deforestation
    to the acid rain
    it’s plain to see
    this once great nation
    isn’t what it used to be

    The time to act
    is long gone and past
    the very fact
    is extinction,
    and we will be the last
    When there is no life left
    this once beautiful world
    will be bereft
    of the living
    No longer giving
    The nutrients cells need
    for life to evolve
    All because of greed
    and environmental problems
    we were unwilling to solve. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 4/22/08 Environmental prompt #1

  134. Sara McNulty

    Whoops!, second line of 1st poem should be `ever’ no `every’
    third line of second poem should no `at no time without’, instead of `with.’ Don’t know where my head is today.

  135. Lisa McMahan

    A Simpler Way

    $3.45 for a gallon of gasoline
    Price increases are beginning to make me mean

    Work—can’t afford the gas to go
    Not working will surely starve me so.

    Whatever happened to the day
    when horse and buggy made our way?

    The days of a simpler time
    When what was his was his and mine was mine.

    A time when money was a luxury
    Not a daily necessity.

    Where one relied on the land
    To put food in his hand.

    Let’s go back to a time before
    When raising a family didn’t make you poor.

    I say forget the oil companies
    And the way they steal our pennies.

    Let them keep their gas
    Cuz I’m living as they did in the past.

    I refuse to give you my money anymore
    Going back to a simpler time; a time my grandfather knew before.

    The oil execs can swim in extorted money
    But no more will it come from me.


    Sitting on the rocks by a mountain stream
    Listening to the lapping of the crystal clear water
    As it rushes past being pulled by earth’s gravity
    I am mesmerized by the flow of the stream’s tranquility.

    Surrounded by the majestic snowcapped peaks
    Nothing to darken the serenity of my existence
    As I am bathed in the warm sunshine peaking
    Its brilliant rays through the canopy of the trees.

    Birds sing their sweet harmony
    In cadence to the beat of the water
    That flows swiftly against the rocks
    Pitching it’s crescendo in a pool of its blue lagoon.

    Butterflies flutter in search of a place to land
    Caught in the tail of a warm summer’s breeze
    Finally coming to perch upon my hand
    Beseeching the comfort of a friendly face.

    I could sit here for an eternity
    Lost in the magnificence of the tranquility
    As these towers of earth secretly harbor
    Nature’s most valuable hidden treasures.

    These mountains I now call home
    Bring peace and serenity to its people
    And to think all I have to do
    Is look out my back door
    To find the peace I am searching for.

  136. Rodney C. Walmer

    Mt Poem for Nature, I will do the industry one later.

    How are we going to breath without them trees? “Randy Owens of Alabama”
    Mother Earth is Dying
    At the current rate
    this planet will be desolate
    within a century
    If we are going to save her
    we had better hurry

    Mother earth is in pain
    In fact she’s dying
    From the deforestation
    to the acid rain
    it’s plain to see
    this once great nation
    isn’t what it used to be

    The time to act
    is long gone and past
    the very fact
    is extinction,
    and we will be the last
    When there is no life left
    this once beautiful world
    will be bereft
    of the living
    No longer giving
    The nutrients cells need
    for life to evolve
    All because of greed
    and environmental problems
    we were unwilling to solve. . .

    ©Rodney C. Walmer 4/22/08 Environmental prompt #1

  137. Sara McNulty


    A Painting in my Yard

    Shrugging off the last lingering
    shivers of winter
    an Evergreen raises its arms in joy
    as April cedes to May

    Sunlight scatters rays—gold on green
    an abstract painting,
    a Monet masterpiece, a gift from
    the palette of nature.

    The world grows ever smaller
    The buildings, every taller
    We are at no time with entertainment
    A CD to listen to, a Law & Order arraingment
    The beach is always the beach
    But how to get within reach?


  138. Michelle Cooper


    Yes, God I believe……….
    You made the sun also the rain
    And the mighty power when
    I call your name

    Yes, God I believe……….
    You made the sea and the
    Distant shores which is one
    Reason I praise You even more

    Yes, God I believe……….
    You made the clouds in the
    Sky this is proof You
    Lord could never lie

    Yes, God I believe……….
    You made the flowers also
    The trees and that You Lord
    Died then rose to set me free

    Yes, God I believe……….
    You made the rivers and
    The streams with beauty that
    Makes me feel only through
    Jesus Christ I have been

    Happy Earth Day!
    H. Michelle Cooper

  139. Marin Christensen

    Here’s the second poem (short, but sweet):


    A road spread across
    a yellowed desert, its
    tar-pocked surface resemble
    a jigsaw puzzle gone awry;

    A legacy of puzzle pieces, for
    our children’s children
    to reassemble. . .

  140. Linda Brown

    The first poem is yesterday’s (overhead line) and the 2nd is nature poem. I’m not proud of either one.


    add a little excitement to your life.
    Don’t be your same boring self.
    Do something you’ve never done before.
    It can be as simple as jumping into the river
    with your clothes on. Go to a new place.
    Take a risk. Eat your oysters raw.

    The grass takes refuge from the sun
    as a cloud makes shadow.
    We are barefoot by the fence,
    listening to the rabbits
    in Mr. Charles’ yard,
    being entertained by the smells
    of lilac and honeysuckle.
    Mother wears her gaily colored scarf.
    Uncle Guy approaches on his motorcycle.
    We hear him coming before he arrives.

  141. Tiffany B

    "Would you send your daughter to summer camp?"

    Wouldn’t it be wrong to deny her?
    What would I say. I’m sorry, honey,
    but the moon is not for you.
    The shimmery crescent on lake Arbutus
    making a wavy white scar,
    cannot be yours, I kept it.

    I want her to learn about herself
    and her place through the sound
    of the lake and the loons at night.
    To learn about the Earth by spending
    her summers where things are alive.
    Carrying on the tradition of girls
    camping there for over a century.

    When the space you exist in
    is so alive, you want to stop
    and press your ear to the ground
    to listen to the heartbeat.

    Of course I will send my daughter
    to summer camp, of course I will
    want her to see, herself, and the world
    from the outside looking in.

  142. Lorien Vidal

    Not a Driver

    I’ve not been one to firstly put the keys in my pocket
    So used to the glide of my feet over pavement
    The rattle of change in my purse
    Sometimes its a curse
    To live the the suburbs, where everything’s remote
    Where the lack of walkability is a joke
    And avoiding emissions is a mission
    How many wind up moving back to urban conveniences?
    There you might save on gas, but you choke on the smoke

  143. Iain D. Kemp

    Earth Day Poems…
    One of each, but I’m not telling you which is which!

    Earth Day- A time for celebration.

    Space Captain Attenborough
    Looked long and hard at
    The holo-painting of
    Today was her day
    A pan-galactic holiday celebrating the
    Demise of mans birth home.
    Six hundred years after her desertion.
    His ancestors were there, amongst the last
    Billion remaining humans
    The lucky few who had taken
    To the stars

    Having never lived under a real atmosphere
    The Space Captain found it incredible
    To believe that his own species could be
    So careless with that which kept them
    He toasted the hologram and turned to pursue his
    Duties, after a quick salute
    To his ancestors home,
    He wondered what rain felt like…


    The Red Stag

    The Red Stag
    Stands proud
    Noble, bold
    Strong and powerful
    Coat shining in the sunlight
    Antlers bristling, gleaming
    Ready for action
    Ready to run
    Ready to charge
    Ready to take me
    Hurtling down the highway
    With the top down
    Wind in my hair
    As I drive my
    Beautiful pimiento
    Red 1976 MKII

  144. Don Swearingen

    A Rhyming (gasp) Tanka
    Protesting My Innocence!

    I thought I loved her.
    Oh! Hear my peroration!
    I love her. For sure.
    I drowned in adoration!
    She must be on vacation!

  145. M J Dills

    Earth Day
    A poem about nature


    The man was waving his arms
    Madly trying to get my attention
    There is a snake in your garden, he said.
    One culebra
    Very big.
    And spread his hands
    Fingertips stretched and wiggling.
    It slithered across the road from the canal
    And found a hiding place
    Shielded from large leggy creatures
    Who scream and make a lot of motion.
    Look! Look!
    There is a snake in your garden!
    One culebra
    He is gray
    Muy peligroso
    Very dangerous.
    The rescuers arrive.
    Peeking out from behind the greens
    The diamond shaped head;
    Tongue warns
    Don’t bother me.
    One culebra
    Very frightened.
    To release him back into the jungle
    Is my desire.
    But first, he attempts to enter my house
    Through the front door.
    I am only a ten-toed sloth
    And somewhat expressive.
    One culebra
    Is awarded a one-way journey
    In a shiny new bag
    Tied at the top.
    I am the invader.
    I am the guest in his country.
    One culebra.

  146. Marcos Cabrera

    Planet Earth

    Planet Earth at a perfect spot from the sun.
    In most matters it’s similar to us
    because all the nutrients we need since birth
    they are all coming from the Planet Earth,
    in one way or another we belong.
    If we are wreckless in our acts and thoughts
    our own nature turning into a maze
    the environment itself becomes hazed
    and the beautiful earth a danger zone.

    It is like a mother, our source of food,
    the best fountain for us to heal our wounds.

    For each of our senses it has a role
    and for every power an element,
    the chakras were divided in seven
    melting with the world our body and soul.
    All the secrets as of yet we don’t know,
    though the earth continues its mighty spin
    the summer, the autumn, winter and spring
    in that same order they will always come.
    It’s in the Universe our lovely home.

  147. Lin Neiswender

    I Hear the Owls

    Nine thirty P.M. in my study
    Leaning back in my recliner
    Laptop blazing, words flowing,
    Suddenly I hear it
    But think I can’t be

    An owl hooting, calling that
    Hunting call just like
    On Mutual of Omaha nature shows
    I am amazed and then scared-
    It didn’t call my name, did it?

  148. Callan Bignoli-Zale

    The City In Half A Hundred Ways

    1. Post-industrial wasteland; 2. Asbestos-ridden;
    3. Empty factories; 4. Filled with shattered glass;
    5. Well past its heyday; 6. Stagnant and sad;
    7. Still too bright at night; 8. And energy-sapping;
    9. Roads, litter-clogged; 10. Sewers and parks;
    11. People bustle by; 12. Breathing in dirty air;
    13. Smokestacks keep pumping; 14. Horrid clouds;
    15. Cars creep; 16. Hot carbon and cool chrome;
    17. Grimy bricks; 18. Stained sidewalks sizzle;
    19. Store windows glisten; 20. Chemical-cleaned;
    21. This peaceful pollution; 22. Goes unquestioned;
    23. Hairdressers go on spraying; 24. Trucks travel;
    25. This bombed-out shell does have a pulse.

    26. The hidden trails; 27. Crossing beneath bridges;
    28. Overfilled marshes; 29. Lithe, life-brimming;
    30. The rising hills; 31. Pockmarked with trees;
    32. Silence and seclusion; 33. No cars, only birds;
    34. Untainted treasures; 35. Undeveloped, alone;
    36. Unused, wet or hilly; 37. Not choked, but clean;
    38. Sun shines brighter here; 39. Plants exhale easily;
    40. No unnatural nooses; 41. And grasses are greener;
    42. A protected place; 43. Still paved, but safe;
    44. The way the sun hits; 45. Bouncing off waves;
    46. The murky wind-blown ripples; 47. Snapping turtles;
    48. Shady, thriving; 49. Not yet overrun; 50. Still alive.

  149. Teri Coyne


    "This is where it started,”
    Arnold says as we stop
    along the Great Rift Valley

    We have covered many miles
    across dirt roads
    barely sheltered by umbrella trees
    past vast plains
    covered in a carpet of honey brown grass
    that slowly gives way to
    lush green rolling hills

    Tea and coffee grow here
    some plants spill onto the shoulder
    Arnold shows us the leaves

    At the Reserve we board
    vans armed with film and layered
    in lotions to keep the bugs from biting
    and the sun from scarring

    here is where the animals
    are free to roam
    sleeping in the shade by a cool stream
    in the heat of the afternoon
    wandering and hunting
    at dawn and dusk

    women rule out here
    they hunt and nurture
    the momma cheetah who frolicked
    with her cubs in the morning
    is the same one who is licking
    her chops over her kill
    in the early evening

    “she hides her babies,” Arnold says
    she comes back for them when she
    is done hunting

    the cats are what we want
    lions, leopards, cheetahs
    when they wander in close
    the earth smells like a litter box
    their manes so close you can pet them

    the road to safari
    is walked by many
    government posters urge
    the use of condoms
    the guides have stories
    bloody ones of life as refugees
    of families lost to war and disease
    there is a terrible beauty here

    “we live life close to the bone,”
    Arnold tells me one night
    as we sit and watch the stars make another bold
    his rifle rests beside him
    somewhere beyond a monkey screeches
    a warning

    to whom
    it is hard to say

  150. Bonnie

    I climb the hills in search of a treasure.
    The morel, or dry land fish,
    as they are referred to in Eastern Kentucky,
    only come out once a year.
    Over ravines and through briar patches
    with a walking stick in my hand to steady my step
    over slippery rocks and fallen trees,
    and to ward off any unsuspecting copperhead
    that I might happen to disturb.
    On I go over the dark damp terrain;
    thorns grabbing at my clothes,
    trying to hold me back,
    but almost oblivious to the pain
    I press on toward my goal.
    My eyes strain scanning the forest floor
    over the ground carpeted with last years fallen leaves.
    Time passes, but still nothing.
    Maybe it’s too early,
    maybe someone has been here before me.
    But I refuse to give up yet.
    I keep looking.
    Finally I see what I have come for;
    there on the ground in the shade of a rotting
    log it stands.
    Falling to my knees as excitedly
    as a child finding her first Easter egg,
    I tenderly pick the morel
    from where it stands proud and silent.
    Placing in the bag I spot another,
    and then another
    And still more.
    I breath in deeply and thank God
    for in all of his creation
    this tiny mushroom is the most exciting thing
    I’ve seen in a long time.

  151. Nancy

    Clear Cut
    I understand they aren’t exactly
    clearing the rain forest, no old growth oaks, no last remaining
    chestnuts. No ancient hallowed
    ground unsanctified, just the fields
    and woods where we once played,
    back when our mothers turned us
    out in summer with orders not to
    show our faces until dark

    While they hung the wash on lines
    not just for the windblown sunkiss’d
    smell that came in with our bedsheets
    but for the cross-the-fence chats
    with other mothers whose sons
    and daughters roamed the woods
    with us, forded ice-cold, ankle-deep
    springs, one day playing soldiers,
    Indians the next.

    Out the window now, earthmovers
    push mounds of red Alabama clay,
    making room for more new houses with
    zero lot line, low maintenance lawns.
    I know to someone they’ll be home,
    but where will the soldiers and Indians
    play? Where will the deer and red fox roam?

  152. Marin Christensen


    I picked a flower the other day
    and it yelled at me. It said,
    “it’s so cold here, put me back!”
    But, it was flower-speak, I couldn’t

    I held the flower in my hand and looked
    at its emotionless face; a white, sticky
    tear ran down my pinky finger,
    slowly, it tickled a little as it forged
    over knuckle and joint. It stained
    my finger despite my attempts
    to wipe it off on the leg of my
    jeans; I raised the flower to my
    nose to dwell in its sweetness;

    Soon the sweet faded and another
    white tear flowed, this time down
    my cheek and smeared my rouge, leaving
    a flesh colored line down to my jaw. I looked
    into its emotionless face, and I searched;
    I searched for life, I found nothing
    but a whimper.

    I threw the flower into the street.

  153. Connie

    Country Girl

    As a child in rural western Pennsylvania,
    I rarely stayed indoors
    I rarely wore shoes in the summer
    There were no fences
    I had acres and acres of
    Trees to climb, hills to slide down on
    Ponds to capture frogs in
    Creeks to splash around in
    Black-eyed Susans and Tiger Lilies to pick
    Poppies to pop, grapevines to swing on
    Fresh blackberries, elderberries and grapes to eat
    Woods to hike in, Rain to take long walks in
    Lightning bugs to chase
    Canada geese to be chased by
    Brightly colored leaves to gather and jump in
    Now as an adult
    The Colorado blue sky calls, “Admire me!”
    The mesa beckons, “Explore me!”
    The mountains invite, “Climb me!”
    The lakes call, “Let’s go kayaking!”
    But I stay mostly indoors where I hear
    “Feed me!”
    “Clean me!”
    “Write me!”
    “Watch me!”
    “Love me!”
    When all the while the little girl inside me
    Longs to go outside and play.

  154. Heather


    The most beautiful flutter of yellow
    Drifted by on a draft of cool delight
    Paused for a breath and suckle of golden nectar

    The glory and wonder of creation
    Graced me, illuminated my spirit
    Then continued on
    Never to be seen by theses eyes again

  155. ck


    My foot,
    my carbon foot,
    walks the earth,
    cuts tracks,
    breaks twigs,
    dislodges stones,
    tramples grass,
    razes forests,
    culls species,
    drains rivers,
    oils seas,
    leaves its mark,
    walks on.

  156. Debra Elliott

    Here is prompt # 1 Nature

    Prompt # 1 Nature

    God’s Handiwork

    I see it the sky,
    the richness of the hue…
    I see it in the ocean,
    the deepnest of the blue…

    I see it in the flowers,
    a bounty of delight…
    I see it in the day
    in the night…

    I see it in mountains,
    high …
    I see it the starry

    I see it as day breaks…
    I see it in streams and

    It is all around,
    God’s handiwork
    is abound…

  157. Sue Bench

    A Haze over Holland

    A haze over Holland
    looks yellow and gray.
    It comes from machines
    of this modern day.
    Those noisy leaf blowers,
    plus busses and trains;
    They all make their noises
    and spew smoke like rain.

    The brooks that are babbling
    speak to no ear.
    And the whispering winds
    we no longer hear.
    Loud honking geese
    fly unnoticed, it’s true.
    Long gone is the quiet
    creation once knew.

    So out to the country,
    a day trip, I’ll take.
    I’ll bask in the sunshine
    where life’s not so fake.
    I’ll listen to bird calls;
    hear rustling leaves.
    From the haze over Holland,
    I’ll have my reprieve.

  158. Monica Martin


    The flowers open in so many colors;
    The trees turn green and lush.
    The birds outside my window
    are the best alarm clock.
    The rain beats steadily as
    the clouds and the sun battle
    to dominate the sky.


    Beethoven pours from speakers
    as the computer screen
    brightens my room.
    My cellphone sings softly –
    A sweet message from you.