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17 Poems About Nature

Lissa enjoys writing poetry to express herself, and loves learning about new styles and experimenting with different patterns.


Nature is a rich subject for poetry. There are so many different images you can create and microcosms you can explore. Here I present 17 poems that I wrote about different aspects of nature and human interactions with the natural world, including a piece about Dr. Stephen Hawking, the late physicist who helped inspire me to pursue a career in science. I wanted to reflect the beauty and harshness of nature, and how quickly it can change from one or the other. I also wanted to show how we react to natural disasters and how we sometimes miss out on nature's smaller wonders in the rush of modern life. Please enjoy my poems about nature; I hope that they will make you think about how we fit into the world around us.

Between every two pines, there is a doorway to a new world.

— John Muir


Marshmallow outside

A raging tempest inside

Clouds have hidden depths


Passing By

When I walk through the park on my own

I see more than others' eyes are shown

So many people just pass by the rows

Of tulips in multicolored clothes

I see more than others' eyes are shown

Birds parked in formation, a plethora

Of tulips in multicolored clothes

Butterflies using grass for springboards

Birds parked in formation, a plethora

Benches hawk their wares: perfect resting place

Butterflies using grass for springboards

But nobody sees this spark of activity

Benches hawk their wares: perfect resting place

When I walk through the park on my own

But nobody sees this spark of activity

So many people just pass by the rows


The Song Of Eternity

You see a rock

Just a cold dead thing

What value could there be

in things that cannot speak?

I see an ancient soul

softly whispering its story

so few notice the wisdom

embossed silver on its surface

It speaks of its birth in fire

roiling magma spewing from the ground

blazing across the land leaving traces

of youth, wild and bright as the sun

This was before life itself

before amino acids were thrown together

in nature's tantrum, a fit of lightning

This soul has seen it all

It supports the world above

relishes in the triumphs of proud oak patriarchs

listens to the wind's confidential sighs

cries with the pouring rain

Remnants of epochs long gone sing in its grains

memories of the fantastical creatures it used to know

a leaf transformed in carbon, a legacy

of friends found and lost to time stepping forward

It has gone through intense changes

Pressure and heat would meld it into strange forms

sometimes it would resurface not knowing itself

but it always retained its essence in marks of fire

Sometimes it would languish near the beach

drawn by the inevitable pull of ebb and flow

It quietly fell to pieces battered by salty air

some would come back, some lost forever in the deep

Billions of sunrises giving way to sunsets

pages in a book, flickering by

We make a period, an ephemeral dot

but this soul will still be there in revelation

watching and observing time ever turning

living every joy and sorrow and love and death

You say it is just a rock

You are deaf to the song of eternity


The Old Tree

Old man bent over

An arch of gnarled limbs

Bleeding tannin on the ground

Holding the weight of the sky

On knotted shoulders

His leafy hair

Shedding on the path

Is made trivial by

Holding the weight of the sky

On knotted shoulders

His face bowed down

A lonely god, broken

Into bark, defeated by

Holding the weight of the sky

On knotted shoulders

Rooted firm still

Stubborn as he’s old

Protecting precious saplings by

Holding the weight of the sky

On knotted shoulders


Ocean Is A Tapestry

Ocean is a tapestry

Stitches switching from danger to beauty

Ultramarine swathes dabbed across the thread

Turning, obverting, to the horizon

Ever expanding beyond the eye to eternity

Just on the surface sits a ship

An agile, flimsy piece of driftwood

Waves toss the boat in a tantrum

Yawing and pitching in the storm

Violent in their voyage

Into the water, a stream of bubbles

Below the surface is magic itself

Golden beams of light illuminate the fish

Xanthic and violet flecks flashing by

Flying over kelp forests

Corals, a coat of many colors

Ziggurats rising on the reef

Prodigious populations of pelagic fish

Quickly and quietly hiding from

Krakens who lurk in these waters

Deeper and deeper into the abyss

Rolling rhythmic waves become calmer

Meandering currents guiding the way for

Leviathans in calm lethargy

Navigating alongside skeletal sailors

Heading deeper still, to the darkest heaven



July is camping

Underneath a star-strewn sky

Listening to stories around a fire

You lit for yourself

July is swimming

Underwater like a fish

Listening to the sound of bubbles

You blow for yourself

July is buggy

Understanding cicada calls

Hearing the hum of fireflies

You caught for yourself

July is freedom

Under a sunlit sky

Leaving down a winding road

You picked for yourself



Gaze into the burning glow of fire

Perhaps you’ll find the thing you seek

Many nuances of color to admire

The movement of the flames will dance and speak

Of ancient times before when its power was dire

Curling and winding in a manner so sleek

It may be beautiful but beware, it’s a liar

Even the strongest man will be wrought weak

In the face of their own funeral pyre

The brightness of the fire

Also speaks of its ire



The rambunctious flame

Dances off his candle post

To greet the curtains


The Deer

Here’s a forest

Here’s a deer

Deer is clumsy

Deer, oh dear

Dear and sweet

Dear and stumbling

Stumbling hooves

Stumbling right over

Over rivers

Over bridges

Bridges that are near

Bridges that are far

Far away

Far like mother

Mother is lost

Mother is gone

Gone with men

Gone away

Away from home

Away from trees

Trees so dark

Trees so tall

Tall and looming

Taller than small

Small legs running

Small and scared

Scared of trees

Scared of men

Men are big

Men have guns

Guns are loud

Guns took mother away

Away from home

Away from her little one

One foot in front of another

One always running alone

Alone in the forest

Alone, melting into trees

Trees so silent

Trees too quiet

Quiet becomes shouting

Quiet is no more

More running from trees

More running from men

Men with snarling faces

Men with heartless guns

Gun is raised to fire

Gun has perfect aim





Fate’s fingers stroke the land indiscriminately

When the twister roars its way through town

We are starting over with confetti in our hands

The broken body of a cow lying in the road

A farmer crying for more than spilled milk

Fate’s fingers stroke the land indiscriminately

Shredded threads of wood splintering the field

Lying among heaps of clothing, food, and furniture

We are starting over with confetti in our hands

A mother leaning against her overturned car

Hoping her call will reach the school

Fate’s fingers stroke the land indiscriminately

A tiny patch of day lilies and violets

Miraculously intact though faintly dusted

We are starting over with confetti in our hands

Fate’s fingers stroke the land indiscriminately

But there are some spots they missed

We will start over with confetti in our hands

Not all was tossed by the winds



Dirt warmed by the sun

Dark and loamy, but homey

To small pink earthworms



Will I leave a trace on some time-distant beach?

Eggshell bones peeking out of the sand

Reborn and placed in a child’s hand

With friends on a white shelf she can reach

She grows up and tires of curiosities

What was once creature and now is thing

Sold, replaced with a diamond ring

Left in a box where I can’t feel the breeze

They examine me haughtily as scientists do

Turning and prodding and poking and writing

If I were alive, then I would be fighting

They try to classify me but they don’t have a clue

Years stretch by in filaments of gray

They heft me into a cheap plastic coffin

Without a care I am clumsily tossed in

Left in a landfill with no one to say

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust


Water Haiku


Brave little raindrop

Wants to see the outside world

Takes a leap of faith


A puddle muddles

In thought about how he got

To spill on the ground


The gossiping brook

Bubbles and babbles away

To chat with the stream


River meanders

Through meadows and tall mountains

Looking for a home


The unknown deep sea

Dark caverns that hide secrets

Mysteries abound


The Desert

Deserts are harsh or so they say

Sand will blow in its lonely way

Nothing growing but desert heat

It weakens, leads you to defeat

Deadly snakes waiting for a meal

Your soft flesh holds juicy appeal

Don’t fall victim to a mirage

Walking through the dunes? Self sabotage!

From the desert there’s much to learn

Sand shifting slow in winding patterns

Whitest clouds in an endless sky

Melodies in coyote cries

Painted colors swirl from the earth

Sunsets and mesas have their worth

So much is hidden in the sand

The desert is a mystic land

The desert is the raven’s call

Harsh and yet beautiful in its coarse form

Raw and gleaming with weathered edges

Shimmering through waves of heat

Becoming a vision of mystery



Grains spiral through a mighty river

Turbid and whirling, dancing, unfurling

Varied in size and shape but together all the same

All hurtling towards waters unknown

Some float delicately at the top

Fine and silty with perfectly round edges

Never knowing or caring for what lies beneath

Some drag heavy on the bottom

Tumbling numbly to their fates

Having lost themselves long ago

I want to be the grain that bounces

Gravity and currents may drag it down

But it always rises into suspension again

Not perfectly round or perfectly flat

Imperfectly beautiful all the same

It knows highs and it knows lows

It knows it is going somewhere

With serene acceptance in a turbulent current

The grain drifts quietly to waters unknown


Silence In The Mist

Silence in the mist

It is just before dawn

The earth breathes deep

Through blue and green marshes

It is just before dawn

The frog begins his deep bass hum

Through blue and green marshes

Stained glass dragonflies drift

The frog begins his deep bass hum

The sun stretches his rays

Stained glass dragonflies drift

Lotus opens, a gentle flutter

The sun stretches his rays

The earth breathes deep

Eyes open, an awakening

Silence in the mist


In Memory of Stephen Hawking

Even if you were confined to a chair

You could still use your eyes

To see across the stars

To defy all the odds and exist

You led mankind across the universe

Traversing through ages of equations and speculations

From stardust you came

and to the stardust you will go

Your time here was brief

But you gave us infinity

In the depths of black holes

You were born on Galileo's death

And died on Einstein's birth

Life is punctuated by the birth and loss of brilliant thoughts

You once said you wanted to know the mind of God

To learn why we are here, why we exist

Maybe we exist to question

Maybe we exist to explore

Maybe we're all time travelers at your party

Even if we can only dance in one direction

Maybe we exist to connect to others

To make life a constellation full of bright shining stars

To forever shape and change them with our gravity

Maybe we're just a happy accident

In a factory run by no one

Spilling dreams into the emptiness

Making meaning out of nothingness

Maybe we exist simply to enjoy our brief flashes of light

In the darkness of spacetime

I am glad you helped us wonder

I am glad you helped us wander

I am glad you existed

Thank you, Dr. Hawking


More of my Poetry

  • Legend of the Minotaur
    This narrative poem is an exciting retelling of the myth of the minotaur, a terrifying monster with the head of the bull and the body of a man, stalking through a labyrinth on the Isle of Crete for his human sacrificial prey.
  • 11 Poems About Love for Valentine's Day
    Falling in love is a magical feeling. Each of these poems gives a snapshot of different love stories, capturing that feeling and bringing it to life.
  • 7 Poems About Breakups
    This is a collection of poems about the end of a relationship and all of the mixed emotions that can come with it.
  • 12 Horror Poems Perfect for Halloween
    This is a collection of dark spooky poems I wrote that would be perfect for Halloween.

© 2018 Lissa Clason

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