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Nature Poetry Quotes

Browse 41 quotes about Nature Poetry.

Nature Poetry Quotes

“Isn’t it trust that lets the river give itself to the sea not knowing if its name will survive the salt.. that lets the moon surrender to darkness certain the sun will one day find her.. that sends roots downward into what they cannot see sure the unseen will answer.. that carries the wind to rest against the mountain knowing the stone will not turn away..!? Isn’t it trust this primal covenant beneath all motion where yin carries a fragment of yang and yang holds the shadow of yin each completing the other without asking to be assured..!? ©”

“Way up in the mountains Sea level too far to be seen The clouds mask civilization below People replaced by a sea of green. Peace falls down from heaven In the form of a cleansing rain The trees could tell endless stories If you knew how to hear what they’re saying. An ocean of gray spills out below Walk on it if you dare to drown Its tendrils reach out and the waves crash But it all happens without a sound. Above the clouds, below the stars No money here, but endless wealth Inward is the hardest adventure of all Come above the clouds and find yourself.”

“Wicklow's Bounty: Ode to the Irish Strawberry by Stewart Stafford The Garden County's ruby hue; Juicy gush with tart aftertaste, Seeded cream teases the palate, A Summer afternoon without haste. Eireann's pride swallowed so well; Sunburst flesh, chilled bitterness, Enveloped in richest dairy pillows, Feel the divine fingerprint finesse. Amass nature's brief treasures, Don't wait, dear brother/sister, Before frosted breath chokes, Turning land's song into a whisper. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“Morning's Serenade by Stewart Stafford Stirred by a magpie's auction bids, I opened up our curtained eyelids, To pale dawn's reverential blinking, Beyond my lady's distant inkling. Anointed by the infant sun's rays, I stand in regal morning’s praise; Surveying virgin domain’s expanse, Before the hatchling public dance. The early-risen owl hoots carried far, The songbirds played off fading stars, Cockcrow drew in a loping red fox, Scattering fawns and sheep flocks. My lady spent, sports a drowsy crown, Her chest rises, then slowly down, Cityscape visions to last night's desire, Golden tresses tossed in oriole fire. To the kitchen, a connoisseur's start, A lover's labour, a chef's work of art, Crack avian treasures, new life's motif. Ground coffee, perfumed weekend relief. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”

“Beachcomber by Stewart Stafford Sundial straight, I strode onshore, Waves pulsing like a foetal lullaby, Canine companion nestling my knee, A chef's kiss-of-life breathing space. Looking glass shimmer at the cliff's base, Tranquility’s wellspring beneath my feet, Sanctum of meditation, a paused life retreat, My seagull eyewitnesses hovering above. The seclusion sought yielded rewards, A hit of joie de vivre in its purest form, The sky’s spotlight and the humid wind, Senses alive with the lapping, busy tide. Nascent cloud veils gather at magic hour, Amber inferno, foretaste of paradise, Welcomed, savoured, and appreciated, Driftwood floating home on sunset waters. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“The Watery Cosmos by Stewart Stafford O realm of Poseidon, Dura Mater of all hidden - Salty soup of subtle plankton, And breaching whales unbidden. O friendly ocean, Looking glass of sky steep - Shooting stars bioluminescent Whirlpool galaxies of the deep. This savage playground, Cradling hurricane fury, The birthing pool of the living, A submerged mass cemetery. As light fades fast above, So a lunar-dark seabed rears up, Slowly enveloping all and sundry, Surface in a seahorse stirrup. Seeds from the Amazon, Passengers of the Atlantic Conveyor, Nestling on English coasts Gifts of an aquatic purveyor. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“I feel you calling, in the autumn sweet transformation. I have reached my brightest green to the gold burning sun. I have folded my colours into the wind, bright colours taken to the sky. My silk has gone to moisture in the rising atmosphere and I am your colours again, deep and warm. I hear your calling and I answer, I come back to you, to slip inside the dark. Will I be found by the decaying things? Will I be found by the roots and drunk by tree and flower? Will I slip and mingle and roll along, find my way to a river and with it dance, and give myself in a sigh to the ocean? Will I scatter, a few fragments of sand – my body to glisten beneath a caress of moonlight as I make my way towards no more as I find my way to forever”

“The Birnam Oak by Stewart Stafford Medieval guardian, limpet oak, Reinforced branches, sunlit soak, Gnarled limbs in supplicant pose, A statuesque deity in thorny repose. Set up tent 'neath a canopy deep, Where my pilgrim forbears sleep, Midges swarming campfire's glow, And drowsy me, to slumber go. May roots prosper far from sight, Defying storm, flame, chainsaw's bite, Give verdant breath to creation's plan. Until Earth falls from human hand. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“The Reaper's Harvest by Stewart Stafford Vast underworld gates open on Samhain night, The grail Sun winters there, in paling sight. Unquiet spirits swarm forth in feral misprision, Trick-or-treat landlords knock in spectral vision. Autumn, perennially-early to Death's season, Winter's welcome overstayed in icy reason. Spring's distant wave thrills in emerging seed, Summer's blush in full alignment decreed. Snowflake to blossom, and greenery to withering; As effigy reminders of cyclical dithering, Seasonal standing stones sink to shifting sands, Saplings of the forest’s new strength, in nature’s hands. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“In Green Grandeur by Stewart Stafford Under towers of green pillars, Grow those leafed palaces, Stretching out their tall limbs, Up skyward in thanksgiving. Saplings with peacock foliage, A forest floor carpeted thickly, With dead leaves, kindling and, Subterranean roots peeking out. Storm-crooked trunks stooping, To the lightning-shattered bows, Fingers of dying sunlight reach, To caress the ivy-entwined bark. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”

“But the flower can be no other. And in its natural state, it is fragile. It is vulnerable within a dangerous environment. However, despite its fragility and vulnerability, it continues to flourish throughout nature. Its seeds move in ways that can't be controlled and it grows fields of flowers.”

“A Brief Awakening In the vastness of the out-rushing cosmos, you are but tiny—a warm and pulsing spark. Against all odds, your birth a brief awakening from silent eons spent sleeping in the dark. When you feel your heart swell with wild wonder at the dazzling diamond chandeliers of night, know your body was built from ancient stardust and the universe now sees through your eyes. So let the breath of sweet gratitude fill you, as the light of each new day begins. For this moment itself is a miracle, and to live it is your privilege my friend.”

“A Magic Hour’s Dreaming by Stewart Stafford Is there a sight more fair than wheaten fields, Awaiting the sun's ambush to potently ignite? Colour vibrates beyond the eye revealed, To live, dance and breathe in honeyed light. Nature’s palette, painted hues so bright, Invites the bees to sip and man to dream, Of engineered art, dazzling to the sight, Authored lightning in a celestial seam. The creator’s canvas, mint beyond decay, Invites the inner child to replenish at source, Where Nature’s staff casts shadows away, Friendships bond as a trickling stream's course. An eyeblink flash carved in history's tree, Treasured riches pooled of those by our side. For in sepia’s sunflower memory, We court the hand of an agreeable bride. Fading birdsong underscores this bottled time, In butterfly hearts, the hourglass stilled sublime. Autumn's leaves, ochre embers, curtsied fall, Farewell Summer, until roused in New Year's call. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“God's Grand Weather Machine by Stewart Stafford Some say: 'Send storm clouds back to sender; Into God's omnipotent weather machine.' Let them come, I say, and cleanse me, Reborn for the second time as a teen. Improvising with nature's gifted props; Perspective in motion, despite the scene, To go without sleep for fear of nightmares? Insomniac strike - we're dreamers, not the dream. Skies beyond our grasp caress down; As raindrop punctuation marks careen, Spin your watery partner on the floor, Absent of weather critics venting spleen. Thunderous applause greets our every move, Hoping lightning's ovation strikes the forest trees. We shuffle and shimmy as sky spray slicks steps, Dancing to judges' scorecards of degrees. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”