30 Poems in 30 Days 2009: Day Twenty-Six
September 26, 2009 by John Hewitt
Nature is one of the oldest and most persistent themes in poetry. There are many poetry forms that are specifically for meditating on and commenting about nature, such as the Pastoral and the Eclogue. It is an ancient topic, but one that remains relevant even in contemporary times. Today’s nature poems are often about the destruction of nature at the hands of society. Even this is not a particularly new theme, but because of such fears as global warming, it remains a popular and relevant thee. Here are a few things to remember when writing about nature.
- Because it is an old and established theme, it is hard to be fully original when writing about it. The key is just to find your own voice and personal attitude about nature and be sure that your writing reflects that voice.
- When writing about nature, it is a good idea to go outside and actually take part in the world of nature. Go to a park. Go to the beach. Go to the mountains. Go to nature.
- One of the most straightforward ways to write about nature is to write about what you observe. Describe what you see. You do not have to judge what you see for your poem to be good. You are certainly welcome to do so, but it isn’t a requirement.
- Take your time. A few minutes of quiet observation can do wonders. If you are content to observe, your words will eventually come.
Today’s Poetry Prompt
Write a poem about a natural event.
Loner Cloud
The cloud slides down
Half of it below the other
Spears and spikes from falling pressure
In white tracks against the sky
Otherwise blue
And ready to crush the eyes
With the intense clarity of it
Except of course
For this odd
Metamorphous cloud
Ready to approach new challenges
Unafraid to disturb clarity
Related links
- 30 Poems in 30 Days (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: Why you should write poetry (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: Writing About Yourself (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: Writing About Issues (1.000)
- 30 Poems in 30 Days: Poetry of Place (1.000)
Contact John Hewitt
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Email: hewitt@poewar.comPhone: (520) 261-6104
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I stumbled upon this site today; happenstance? I think not. I am working on a collaborative poetry project and so far, the lines have a lot to do with autumn imagery. Here are the lines posted so far:
With eyes closed and autumn breezes kissing my cheeks
Tendrils of a daydream my mind now seeks
As I walk on leaves that crackle and pop to the beat of my heart
I return to a time of my youth
With eyes closed I breathe in the cool fall air
Fill my lungs with crisp golden sunshine
When it rained leaves today
The wind delightedly came out to play
The tendrils and breeze fill my heart with the love of life
The faint sound of children laughing in the distance is heard
I dreamt of the day when my wish came true
Arms outstretched, laughter echoing in my soul
I dream of my summers past with joy
Golden sunlight reflects through the tree boughs revealing an umbrella of color
Red, gold, orange, brown, golden colors a feast for my hungry eyes
I bask in the joy of the sunrise each day
Please feel free to post your line at http://www.squidoo.com/thepoetryconnection
.-= Jenny Miller´s last blog ..It Just Gets Better and Better =-.
Starlight
Beneath the shining stars
We sat
Hoping to find our way
Into the night
We stayed
Gazing upon the winking lights
The diamonds in the sky
Was so bright
I was dazzled by the light
How small we felt
Underneath the beams of lights
Trying but failing to reach starlight
I was lost in the lights
Until I heard
Your whisper by my ears
How wonderful the stars are
When you are here.
The rain has stopped singing and tumbling
Down the leaves
Spring nights this year
Are cool and numbing to the hands
As we try to rake away debris
From our doors and ready ourselves
For a hint of sunshine
I watch the sky with practiced eyes
Folded knees, folded heart, but an open mind
An accordion without the air that gives it meaning
Limp on the steps to my house, not ready to go inside
The sky is seamless, blank paper
Dropped in a bucket of water
And turned to soggy pulp, useless
Still, I don’t look away, others might
Out of boredom, or lack of faith. Their choice.
As night starts to pull the light away
The clouds coalesce
I can see the gaps now,
It gives the whole picture greater strength
As trouble defines my sight
And there’s more to this sky, than others might think
I know there’s darkness beneath it,
Small lights too, flickering at a distance,
Christmas you know will come eventually,
but not anytime soon enough
I’m getting colder, but there’s more to life
Than easy contentments, so I remain
To see how the sunset, somewhere behind all this,
Shows new shape within this evanescent nascent sky
Poised for purpose, even if it doesn’t quite have it yet
It has happened in the darkness of the day, this change,
When nobody was watching, it seemed
Amid all the bustle of sunlight somewhere
And alarms being set, minds already on tomorrow,
No one is glad for it, and nothing is permanent, but this cloud
Is different
And I know. I know that cloud.
I have been watching inside and out
In this starry, frostburst air
I collect my thoughts about me like a cloak
And ward away the night and find the peace
That hides within it
Glad to have found a mirror in the sky
The Presence of the Observer
Changes What’s Being Observed
I start my walk to the shops.
Few people along this village road.
A toddler, pushed in a stroller,
spies me going past the other way,
cocks her finger at me and gurgles.
She changes me. I fill with smiles,
waggling my hand back at her,
exchanging grins with her mother.
She changes us all, and
changes our interactions.
I take the upper path, above
trees and river – almost step
on a flattened cane toad
some driver didn’t miss. Think
of the handsome goanna
sprawled across half the road
the other day, his proud head up.
Luckily no traffic there.
I tooted, swerved and missed.
He took off into the bush.
Next day my sleek black hunter
nosed at an open drawer.
I thought he was trying to climb in
(he likes cubby-holes, that cat)
but later he brought out on to the floor
the upturned white-bellied body
of a small lizard, dead.
I wondered then,
does Nature demand
a life lost for a life saved?
I contemplate, too, the woman
who shares her space with wombats.
“They think so differently
about the world,” she says,
finding that charming. “We forget,”
she adds, “That we are animals too.”
I am an event in nature,
like a wombat or goanna.
I am an agent of change,
like introduced cats and toads.