Tag Archives: Nature poetry

One Leg Up by A. J. Huffman

800px-Pink_Flamingo_@_Temaikén

Flamingos frolic in the surfless still of the sea
side morning’s pastoral.  Limbs and feathers
paint a fantastical fan, this stretching before the sun.
The water dopples,
dolloped with pink reflections.  A mirror
ed magic, reflexive of another dimension.  Alien
in pastel tones of aggressive softness, they
adamantly defend their rights
to this dance.

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To read more poetry by Huffman, go here, here, and here.

Photo by LonghornDave via Wikimedia Commons Images.

The Gardener Finds Out Death by Adam G

800px-Apple_trees_covered_with_ice

In Spring the gardener finds out death–
What fruit tree limbs did not overwinter.
Some stems twig and bud and bloom,
Some stems splinter.

I lost a limb some seasons back
From my own flesh–my firstborn daughter.
Time healed the break, but I still lack
The apples of her laughter.

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Adam lives with his wife and children in central New Mexico near the ranch his great-grandfather lost in the Great Depression. He is a member of the www.jrganymede.com blog.His oldest daughter, Betsey Pearl, died of cancer in the spring of 2005.

An Ode to Coal by Lee Allred

FIRST_SHIFT_OF_MINERS_AT_THE_VIRGINIA-POCAHONTAS_COAL_COMPANY_MINE_^4_NEAR_RICHLANDS,_VIRGINIA,_LEAVING_THE_ELEVATOR...._-_NARA_-_556393

Black seams skitter
Through mantled rock,
Crisscrossing mountains.
Encrusted veins of blackened heart
Hide within its poisoning death
Until exhumed by grave diggers,
Faces black with toil-worn greed.
 
Black smoke bellows
In high desert air,
Seeding clouds.
Sooted walls of blackened lung
Hide within its poisoning death
Until exhaled by grave fillers,
Faces white with aged fate.
 
Infant heart struggles
Within plastic tent
As bellowed tubes and gauges pump
And beat louder than Death’s blackened wing.
Piston-power cremation-called
Hides within its poisoning death
Until excised by wondrous grave emptiers,
Faces pink with reborn life.

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Lee Allred lives alone in a small gray house on headlands overlooking the windswept Oregon Coast. Lee has lived and travelled extensively across the globe. He is a professional fiction writer and much of his published work incorporates poetry—lines from the classics and lines from his own.

Photo by Jack Corn, 1974, via Wikimedia Commons: “First shift of miners at the Virginia Pocahontas Coal Company Mine #4 near Richlands, Virginia, leaving the elevator.”

Crocodiles by A.J. Huffman

Crocodiles backup2

At first it could be any shore.
Rocky
and a little dark maybe,
but still intriguing.
Then a flash of green
throws your eyes off center.
Then another.
Until the ground you were about to walk
is walking for you.
Is waiting for you.
With a million teeth
hidden
in a permanent smile.

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A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida.  She has previously published six collections of poetry all available on Amazon.com.  She has also published her work in numerous national and international literary journals. Most recently, she has accepted the position as editor for four online poetry journals published by Kind of a Hurricane Press. You can read more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work. Huffman has published with WIZ previously.

Photo credit: A.J. Huffman, Orange County, FL, January 2013.

Pastoral by Jeremiah Burrow

vt ruin

Against an autumn background
I fall again
into pastures not mine,
dispossessed.

Through young woods I walk
(the old giants have all been felled)
and grow tired;
the footpath is overgrown

and hard to keep.
I stop and rest
upon an old pasture wall—
where are the sheep, the range?

I am this stone wall,
piece-worn by century and half again
of trespass and weathers,
fallen to ruin.

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Jeremiah Burrow writes from Vermont where he is busy getting Stone Cairn Press off the ground. Check out the recent call for submissions. Burrow has published at WIZ, among other places, and more of Jeremiah’s poems are forthcoming next month at Four and Twenty: Short Form Poetry.

Cicada by Will Reger

800px-Ants_eating_cicada,_jjron_22.11.2009

Cicada settles on the sidewalk
to wait the final embrace of
opossum’s maw or
the sweet reduction of ants.
The bulging eyes
fold in on themselves,
arthritic death clenches
once nimble wings, and
beetles rush to sip
the cooling ichor of life,
while dragonflies above
dance the wake.
And I walk by and by and by,
still humming the spiraling
summer song,
the siren call,
the joyous scream,
made agony in the short
pinch
of time.

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Will Reger was born and raised in the St. Louis, Missouri area. He has a Ph.D. in History from the University of Illinois and currently teaches history at Illinois State University. He lives in Champaign, Illinois, with his wife and two youngest children. He began writing poetry in the 7th grade and never quite stopped. He also plays the Native American Flute. He has recently had poems published in Fire in the Pasture and songs/cycles (and, of course, here on WIZ).

Photo credit: John O’Neill, via Wikimedia Commons.

Berry Picking by Will Reger

Lewis Collard--"Blackberries, ripe and unripe"

These are the woods
Where my mother played,
Her playhouse—an outline of
Stones on the ground.
Beside the creek
Her father gardened, 
But the water rose
And spread his seeds 
Among the trees.
Summer was the time
For berry picking.
We each took a bucket,
Walked into the woods
And filled it with berries.
The aunts said, “Don’t pick
The unripe berries,
The rosy green ones,
The color of dawn:
Pick the ripe ones,
Black as hell,
Full of the sun
And ready to explode.”
At the edge of the woods
A castle of canes,
Curving thorns
As sharp as shark’s teeth
Kept us out,
But Grandma’s dog,
An arthritic hound,
His black coat sleek
And hot from the sun
Bayed at some creature and
Shambled after it
Into the thicket.
Above, two eagles
Breasted the wind
Like knives at the ready,
Their scything shadows
Swept across us.
All of this happened,
Nothing remarkable:
But memory sanctifies
Lost moments like this, 
This day of picking
Berries, this day
Of eating fat berries
Till the juice fills our veins.

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Will Reger has contributed several poems to WIZ. You can find his bio here.

Photo by Lewis Collard via Wikimedia Commons.