Tag Archives: poems about nature

Respite by Carla Martin-Wood

Deep in the sugar-blossomed orchard
spring catches in the throat of each bloom
pink with nectar promises

heavy with buzz of bees
dreaming honey-laden fruit to come
this ancient cherry tree
beckons with shade
a dusty wanderer who

turns from roadside Jiffy Mart
leaves billboard clutter
and afternoon sales calls behind
climbs the paint-peeled fence
that separates this holy of holies
from hum and drum of market-
driven life

to lie beneath the timeless flutter
of branch and bower and bee
to relish vague, familiar longings
for childhood’s stolen cherry-
pleasured afternoons.


To read Carla’s bio and more of her poetry on WIZ, go here, here, and here.

*contest entry*

Homecoming by Carla Martin-Wood

The air is a-buzz with wings
bird to butterfly
bee to dragonfly
flit, fly and flutter by

cherry trees lifting petticoats to heaven
full-blossomed defiance
caught mid-cartwheel
kicking up chaos
in can-can regalia
long-limbed show-offs
in ruffles and bloomers
late and early
daffodils and Japanese magnolia
crocus and iris and tulips cover places
old winter (that cold-handed lover)
has relinquished at last
bright spindled forsythia
lilies and redbud
double flowering peach
too much is not enough

this is earth in an Easter dress

and all because Persephone
called ahead to say
Mama – I’m comin’ home!


Four times nominated for The Pushcart Prize, Carla Martin-Wood is the author of the recently released Songs from the Web (encore), as well as One Flew East, Flight Risk and How we are loved, all full-length collections of her poetry (Fortunate Childe Publications). She has authored seven chapbooks: Songs from the Web (Bitter Wine Press); Garden of Regret and Redheaded Stepchild (both Pudding House Chapbook Series); Feed Sack Majesty, HerStory, and The Last Magick (all Fortunate Childe Publications); and Absinthe & Valentines (Flutter Press). Carla’s work also appears in the following anthologies:  Love Poems & Other Messages for Bruce Springsteen and Casting the Nines (both Pudding House Publications); Lilith: a collection of women’s writes and Postcards from Eve (both Fortunate Childe Publications); and From the Front Porch (Silver Boomer Books). Her work has appeared in a plethora of journals in the US, England, and Ireland since 1978. She was recently nominated by Flutter Poetry Journal for Best of the Net 2010. Carla is listed in the Poets & Writers Directory at www.pw.org. To see more of Carla’s poetry on WIZ go here and here.

“Homecoming” was previously published in Leaf Garden Press.

*contest entry*

How we are loved by Carla Martin-Wood


1 John 4:16

What the river knows, it keeps
beneath ephemera of foam,
far below pull of eddies and currents,
beneath its bed
and into its cold dark heart,
though from the watershed
we can see

how it harbors fish and lamprey,
feeds swallow and raven,
slakes thirst of sheep and wolf,
all haphazard,

how it floods thirsty fields,
or careless withers into a parched arroyo,

how it goes where it wants,
demanding and turbulent,
carves through mountains,
erodes barren rock to fertile silt,

how it tumbles jagged stones
through rapids and waterfalls,
drags them indifferent
through its warehouse
of lost oars, empty nets, abandoned relics,
how it brutalizes every pebble
to polished perfection,

how it moves eternally
all things within it
to the same sea.


“How we are loved” was originally published in How we are loved (Fortunate Childe Publications, 2010).

For Carla’s bio and another poem published on WIZ, go here.

Every Step I Take by Gabriel Aresti Jr.

movili resized (click into for larger view)

Five hours feeling happiness
I have been walking for five hours.
I got off the subway five hours ago.
I kept on walking with the city on my back
Streets becoming tracks
Tracks becoming old dry creeks
Creeks steep
Climbing to the top of one
Then making my way back
Five hours feeling happiness.
Five hours getting numb
Five hours leaving real life down there in the map
Five hours out of frame.
I have been walking for five hours.

Five minutes ago I realized I was coming back.
I began counting my steps.
I stopped humming songs.
I’m sweating no more.

I’m feeling heavy.
I’m crippled.
I stop.
My feet on the dirty ground.
I count to five.
I start crying.
Nobody is around.
I’m alone.
I’m listening to the empty brilliance of my own existence.
I’m feeling little.
I’m alone.
I can’t stop crying.
My bones are cracking down.
The wind keeps swaying me.
The track keeps waiting for me.
I count to five.
I stop crying.
Nobody is around.
I trigger my boots.

Five hours feeling happiness.


For Gabriel’s bio and more of his poetry go here.

Mountalogue by Gabriel Aresti Jr.

800px-Tajo_de_la_Caína by "por los caminos de Malaga"

I know this sounds stupid but but
I can’t help it
It is good for my health
My mental health
You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?

The range goes deep into the horizon
It’s been snowing for days
I’m cold comfortable cold
Nobody was coming on the track
It was only me
White to both my sides
White front
White back
I keep following the track
I keep seeking the range.

You hear me I know that
And nobody is here around
It’s only me and you
And I know you’re just a mount
But I need to talk to the mounts
Mount, can you hear me?
You hear me.
Do you hear me?
I’m getting nuts, you mount,
I need you, you mount,

I keep following the track
I keep seeking the range
I’m feeling cold comfortable cold
It hurts
I need it to hurt
I’m getting nuts
I need you mount
I need to escape, I need to fall
I need to disappear, I need your help.

I take my cell phone from my pocket
Mount? Are you there?
I won’t be able to get to you
Whiteness is blinding me
I feel good
I’m getting nuts.
Can you hear me, mount?


Gabriel Aresti Jr. is the pen name of Ángel Chaparro Sainz.  Ángel was born in Barakaldo, Basque Country, northeastern Spain around 1976. Currently, he is a professor of English at the University of the Basque Country where he has been teaching literature, poetry and history as well. Some of his short stories have been published in Deia newspaper and some other anthologies after being winners of contest such as Villa de Gordexola, Ciudad de Eibar or Ortzadar–all of them in the Basque Country.

To see more of Gabriel’s poetry published previously on WIZ, go here, here, here, here.

Coulee View by Jonathon Penny

Coulee_1 by Jonathon Penny (cropped)

Keep your craggy, up-thrust mountain peaks!
Your chasms and your cliffsides roughly made
From clattering and shattering of plates
In the devil’s galley by some shade!

I’ll have my soft-edged tinder coulee view,
Tan and green, and gently, supply formed
Like mother earth was always thought to be:
Green-crowned, or seascape prairie grass adorned,

Our traces nestled, sheltered, on her knee.
There’s hope in views like this:
Earth murmurs lullabies into our ears,
And gives its babes a matriarchal kiss.


For Jonathon’s bio and other poems published on WIZ, go here, here, and here.

Desert Song by Jonathon Penny


Remember wild, ungardened greens?
Dark mulchy woods of unkempt trees?
That broad, telestial paradise
Of birds and bugs and field mice?

Remember snows of varied hues?
High drifts? spring thaws? fat summer dews?
And fragrant, flatland buzzing air?
Paint-palette, musty harvest fare?

We’ve none of those in this dry place
Where seasons are a figment of degrees
And landmarks fickle as a ninja bride:
Trembling within, inscrutable outside.

But still, this scorpion desert stretch,
This single-seasoned wasteland planet’s kvetch,
This Godful bare and burning arm,
This empty quarter has its vagrant charm:

For one, it’s always warm.


Jonathon Penny took his MA in Renaissance literature at BYU and his PhD in 20th Century British literature from the University of Ottawa. He has taught at universities in the U.S. and Canada, and now lives with his family in Al Ain, United Arab Emirates where he is Assistant Professor of English at UAE University. He has published on Wyndham Lewis and apocalyptic literature, and is currently at work on several books of poetry for precocious pipsqueaks under the penname “Professor Percival P. Pennywhistle.” Bits and pieces may be found here. In addition to those he has published on WIZ, he has grown-up poems forthcoming in Dialogue and with Peculiar Pages Press.

For more of Jonathon’s poems on WIZ go here, here, and here.

Winterscape: Prairie by Jonathon Penny

Photo taken by Nasa's Aqua Satellite March 4, 2010

Fallow soil, windblown, is a rigid latticework
Pressed hard against patchwork fields etched with snow.

A river, drawn amblingly, God’s Hancock doodle,
Flows its cursive way across the whole.

Jealous of its motion, frozen lakes and ponds
Lie low and sullen in their teardrop bowls.


More from Jonathon here and here.

The soil’s the earth’s best mother by Jonathon Penny

Soil4--Castelnuovo di Farfa, Italy resized (click into for larger view)

The soil’s the earth’s best mother;
Old songs its virile seed
Planted by wind and weather,
Each grown by craft and need.

The soil’s the earth’s best mother:
Each plant a green refrain
Written by a poet father,
And harvested again.


Photo by Jonathon Penny.

For more poetry by Jonathon and his bio click here.

Leave them lie, these leaves by Jonathon Penny

Photo by Jonathon Penny

Leave them lie, these leaves,
Beneath the snow;
Let leaf lead on to leaf in Nature’s way.

Let daylight run its course,
Then let it go;
Let grief lead on to grief, night lead to day.


Jonathon Penny took his MA in Renaissance literature at BYU and his PhD in 20th Century British literature from the University of Ottawa. He has taught at universities in the U.S. and Canada, and now lives with his family in Al Ain, United Arab Emirates where he is Assistant Professor of English at UAE University. He has published on Wyndham Lewis and apocalyptic literature, and is currently at work on several books of poetry for precocious pipsqueaks. He turns the a/c off when it’s practical, keeps the rpms below 3000, and walks where and when the weather allows.

Photo of leaves by Jonathon Penny.