Posts tagged Poetry

“This Compost” by Walt Whitman

Naturally Green Blog is celebrating National Poetry Month. What a better way than with a Walt Whitman poem. Enjoy!

This Compost

Behold this compost! behold it well!
Perhaps every mite has once form’d part of a sick person-Yet behold!
The grass of spring covers the prairies,
The bean bursts noislessly through the mould in the garden,
The delicate spear of the onion pierces upward,
The apple-buds cluster together on the apple-branches,
The resurrection of the wheat appears with pale visage out of its graves,
The tinge awakes over the willow-tree and the mulberry-tree,
The he-birds carol mornings and evenings, while the she-birds sit on their nests,
The young of poultry break through the hatch’d eggs,
The new-born of animals appear-the calf is dropt from the cow, the colt from the mare,
Out of its little hill faithfully rise the potato’s dark green leaves,
Out of its hill rises the yellow maize-stalk-the lilacs bloom in the door-yards,
The summer growth is innocent and disdainful above all those strata of sour dead.

-Walt Whitman, from the poem “This Compost”

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When I Am Among the Trees by Mary Oliver

April is National Poetry Month and if you are like me, that’s a good thing. No cards to buy, no presents to send, just wonderful words placed together that evoke a variety of feelings and emotions. I love to share poems about nature so that we are reminded of why we are eco-friendly, eco-passionate, eco-extraordinary and so on. Often, I’ve sat among the trees and they too have saved me, inspired me to write, sing and just simply shine. I am especially fond of the willows as they tell me secrets of all things wild and free.

Here is poem by the lovely Mary Oliver from her collection — Thirst

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.


I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say.
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

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Fog Bewilders

Joseph Massey lives in the beautifully foggy Humboldt County (California) and it is this exquisite place that has inspired this collection of wonderful poems entitled Areas of Fog (Shearsman Books, 2009). Here is one that I am particularly fond of.

Arcata Marsh
by Joseph Massey

Mudscape—tide’s out—
out as far as fog gives sight.

Peripherry-flecked,
organe-white
lichen latched to limbs

I thought were your
fingers—

your face turned
back by wind.

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One of my favorite poems about the great Mother

WHAT I DID ON A RAINY DAY
by May Swenson

Breathed the fog from the valley
Inhaled its ether fumes
With whittling eyes peeled the hills
to their own blue and bone
Swallowed piercing pellets of rain
caught cloudsful in one colorless cup
Exhaling stung the earth with sunlight
struck leaf and bristle to green fire
Turned tree trunks to gleaming pillars
and twigs to golden nails
With one breath taken into the coils
of my blood and given again when vibrant
I showed who’s god around here

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