20 Poems of Nature

David Holt
20 Poems of Nature

The nature poems They are quite common, the natural world has been one of the recurring themes in poetry. It is often the primary theme in each era and in each country.

Poets like to describe the natural world; its varied landscapes, the changing seasons and the phenomena that surround it, among others, have been an important part of the history of poetry.

Here is a list of these types of poems:

- Talk about the sea (free poem)

Talking about you, it was always easy,

you came to me with your waves to walk my dreams,

to salpress my soul to lengthen the days,

all blue, all owner, all water everywhere,

an endless block of fish and coral.

Knowing your ways was simple,

to find you it was enough to go to the edge of the house,

and there you were, on every corner,

each cardinal point had you embroidered in the name,

that's why I didn't finish naming you.

The everyday

-the normal daily voice for those of us who knew you,

that we live you from the beginning-,

was talking about the sea.

- To the cornfield (tenths)

I see you from the house,

green, yellow, leafy,

I see you and I'm eager

of your fruit between the embers.

And it is that, with butter or fat,

be it cob, corn or corn

-any name-, it's your nuance,

your particular flavor,

How can I not love you

give the flake to the root?

How many peoples feed

thanks to your noble fruit?,

your power I do not dispute,

all good about you comment.

The grounds are well set

having you sown,

the plow becomes easy,

you are noble, oh cornfield,

of the world you are the salt,

her enchanted heart.

- To nature (redondillas)


You are noble green lady,

light of every being and thing,

you are in the river, in the rose,

in you the sight is lost.


Your paths teach us

about God and creation,

and it is that you are song

of all those who dream.


Go to meet you every day

allows to expand knowledge,

you are easy to love

and you always bring joy.


It's you nature,

air, land, sea and sky,

fire verse in which I fly,

royal root of wealth.


Don't give up, it always shines,

against the dirty I accompany you,

I will take good care of you every year,

on the land and on the shore.

- In the air (free poem)

You have become a habit,

obvious reason for respite,

invisible life that sneaks into me,

that runs from lung to blood

so that I can walk the paths that correspond to me.

Color of silence,

visit of the breath of God in beings,

when I no longer look for you it will be everything,

the fog will be the path and I will be the fog,

and there will be no reason or body,

and I will become one with the whole,

and it will be you and me in the corner of the spaces,


- To the earth (free poem)

If I sowed in you, I would understand the life that you keep,

could be spice from tibet,

a grain of immortal Spain,

an Apple Tree from Patagonia,

some fruit that arises from your pact with the sun and the water.

If i were worm,

the world would walk you,

I would look for your most hidden secrets in the minerals,

I would try to understand the artifice of coal and diamond,

I would try everything to know where God got you man,

and where is the soul of the plants hidden from you.

Say your name,


is daring to much and not knowing everything.

- To the fire (free poem)

You boil him to the inland,

heart of stones,

cloud secret to cry water,

invisible cloak of the sun.

When you came,

the night was the custom,

the raw the usual food,

the cold reigned in all

and there was no room for anything but the trembling of blue and ice.

did you come,


to carve each hill,

every stone,

and make the rain gush,

and the seeds drew his body from the earth,

and they were called trees,

and the fruit fell later,

and man had you for god,

necessary and flaming fire.

- To the hare (free poem)

The coyote looks at you from afar,

the Lynx,

the leopard,

the man.

Everyone is looking for you to calm their hunger,

but you are cunning and fast,

and you know where the shadow is on the meadow,

you know every place where the sun does not shine.

You are agile,

wasteland hare,

white smile that jumps between the hills,

restless cloud everyone wants

and that hides underground to dawn when hunger calls,

and the young require green,

and life is fast,

you know,

and you have it.

- Sonnet to water

Without you man could do nothing

you are crystalline jewel of life

that thirst calms me, the body takes care of me,

and safeguard my being from dying.

Of the elements, you are power,

liquid treasure to the one who asks for it,

your sweet attribute nests in the blood,

spring that helps to strengthen.

Don't stop sprouting your light from the sky,

nor leave the sad earth deep,

that men are waiting for you on the ground.

Only you gave nature,

water, your divine soul in blue flight,

in rain that everything loves and in good persists.

- To the cloud (quatrains)


You come and go, white and gray,

winged sky breath,

you open your coffers to the ground

giving water on the plow.


Sponge you are in the height,

joyful shadow to the walker,

pure dream that heals me,

dim dancing figure.


The rain you give to the plants

so they can grow,

they are holy tears

how deep sprout from your being.


Children always look for you

to guess figures,

you go, you change, with two winks,

transforming you into madness.


Beautiful cloud, beautiful cloud,

never stop being,

it always rains on the rose,

on land, and in the sea.

- In the sun (tenths)


You get up very early,

and the morning comes to you,

in your light everything is won,

divine sun, friend, brother.

Thanks for reaching out

and give us clarity

to all mankind,

every hour, every day,

you light up with joy

in any darkness.


What would it be, sun, of us

without your genuine glow?,

Without your pure and fine heat

that does not look like others?

The foals would be crazy,

and all the animals,

the kittens, the jackals,

the seagulls and the dogs,

we would not see the hills,

we would suffer a thousand evils.

- To the birds (limericks)


They are the owners of the skies,

angels on high,

they are majestic figures

that they fall in love with their flights

and they even cure madness.


They dance as they fly,

they fly as they dance,

on the landscape they launch,

they sneak into the look

and the heart reach.


Be seagulls, gannets,

or the peregrine falcons,

fine flying pheasants,

or the clever eagles,

how beautiful are their trills.


See them tame the wind high

invites to reflexion,

gives my pen inspiration,

to capture what I feel,

cheering the heart.

- To the fish (leaflets)


They fly underwater,

they are dancing in the border,

his joy has no end,

they don't stop for a second;

their fins never cease

to swim from one side to the other,

they have strength like a colt,

owners are from the deep sea.


There are in rivers, lakes, seas,

they are even found in dreams,

large, medium and small,

amazing colors;

their forms also vary,

fat, skinny, flattened,

abound everywhere,

even in muddy soils.

- To the flowers (free poem)

The light dances between its petals, bathing the world in color;

the way,


she covers herself with beauty with just one.

His presence is cause for joys and longings,

they are when life visits,

also when it leaves,

they are where the wounded man complains,

where love sprouts,

between the pavement,

on the moldy walls,

and each one of them,

each tiny figure,

give reason,

for moments,

to the life.

Your stay is short,

but the meaning of your step can be as sublime as the greatest feeling,

it all depends on the man,

from the eye that looks at her,

of the heart that with them surrenders.

- To the night and to the day (tenths)

You give reason to the moon,

dark and silent night,

your presence goes and sits

in the mountains and in the dune.

Like you, there's no one,

your mystery inspires man,

there is not a day that does not surprise

the feeling that you have arrived

and that you have filled everything

with the black of your name.


You are the clarity

of the world and its confines,

you come with golden mane

and light humanity.

Every town and city

owes you the glow,

also the pure candor

what are you toast, beloved day,

you are light and joy,

offering of great love.

- To the trees (free poem)

Green lung,

lung of my land,

deep root with which the Pachamama breathes,


Thank you.

Dense gods,


lined trunks that give reason to the forest;

houses of leaves that shelter so much life,

veins of the world,

Thank you.

They are owed the pure air,

the poet's blade,

the shadow in which man rests from work,

and the boy,

and the woman,

and the animal;

they are owed the fruit and the nourishment of the food,

the existence of every living being,

infinite thanks for being.

I would like to honor you as it should,

from root to crown,

each branch woven,

each folded moss ...

The day the last one leaves,

there will be nothing,

and many do not understand,

And maybe when they do it will be too late.

- To the mountains (tenths)


Immemorial giants

of elegant and noble green,

the sight in them is lost,

in their heavenly forms.

Holy grails spring from them,

rivers full of riches,

They are the queens, they are highnesses

of the earth entirely,

how beautiful it is to see first

when waking up its beauties.


They are crown in landscapes

of the peoples of the world,

sprouted from the deep

with its very firm anchors.

Mountains of the places,

thanks for giving sustenance,

for taking care of the strong wind,

we owe them shelter,

give shelter to the father, the son,

sorry for the bad, sorry.

- To the rain (limericks)


With you life comes

to the desert before lost,

crying from the sky on,

smile that waters everything

and cheers the driest nest.


You are born in the sea, the river,

or the lake when the sun hits

and with its rays unfolds

heat, warding off the cold:

the steam goes and reaches the sky.


For you the seed sprouts,

the cow quenches the thirst,

thank you rain for you,

for every liquid drop

that endows the soil with life.

- To the stones (free poem)

Founding element,

nations rise above you;

firm substance,

skeleton of the earth,

single block of the primeval house.

If I face you against yourself,

the spark arrives,

then the fire sprouts,

and the night was solved,

and the stomach will no longer sleep empty.

If I put you on yourself,

a wall rises,

and another, and another, and another,

the palm comes and covers from the rain,

and then we have shelter and rest.

If I take you and give you an edge,

I have to hunt and feed,

and make dresses

and other things.

Stone, foundational element,

the man appreciates your presence.

- To nature (redondillas)


Green lady decking

every place on the planet,

in every space, every crack,

your presence always flows.


You are a mother, Pachamama,

sweet, attentive, understanding,

you are the living flame

to which life cries out.


For you the mountains happen,

the rivers, the skies, the seas,

all the holy altars,

since you bathe everything.


Nature, mystery

the stones keep your name,

secret you are for the man,

you and your vast vast empire.


Thank you for this existence,

Green lady, divine flower,

bird of light that trills

in each being and each essence.

- To salt (tenths)


From the sea, it is the heart

that beats deep in white foam,

and sneaks through the haze

giving the water its seasoning.

Came with an intention,

the flavor of life,

without it there is no need to ask

that tastes good and with pleasure,

your presence gives the fair,

the point to all food.


Sea or lagoon salt,

come out blessed are you for God,

and there are not two like you,

always good and timely.

There you are, from the cradle,

in our current blood,

in every dish present

pleasing the palate.

How can I not love you?,

If you are part of my people!

- La infinita, by Pablo Neruda

Do you see these hands? Have measured
the earth, they have separated
minerals and cereals,
they have made peace and war,
they have brought down the distances
of all seas and rivers,
and yet
how much they travel you
to you, little one,
grain of wheat, lark,
they do not reach to cover you,
get tired reaching
twin pigeons
that rest or fly on your chest,
they travel the distances of your legs,
they roll in the light of your waist.
For me you are the most loaded treasure
of immensity that the sea and its clusters
and you're white and blue and long like
the land in the vintage.
In that territory,
from your feet to your forehead,
walking, walking, walking,
I will spend my life.

- Nature, gentle mother of Emily Dickinson

It-the Most Gentle Mother -Nature.

No child irritates her-

The weakest or the most willful-

Your Gentle Warning-

Hey the traveler-in the forest-

On the hill

Talkative Bird or Rampant Squirrel-


On a Summer Afternoon-

In His House-when the Sun goes down-

Pleasant is His Talk-

Your company-

His voice in the hallway ignites

The Flower Prayer-

Shy-the prayer

Of the tiny cricket-

When all the Sons sleep-

She just walks away

To light His Lamps-

Suspended in the sky-

With love-

and infinite care-

His golden finger on her lip-

Orders-Everywhere-he Silence

- The Dark Thrush, by Thomas Hardy

Suddenly a voice arose from / the bare twigs above / in a passionate song of the evening / of boundless joy; / an old gray, weak, skinny and small / with feathers ruffled by the wind, / had decided to throw his soul / into the growing darkness./ What a small reason for Christmas carols / of such an ecstatic sound, / written about earthly things, / far or near, around, / that I could think that he was shaking / with his song of "happy Christmas Eve" / some blessed hope that he knew / and that I did not know. "

- The Road Through the Forest, by Rudyard Kipling

They closed the road through the forest

seventy years ago.

Bad weather, rain, they have erased it.

And now no one would say that once,

Before the trees took root, even,

there was a road here, through the forest.

It is under the heath and the anemones, 

the bushes cover it;

and only the old man saves

knows that, where the pigeons nest

and the badger stir, there was a way

that crossed the forest.

But if you go there

in summer, already late, when the air

the night cools in the ponds

where trout and otters swim

they call their partners without fear of men

that they have never seen,

you will hear -if you go there- the trot of a horse

and the brush of a skirt on the wet leaves

making way

through the dark, like

if they knew, they,

the path through the forest,

now that that path no longer exists

that crossed the forest.

- Poetry and Nature, by Kathleen Raine

To put in writing everything that I contain at this moment
I'd empty the desert through an hourglass,
the sea through an hourglass,
drop by drop and grain by grain
To the impenetrable, immeasurable seas and mutable sands released.

'Cause the days and nights of the earth crumble on me
the tides and the sands run through me,
and I only have two hands and one heart to hold the desert
and to the sea.

If it runs away and dodges me, what can I hold back?
The tides carry me away
the desert slides under my feet.

- To Autumn, by John Keats

Season of mists and fruitful seasons,
intimate collaborator of a sun that already matures,
conspiring with him how to fill with fruit
and bless the vines that run through the fences,
bend the orchard trees with apples
and fill all fruit with deep maturity;
pumpkin puffy and plump hazelnuts
with a sweet interior; you sprout late
and numerous flowers until the bees
hot days believe endless
because the summer overflows from their viscous cells.

Who has not seen you in the midst of your goods?
Whoever seeks you must find you
sitting carelessly in a barn
sweetly fanned hair,
or in a furrow not reaped sunk in deep sleep
sucking poppies, while your sickle respects
the next sheaf of intertwined flowers;
or do you stand firm like a gleaner
head loaded when crossing a stream,
or next to a winepress with a patient gaze
you see the last cider ooze hour after hour.

Where with its songs is spring?
Don't think about them anymore but about your own music.
When the day between clouds faints blooming
and dyes the stubble a pink hue,
What pitiful chorus the mosquitoes complain
In the willows of the river, raised, descending
as the slight wind rekindles or dies;
And the lambs swing over the hills,
the crickets in the hedge sing, and the robin
with a sweet tiple voice he whistles in some orchard
and flocks of swallows chirp through the skies.

- A Lesser Bird, by Robert Frost

I have wished that a bird would move away
With its monotonous song from the threshold of my house.

From the door I have clapped my hands
When I thought I couldn't take it anymore.

In part it must have been my fault.
The evil was not from the bird with its music.

And by the way there must be some mistake
In wanting to silence any song. 

- To a Mouse, by Robert Burns

A field mouse, being pulled from its burrow with a plow

Small, silky, fearful cornered beast What a great panic there is in your chest! You don't have to run away so fast, with so much fuss I don't mean to run after you with homicidal hoe. I really feel that the domain of man Has broken the pact that Nature establishes, and justify the wrong opinion What makes you look stunned poor fellow born of the earth. And equally deadly.  I do not doubt, however, that it is possible that you steal What does it matter, poor creature, you have to live! An occasional spike from a sheaf it's small pretense. I'll be content with the rest And I will not miss it! Of your little house, also in ruins, its fragile walls the winds scatter And there is, now, to build a new, Fresh cut grass! And the miserable December winds are coming, as severe as alive! You who saw the fields remain bare and barren And how the harsh winter was getting on And here, warm, safe from the storm You thought you would stay until the cruel peasant passed and tore your shelter.  That little pile of leaves and branches it had cost you a few grueling gnawing Now they've left you, after all your effort No home or home To endure the dripping downpours of winter And the cold morning dew.

- Ode to the apple (excerpt), by Pablo Neruda

To you apple,
I want
celebrate you
filling me
with your name
eating you.

you are new like nothing
or nobody,
just fallen
from Paradise:
and pure
flushed cheek
of the aurora!

- A Wind Came, by Emily Dickinson

A wind came like a bugle-

Among the grass it trembled

And a green chill on the burning

fell down so ominous

That we close windows and doors

To some kind of Emerald Ghost-

The Electric Moccasin of Hado

It happened at that precise moment-

In a strange run over of panting trees

The Walled Fled

And the houses ran in the rivers

That's what those who lived saw - that Day-

Crazy in the bell tower

The winged news said-

How much can come and go and -yet- the World remains!


  1. The Thrush by Thomas Hardy (2002. Recovered from abc.com
  2. The green side of Pablo Neruda (2014). Recovered from veoverde.com
  3. The 12 Poems of Emily Dickinson. Recovered from revistadelauniversidad.unam.mx
  4. Poems by Rudyard Kipling. Recovered from books.google.co.ve
  5. Poetry and nature. Recovered from fronterad.com
  6. Poetry: John Keats: to the fall. Recovered from aquileana.wordpress.com
  7. Robert Frost: the path not followed. Recovered from hablapoesia.com.ar
  8. Robert Burns (2011). Recovered from davidzuker.com
  9. Nature in Poems. Recovered from poems.org.

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