The Poems on this page all have natural
themes. If you have a poem you think should be on this page, send it
to the e-mail adress at the bottom of the page, along with your name
and what year you wrote it so I can give you credit. I will not
plagurize or steal anyone's work, please do the same for me.
Dawn and Dusk
�Molly Mande 1997
Night blankets the world around
darkening the sky and the earth
the world's voice becomes hushed
and a star appears in the North.
Birds tuck their heads away
and cease their daytime song
the world is always quieter
when the light is gone.
A cricket chirps a melody
the only sound besides
is that of the whispering breeze
that laps a gentle tide.
The ocean surf seems louder now
than it's daytime lull.
as it laps the peaceful shore
and rocks a lonely gull.
The world has lost it's color now
the trees are ghostly shapes
against the hilly silhouettes
a black void, a gape.
Again the navy, spangled sky
trimmed with starry pearls
that float above the nighttime
above the sleeping world.
The moon is rising slowly now
kissing the ocean's face
dancing along the contours
with soft, silvery grace.
The night lives on, slowly
it's sounds and smells and light
til all at once it lightens.
piercing through the night.
The sun rises, above the sea
dancing on the waves
and kissing the wispy clouds
with it's rosy rays.
"morning's come" the birds call
joyfully in song.
Their repetitious song, filling the
air
and lasting all day long.
And then again the day fades
and surrenders to the night
and all the world hushes
awaiting the morning light.
The Sea
�Molly Mande 1996
At first you think it calm.
a pane of glass reflecting the sky
gently rippling as a breeze
kisses it's face as it wipers by.
�
A gull circles overhead.
And coasts along the shore
Don't be fooled by the peacefulness
It's always stillest before the
storm.
�
From behind the still horizon
Black clouds suddenly appear
A bolt of lightning hits the sea
Shattering the mirror.
�
The sea begins to darken
and churn with a growing hate
the peaceful shore seems to shutter
as it anticipates its fate.
�
The frothing waves roar
And churn in a foaming
m�l�
As you stand on a cliff and watch
the ballad of a stormy sea.
The Butterfly Ball
�Molly Mande 1996
With a ceiling of the ancient pine
that arch their sturdy bows
and a carpet of the velvet moss
that coats the forest ground.
The orchestra, a summer breeze
on the strings of a field of rye.
And a solo lark sings along
her song, a lullaby.
The dancers are the butterflies,
and their partners the flowers.
Together they dance, to the breeze,
swaying along for hours.
Then the eucalyptus, the ballroom
king
and the Monarch the ballroom queen,
together start their spotlight
dance
among the bowing trees.
A ballroom more majestic
in any castle you'll never find.
Than the one beyond your own
backyard
the dance of the butterfly.
Tribute to Pt.Reyes
�Molly Mande 1997
I sit in the grass, watching the
world
the mist swirls through the trees
blowing their branches, and dewing their
tips
rideing on the salt-tainted breeze.
A lone gull calls, heard but unseen
hidden by the thickening haze,
that rolles in on the tide
blanketing the coast for days.
I gaze out at the ocean
feeling it's consistant roar
while I watch it gently rock a boat
and lap a peaceful shore.
I look down the coast
and up at the sky,
breathing in the perfection
this natural wonder
this pristine haven
of natures choice selections.
If truely there is a heaven
then it's beauty cant exceed
that of my own Pt. Reyes
the only haven I'll ever need....
Sign of Spring...
�Molly Mande 1997
Winter's winds howl
among the barren trees
whistling with and icy claw
the world it does seize.
Among the snow a flower grows
all else shrouded in white
struggling to withhold it's place
amidst the frozen night.
The flower maddens the winter
a pawn of coming spring
that shows the winter's loosing
ground it must regain.
But slowly the winter fades
much to it's despair
and soon the world is green again
and bird-song fills the air.
The seasons change slowly,
summer into fall.
And now the birds are leaving
you can hear their eager call.
And in the air you can feel the
chill
of winter's icy breath.
It's waken up once again
from it's hard earned rest.
And as the first snowflake falls
you know what it will bring
so just sit back, hibernate,
and await that sign of spring...
Weeds
�Molly Mande 1997
The trees are noticed frequently,
their wisdom greatly awed
the wildflowers are thought of
as nature's gift from god
while neat rows of home grown
veggies
are gobbled down with greed
How many love the weed?
They're shunned for growing places
rightfully their home
and their roots ripped from the
soil
where they many years have grown.
Although they feed the wildlife
they're thought of as a curse
and trampled down by map wielding
camera-happy-tourists.
So make a stand to save the weed!
Start a petition, plant a seed
for what would the world be like,
without the weed?
The Storm
�Molly Mande 1997
The clouds are tinged with pink
as night time settles in
The twilight is defeated
as it's peacful song it sings.
The hills are cloked with darkness
and the trees, gostly silluettes
the summer air, is sweet and cool
this is as perfect as it gets...
The silence is broken, by a breeze
cold, and harsh, from the north
the pastel couds have grown dark
a storm is comming forth...
The first drops of rain
hit the dry summer ground
and the leaves of the trees
are turned up-side-down.
From the rolling, boiling clouds
streak of lightning flashes
and shaking the surrounding hills
a round of thunder cr ashes...
The storm rages on and on
it's wrath tearing up the peace
suddenly you feel a change
and the storm begins to ease.
The rain slows, and the thunder
dies
and the leaves just gently shift
the air smells rich and clean
and the clouds slowly lift.
The stars shine down
from the now clear sky
and the b reeze, blows the leaves
waving the storm goodbye...
A Pond
�Molly Mande 1998
Timid ripples flicker light
apon the mirrored surface.
Dancing sunbeams, and moonbeams alike
choose this as their danceing place.
Upside down trees,
and upside down flowers
reside within it's depths
waiting for a curious face
to peer into it's waters.
Wind
�Molly Mande 1998
The wind cries in desperation
unable to catch the trees
who's branches it blows in frustration
with it's small, aimless breeze.
In winter it howls out aloud
with, icy, bitter, furry
tosing, and twirling, the helpless snowflakes
in a white, frosty flurry.
Spring time calms the bitter wind
tameing them into breezes
reflecting the peace, and joy
of this new, and budding season.
Snowfall
�Molly Mande 1998
the snow falls gently now
in large, wispy flakes.
The wind blows softly now
with slow, methodocal grace.
the trees sway smoothly now
swaying their arm-like bows.
and the world is quiet now
as the snow blankets the ground.
Memory of spring
�Molly Mande 1998
Playful leaves all have gone
into their shadowy graves
and the flowers that once bloomed
have been long decayed...
Trees are bare, skelital shapes
moaning in the wind.
And all that's left of warmth and sun
is a memory of the spring.
Background �Molly Mande 1998
