This poem was written for school. The assignment was to do a take off of Rupert Brooke's "The Great Lover." The purpose was to get students to practice descriptive language since many students really do need to harness their creative energies. When I first wrote this I wasn't too happy with it simply because it was a forced assignment and forced poetry is generally something I'm not happy with. However, after hearing my teacher read it (which he did for a few poems) I decided I did a nice job on it. I suppose it really wasn't too forced at all. It was a poem in the making before the assignment, this just gave me an output.

I fear I lose a bit of readership because of FP's horrible defacement of my perfectly constructed format. People don't like to go to other links, but if you want to see the true beauty of my art, I urge you to go to the following address (deleting the necessary spaces needed for FP of course):
spidermatt. esmartweb. com/

Natural

I have always been a great lover of the novel and new
Never neglecting the talented minority, too few
Conformity: so unbecoming; apathetically kowtowing
To everyone offering the shiny jewel that people snatch unknowing
It’s just a rock when the glitter is brushed away
And tomorrow when the sun rises, it’s just another day
The true greatness of man consists of empires built
Towards the horizons of uncompromised genius
As gods we live and die—as mortals we soar and fly
reaching new heights and invariably living forever
Mortality and Immortality originate at the same obsession:
A love of natural beauty; this is my confession
These I have loved:
Lush green leaves after late night showers
With drops reflecting spectral, radiant beauty in a thousand directions
in the morning hours;
The pounding feet in sync with the pounding heart
No rest for miles, but the scenery is nice enough;
Poignant aroma of maple leaves and pine wood
Tickling the olfactory nerves, complimenting a
Calming rest on the limb of a tree
High above the vacated street
While nature’s music fills the air,
Adding a sweet topping to solitude and tranquility;
Refreshing restoration of water
Hydrating and nourishing the energy drained body;
Crisp pages of a newly bound book
Turning gently in eager hands
With nostalgic paper smell;
Pictures painted with words express the genius of man,
Literary immortals never fail to please;
The renegade pen dancing with paper accomplice,
Painting pictures with words;
Descending sun in the west
Spurring a tableau of colors, in turn spurring dreams,
nothing but the best;
Late night showers jubilantly drenching
Nearby terrain,
As I lay down in cool, soft, welcoming sheets
Drifting towards wonderland, listening to nature’s gentle melody.
These I have loved,
these are all I need.