National Geographic Photographer


Follow me, 

into the wild,

into the jungle of nature. 

Come with me,

onwards to the mountains,

so I can feel the wind on my face, 

and see the world beneathe my feet. 

But tread gently, dear, tread gently.

The magestic lion sleeps near.

Here in the depths of Mother Earth, 

with my camera I'll capture all that She has to offer.

I'll borrow the evening sky,

and the raging midnight sea, 

then return it to Her hands,

and forever there it shall be. 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741