PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Rolling Hills


Hills spread out towards the horizon like balloons under

the dirt illuminates a musky scent of animals and

plants are topped with tuffs that feels like the hair on

my legs ache as there’s always just one more hill to climb on the seemingly endless

trails where the wind tastes acrid from dust and dusky

air around me stills; I never want to leave.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Arden Bubula

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.