A river that forgets its source will soon dry out.
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Source Of Confort
God is a source of energy
God is a source of light
God is a source of love
God is a source of peace
God is a source of comfort
God is a source of hope
God is a source of freedom
God is a source of praise
poem by Aldo Kraas
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However far the stream flows, it never forgets its source.
Dream With You
(doug hopkins? )
? lays in the dark all day
She waits for the sun to go down
And in her novel we appear
To change her moods around
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
And girls like that they own the world
Theyll sell you what you need
On languid streets you search for her so ? in her sleep
Well she leads you on
Well she leads you on
Dream with you
Well she could only dream with you
And the distance keeps her warm
Her letters talk of things shes seen
Her silence what shes learned
Reminsce and drink with them
To hasten her return
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
Dream with you
Well she could only
And the distance keeps her warm
Dream with you
Well she could only
And the distance keeps her warm
Dream with you...
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I know a river
I know a river;
long before I began to hold a pen
those days of-
-'twinkle, twinkle little star'
I know a river;
A river of words;
not river-benue or river-niger
But its a river that flows in human-imagination
And a paper is made as a boat
-paddled with pen
To sail a message to the earth
From heaven's gate
-a lullaby to the infant and wise-words to the adult
I know a river;
Shakespeare and others've been to the river
-they took their bathe and left
Today,
Here I stood by the river bank,
With my colleagues Akewusola habib, Oludipe samuel,
muhammad-ahmad
-Rasak-malik-Gbolahan, Randy michael, Oloidi kingfemi and others
In the young of our days
Bathing in the river of words
Though we're nude in the river
But we're clothe with our imaginations
I know a river;
A river from solomon's source
Now I am swimmer,
-in its floods
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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Sometimes She Forgets
If you see her out tonight
And she tells you that it's just the lights
That bring her here and not her loneliness
That's what she says but sometimes she forgets
If she tells you she don't need a man
She's had all the comfort she can stand
You best believe every word she says
But don't give up 'cause sometimes she forgets
And sometimes she forgets that not too long ago she swore
She wasn't gonna let her heart be broken anymore
So now she keeps it locked away
And it grows colder everyday
And it won't warm to any man's caress
That's what she says but sometimes she forgets
And sometimes she forgets that not too long ago she swore
She wasn't gonna let her heart be broken anymore
If you see her out tonight
And she tells you that it's just the lights
That bring her here and not her loneliness
That's what she says but sometimes she forgets
Yeah, that's what she says, but sometimes she forgets
So don't you dare give up 'cause sometimes she forgets
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One declaims endlessly against the passions; one imputes all of man's suffering to them. One forgets that they are also the source of all his pleasures.
quote by Denis Diderot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Is The River?
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or somewhere else
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or hidden under the ground
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or safe inside the cave
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or still far away
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or up above the cloud
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or out of our reach
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or trickling on the rock
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or gathering in the pool
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or down over the cliff
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or just sight of illusion
Where is the river?
Is it here
Running in your eyes
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or sudden flood in the road
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Political Scientist
He is drinking water from the faucet from the river
From the tributary it comes through rusted pipes
Outside his window he sees the water that's supposed to be clean
By the chemicals polluted by the candy factory lines
Someplace on the edge of town
Someplace on the edge of town
Is where they live --
Political scientists
So now she is crawling on her hands and her knees
She is dirtying her jeans choking on her own perfume
With a pen she writes below the sink in someone's restaurant
This place is inconvenient for my name
She forgets to write it anyway
She forgets to write it anyway
The government supplies the cocaine
Political scientists
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
Banging hard upon a crooked drum
She feels them tearing down Salvation Army houses back in Michigan
Her husband's divorced but he treats her that way of course
Because he needs her just like he needs medicine
She forgets to write him anyway
She forgets to write him anyway
What's red and white and nearly over
Political scientist
Political scientist
Political scientist
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River Knows
Englyn unodle crwca
Quietly the river flows
never telling all it knows.
Has no reason I suppose and no voice.
We rejoice it does.
Whilst the river holds its peace.
We need not fear it might release,
From its store of memories: Dark secrets.
It forgets and heeds our pleas.
Secrets which we wish to hide.
We can cast our cares aside.
The wise river will decide, not to tell.
suits us well, all denied
Sins we now view with regret
.Sins we would we could forget
The river will keep secret for ever
and never cause upset.
Tuesday,09 February 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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There are three signs of senility. The first sign is that a man forgets his theorems. The second sign is that he forgets to zip up. The third sign is that he forgets to zip down.
quote by Paul Erdos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Source Of Infection
Hey!
Alright!
Whoo! how bout cha now,
Come on
Oh yeah!
Dig it!
Thats right.
Is everybody ready?
Lets go!
Up and down, around and round
In and out
Crank it, blow out
Ouch
Help me
Flip on over
Oh baby, you know what I like
She choked the chain, she got the hook
Cant get away
Fever starts to climb, reaching 105 (degrees)
I think I need a shot of your love
Love, love is the source
Love, love is the source of infection
Hey eddie
Say what
Thats what Im talkin about
Wax it down now
Ready, set, go!
Love, love is the source
Love, love is the source
Love, love, love, love is the source
Love, love is the source
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Talking River
I hear the river
Words flow down the pebble creek through my heart
Defy my understanding
It comes from unknown source, and
Proceeds to unforeseen destinations
It mirrors everything in my life, and says
It’s okay to make mistake sometimes
River passes us by, and
Flow on to other places
So often I listen to it for a second
Hold the words in the palm of my hands
Before it slips through my fingers
Always the river
Remind me love and hatred has no end
So are words has no limits
I will listen to what you say, and
We listen to the river again
The talking river holds its promise
Its steady flow forgives all blemishes
Its current washes off sinking debris
Cleanse our heart as we listen to it
Poem about Poetry - Poetry chimes
does it flow like a river?
its source in the mountain
chiming a crystal clear sound
since the first rain of creation?
or does it choke like a river
fed by a thousand man made tributaries
that it regurgitates before it could zig zags
its way clumsily out to sea
swarming homes with its rubbish?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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One forgets words as one forgets names. One's vocabulary needs constant fertilizing or it will die.
quote by Evelyn Waugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not About This
It is not about the classic rivers
of mythology, not about Acheron,
river of woe with its lines of unemployed
holding their migraines in their hands.
Or Cocytus, river of lamentation
where the elderly have gone
to grieve their condition.
It cannot be this.
Not the river of fire,
the lava flowing from another volcanic shudder
into the homes of the living & the dead,
& into the stories of new generations.
For these are byproducts,
shining as they are-
It is not about the river of forgetfulness,
inviting as the night visits the tortured mind.
No, not this, or the waters of hate
& the butchered bodies stacked along shorelines
& the lost women trying to find their sons,
or the river of return,
not the red river of consolation
wound about the heart
& through the vineyards,
or how our loves came to be,
then left us again to ourselves.
It is not about the oldest & saddest river,
the river of time, with flashes of metallic film
sliding by, gathering momentum
& the sufaces of faces,
the faces of phantoms,
(I have seen myself among them.)
It cannot be about theology,
or if it is, it is the theology of celestial mechanics,
the giant narrative of everything,
the source of energy, (& its forms,)
crunching itself out through the heavens.
poem by Michael Gessner
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River Ganga
River Ganga originates
from the himalayan glaciers
and flows down to earth
with a mystical, divine influence;
where immerses humans
their endless transgressions,
float around their mortal remains
to impure the heart of a holy river.
Is there a mountain on earth
or a source where one river flows
down to refurbish humans
and cleanse the stains of mind.
Is there a river on earth cursed
like Ganga to endure the burdens
of human submissions and surrender
on one credence and flow like
a silent tear dropp beneath
the moon lit sky..
3/12/2008
poem by Gayatri Nambiar
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Dry River Bed
The river- was, but died away,
leaving behind sand and stone,
a dry river bed.
The river that once led the way,
To Rameses throne,
Has no more life- dead.
The river from which reeds grew and swayed,
now dead and gone,
all that's left-a dry river bed.
The river that was marvelous by day,
and treacherous once the sun was gone,
is now but a dri river bed.
The river- beautiful, no words could say,
left behind - just a dry river bed.
poem by Esnala Banda
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You can see the source of a river, but not that of a clan.
Free River
Free River flow, Free River
so cold, Free River
you’re getting old.
Free River don’t cry, Free River
you’ve run dry.
I still see you through my youth’s eyes.
Free River you told no lies, Free River
your path has been made, Free River
all things change.
Free River you made it to the sea.
The friends I swam with once
are now gone, left only me.
Free River you’re worth more than gold, Free River
I've grown old.
I’ve lived by you my whole life and
I’ve left my seed through my wife, Free River
I lie at your shore; now dry,
Free River it’s my time to die.
poem by Patrick Dumas
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