Guargual?, Guargual?: it was rapids and remains rapids.
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Rushing Of The Rapids
The rushing of the rapids heard,
Soothes.
As does the walk along a path,
Shown to wind through Sun kissed trees.
The quietness heightens...
With soft and cool Summer breezes.
And...
The rushing of the rapids heard.
Birds of different colors flying.
With a landing on the rocks,
To catch the mist from fast pacing rapids,
Making sounds...
Or sending messages I could not interpret,
From birds and other creations of God...
Within this tropical splendor.
And I sit,
At the base of an old oak tree.
Feeling it...
Getting comfortable beneath me.
As if preparing for a welcomed and long visit.
The rushing of the rapids heard,
Soothes.
The rushing of the rapids,
Heard...
Soothes.
And I sit,
At the base of an old oak tree.
Feeling it...
Getting comfortable beneath me.
As if preparing for a welcomed and long visit.
The quietness heightens...
With soft and cool Summer breezes.
And...
That rushing of the rapids,
Heard.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grand Rapids
Air -- "Bright Alfaretta"
Wild roved the Indians once
On the banks of Grand River,
And they built their little huts
Down by that flowing river.
In a pleasant valley fair,
Where flows the river rapid,
An Indian village once was there,
Where now stands Grand Rapids.
Indian girls and boys were seen,
With their bow and quiver,
Riding in their light canoes
Up and down the river.
Their hearts were full of joy,
Happy voices singing
Made music with forest birds,
They kept the valley ringing.
Indians have left and gone
Beyond the Mississippi.
They called the river Owashtenong
Where stands this pleasant city.
Louis Campau the first white man
Bought land in Grand Rapids.
He lived and died, an honored man
By people of Grand Rapids.
When Campau came to the valley
No bridge was across the river;
Indians in their light canoes
Rowed them o'er the water.
Railroads now from every way
Run through the city, Grand Rapids;
The largest town in west Michigan
Is the city of Grand Rapids.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Perhaps, This is How Life is!
The water-falls are perilous although,
And fall as rapids on boulders below,
What cascading beauty and frothy air,
And splashing noise that rends the forests near!
It must be raining heavily above;
The sky here looks all blue without black-clouds?
A bridge of Hope connects the two forests;
The rapids cease into a gentle flow
To form a river that gives life to all!
The turbulence of earthly life is great,
With chaos and many dangers admixed;
Yet, Mother Nature waves her magic wand
And ushers halcyon days to all mankind.
poem by John Celes
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Song-The Final Spark
By Mountain Ash and roses wild
Recalling all we’ve been
Let’s cast our eyes o’er views so wide
And think on what’s unseen
And by the stealthy Luce so dark
Let’s quietly sit and wait
To catch that final flashing spark
As sun and river break
(chorus)
Now take my hand and let us walk
Towards the falling sun
Unveil our hearts and let us talk
Of rapids still to run
And on the sands where rivers meet
Let’s gaze through twilight’s glow
At sea trout surging clear and free
So briefly from the flow
(chorus)
Now take my hand and let us walk
Towards the falling sun
Unveil our hearts and let us talk
Of rapids still to run
And now, by hay just freshly mown,
Beneath the polar star,
Where Saturn hangs above the cove,
Let's kiss once more before we part
(11 07 08)
The petals tremble
The petals tremble
on the yellow mountain rose –
roar of the rapids
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Cedar Rapids [We Won]
Ed Helms, John C. Reilly, Anne Heche
by Phil Johnston from Cedar Rapids (2011)
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In The Rapids
He dives down into the cold water. at first he is thrown onto the rocks, and pulled under the water by a fast moving channel, which takes him right past john, down river.
Moving down the water
John is drifting out of sight,
Its only at the turning point
That you find out how you fight.
In the cold, feel the cold
All around
And the rush of crashing water
Surrounds me with its sound.
Rael manages to grab a rock, pull himself to the surface and catch his breath. as john is carried past, rael throws himself in again and catches hold of his arm. he knocks john unconscious and t
Ocking themselves together, he rides the rapids into the slow running water, where he can swim to safety.
Striking out to reach you
I cant get through to the other side,
When youre racing in the rapids
Theres only one way, thats to ride.
Taken down, taken down
By the undertow
Im spiralled down the river bed,
My fire is burning low.
Catching hold of a rock thats firm,
Im waiting for john to be carried past.
We hold together, hold together and shoot the rapids fast.
But as he hauls his brothers limp body onto the bank he lies him out and looks hopefully into his eyes for a sign of life. he staggers back in recoil, for staring at him with eyes wide open is
Ohns face - but his own.
And when the waters slow down
The dark and the deep
Have no-one, no-one, no-one, no-one
No-one left to keep.
Hang on john! were out of this at last.
Somethings changed, thats not your face.
Its mine - its mine!
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cedar Rapids [Who Wants to Get Wasted?]
Ed Helms, John C. Reilly, Anne Heche, Isiah Whitlock Jr.
by Phil Johnston from Cedar Rapids (2011)
Submitted by Film Fan
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Cedar Rapids
Sigourney Weaver, John C. Reilly, Alia Shawkat, Ed Helms, Anne Heche
by Phil Johnston from Cedar Rapids (2011)
Submitted by Film Fan
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Grand Rapids Cricket Club
In Grand Rapids is a handsome club,
Of men that cricket play,
As fine a set of skillful men
That can their skill display.
They are the champions of the West,
They think they are quite fine,
They've won a hundred honors well;
It is their most cunning design.
Brave Kelso, he's considered great,
Chief of the club he is found;
Great crowds he draws to see him bowl
The ball upon the ground.
And Mr. Follet is very brave,
A lighter player than the rest,
He got struck severe at the fair ground
For which he took a rest.
When Mr. Dennis does well play,
His courage is full great,
And accidents to him occur,
But not much, though, of late.
This ball play is a dangerous game,
Brave knights to play it though;
Those boys would be the nation's pride,
If they to war would go.
From Milwaukee their club did come,
With thoughts of skill at play,
But beat they was, and then went home --
Had nothing more to say.
Grand Rapids club that cricket play,
Will soon be known afar,
Much prouder do the members stand,
Like many a noble star.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Vitipuration Falls
Have you ever heard the torrent of abuse
As it curses it's way to Vitipuration Falls
Through rapids vitriolic and cataracts obtuse
To it's final foul mutterings in The Bay of Catcalls
Like Water
For I am like water
Following the path of least resistance
Through stagnant pools and rapids' rage
Like water
I will always find my way
To the sea
The artist one day falls through a hole in the brambles, and from that moment he is following the dark rapids of an underground river which may sometimes flow so near to the surface that the laughing picnic parties are heard above.
quote by Cyril Connolly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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145
All year
Round
I flow like
A shallow
River
This time
It will
Be the last
Of this
Round
I will
Be deep
So there
Will be
No rapids
Just depths
And silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Just Depths And Silence
All year
Round
I flow like
A shallow
River
This time
It will
Be the last
Of this
Round
I will
Be deep
So there
Will be
No rapids
Just depths
And silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pieces Of Pieces (Ed 2)
i hope all and every piece of pieces
of life comes a journey
to start yet another journey
of life
as we do live a life
in grace and blessings of the most high
to live as people of peoples and nations
from yard and abroad
as we inter-act with those we never ever imagined
we could know nor share a word of business with
but through the nature of the almighty and creation
we met to gather and share
a tradition of culture and flair
a unity of people connecting
and linked by culture
a spiritual necessity of the community
of kasane and plateau
and the villages of the enclave
to a cultural spectrum of culture
as we do live a life
a journey from within each of us as people
to gather and gain to share
and give an emotional strength
to a thought, of some sort...
at that time, on a sunny sunday
blessed is this sunday my dear
well, my thoughts are well to a river
as i carry me a river
there by sevuva river of the rapids
and stay put to meditate and relate
with nature and existence in its form
whence me come a river
and listen to the birds
so mellow
and the river peoples of the impalila island
a stone throw
across the chobe-zambezi river
this sand
on my feet i could feel
the hotness
of an adventure and breeze
let me take you by the rapids....
and go sevuva rapids....
***extract from 'pieces of pieces of life' march 2012 ebook
a people with focus, patience and determination is a people. a lady with self respect, intelligence, stillness, love and affection is a one good and blessed lady. a man with energy, go-getting, attentive, self respect, love and affection is a real godly man.
this means we all need some love to get and give and likewise.
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Wave-won
To-night I hunger so,
Beloved one, to know
If you recall and crave again the dream
That haunted our canoe,
And wove its witchcraft through
Our hearts as 'neath the northern night we sailed the northern stream.
Ah! dear, if only we
As yesternight could be
Afloat within that light and lonely shell,
To drift in silence till
Heart-hushed, and lulled and still
The moonlight through the melting air flung forth its fatal spell.
The dusky summer night,
The path of gold and white
The moon had cast across the river's breast,
The shores in shadows clad,
The far-away, half-sad
Sweet singing of the whip-poor-will, all soothed our souls to rest.
You trusted I could feel
My arm as strong as steel,
So still your upturned face, so calm your breath,
While circling eddies curled,
While laughing rapids whirled
From boulder unto boulder, till they dashed themselves to death.
Your splendid eyes aflame
Put heaven's stars to shame,
Your god-like head so near my lap was laid--
My hand is burning where
It touched your wind-blown hair,
As sweeping to the rapids verge, I changed my paddle blade.
The boat obeyed my hand,
Till wearied with its grand
Wild anger, all the river lay aswoon,
And as my paddle dipped,
Thro' pools of pearl it slipped
And swept beneath a shore of shade, beneath a velvet moon.
To-night, again dream you
Our spirit-winged canoe
Is listening to the rapids purling past?
Where, in delirium reeled
Our maddened hearts that kneeled
To idolize the perfect world, to taste of love at last.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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On the 27th we came to the Cascade Rapids. The first or Little Cascade has about two feet fall, the second or Grand Cascade, a mile farther, is about a six foot sheer drop.
quote by Ernest Thompson Seton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon
I'm a frozen river.
Moon, the heavenly
body is leaving now,
taking off her clothes.
Now I'm melting, cracking,
breaking up inside, and swelling
into rapids over rocks and leaning trees.
Once again it's morning here at
Crazy Woman Creek.
poem by Rick Stokes
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Re-voyage
What of the days when we two dreamed together?
Days marvellously fair,
As lightsome as a skyward floating feather
Sailing on summer air--
Summer, summer, that came drifting through
Fate's hand to me, to you.
What of the days, my dear? I sometimes wonder
If you too wish this sky
Could be the blue we sailed so softly under,
In that sun-kissed July;
Sailed in the warm and yellow afternoon,
With hearts in touch and tune.
Have you no longing to re-live the dreaming,
Adrift in my canoe?
To watch my paddle blade all wet and gleaming
Cleaving the waters through?
To lie wind-blown and wave-caressed, until
Your restless pulse grows still?
Do you not long to listen to the purling
Of foam athwart the keel?
To hear the nearing rapids softly swirling
Among their stones, to feel
The boat's unsteady tremor as it braves
The wild and snarling waves?
What need of question, what of your replying?
Oh! well I know that you
Would toss the world away to be but lying
Again in my canoe,
In listless indolence entranced and lost,
Wave-rocked, and passion tossed.
Ah me! my paddle failed me in the steering
Across love's shoreless seas;
All reckless, I had ne'er a thought of fearing
Such dreary days as these,
When through the self-same rapids we dash by,
My lone canoe and I.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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