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A paddle here, a paddle there -- the canoe stays still.
Sierra Leonean proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatever Happened To Pong?
My brother and me used to play it
Down at the bar
Taking money from guys
More used to the playing of cards
Paddle the paddle to the side to the side
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
Paddle the paddle the side to the side
Pong
Ball in the machine
Now virtually everyones singing
A popular song
But I still believe in
In the excellent joy of the pong
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
To the paddle the paddle the side to the side
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
Pong
Ball in the machine
Now if they take it h.g. wells
Well, Ill be on the first flight
To a time before the kong
Whatever happended to pong?
Paddle the paddle to the side to the side
To the side to the side to the paddle the paddle
Paddle the paddle the side to the side
Pong
Ball in the machine
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canary Yellow Canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
The eastmain, coppermine, back river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - yellow canoe
I want to run rivers in my canary yellow canoe
The desmoines river, rupert river, george river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - mellow yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Chebugema, peace river, resolute too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my elephant too
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Churchill, yellowknife, ross river too
In my canary yellow canoe
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love many, trust few and always paddle your own canoe.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Red Canoe
De win' is sleepin' in de pine, but O! de
night is black!
An' all day long de loon bird cry on Lac Waya-
gamack-
No light is shinin' by de shore for helpin' steer
heem t'roo
W'en out upon de night, Ubalde he tak' de
red canoe.
I hear de paddle dip, dip, dip! wance more I
hear de loon-
I feel de breeze was show de way for storm
dat 's comin' soon,
An' den de sky fly open wit' de lightning
splittin' t'roo-
An' 'way beyon' de point I see de leetle red
canoe.
It 's dark again, but lissen how across Waya-
gamack
De tonder 's roarin' loud, an' now de mount-
ains answer back-
I wonder wit' de noise lak dat, he hear me, le
bon Dieu
W'en on ma knee I ax Heem save de leetle red
canoe!
Is dat a voice, so far away, it die upon ma hear?
Or only win' was foolin' me, an' w'isperin'
'Belzemire?'
Yaas, yaas, Ubalde, your Belzemire she 's
prayin' hard for you-
An' den again de lightning come, but w'ere 's
de red canoe?
Dey say I 'm mad, dem foolish folk, cos w'en
de night is black
An' w'en de wave lak snow-dreef come on Lac
Wayagamack
I tak' de place w'ere long ago we use to sit, us
two,
An' wait until de lightning bring de leetle red
canoe.
poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Song my Paddle Sings
West wind, blow from your prairie nest,
Blow from the mountains, blow from the west
The sail is idle, the sailor too ;
O! wind of the west, we wait for you.
Blow, blow!
I have wooed you so,
But never a favour you bestow.
You rock your cradle the hills between,
But scorn to notice my white lateen.
I stow the sail, unship the mast :
I wooed you long but my wooing's past ;
My paddle will lull you into rest.
O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west,
Sleep, sleep,
By your mountain steep,
Or down where the prairie grasses sweep!
Now fold in slumber your laggard wings,
For soft is the song my paddle sings.
August is laughing across the sky,
Laughing while paddle, canoe and I,
Drift, drift,
Where the hills uplift
On either side of the current swift.
The river rolls in its rocky bed ;
My paddle is plying its way ahead ;
Dip, dip,
While the water flip
In foam as over their breast we slip.
And oh, the river runs swifter now ;
The eddies circle about my bow.
Swirl, swirl!
How the ripples curl
In many a dangerous pool awhirl!
And forward far the rapids roar,
Fretting their margin for evermore.
Dash, dash,
With a mighty crash,
They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.
Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe!
The reckless waves you must plunge into.
Reel, reel.
On your trembling keel,
But never a fear my craft will feel.
We've raced the rapid, we're far ahead!
The river slips through its silent bed.
Sway, sway,
As the bubbles spray
And fall in tinkling tunes away.
And up on the hills against the sky,
A fir tree rocking its lullaby,
Swings, swings,
Its emerald wings,
Swelling the song that my paddle sings.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paddle together, bail, paddle; paddle, bail; paddle towards the land.
The Lake of the Dismal Swamp
'THEY made her a grave too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true;
And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,
Where all night long, by a firefly lamp,
She paddles her white canoe.
And her firefly lamp I soon shall see,
And her paddle I soon shall hear;
Long and moving our life shall be
And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree,
When the footstep of death is near.'
Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds, -
His path was rugged and sore,
Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,
Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,
And man never trod before.
And when on the earth he sank to sleep,
If slumber his eyelids knew,
He lay where the deadly vine doth weep
Its venemous tear, and nightly steep
The flesh with blistering dew!
And near him the she-wolf stirr'd the brake,
And the copper-snake breathed in his ear,
Till he starting cried, from his dream awake,
'Oh when shall I see the dusky Lake,
And the white canoe of my dear?'
He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright
Quick over its surface play'd, -
'Welcome,' he said, 'my dear one's light!'
And the dim shore echo'd for many a night
The name of the death-cold maid.
Till he hollow'd a boat of the birchen bark,
Which carried him off from the shore;
Far, far he follow'd the meteor spark,
The wind was high and the clouds were dark,
And the boat return'd no more.
But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp,
This lover and maid so true
Are seen at the hour of midnight damp
To cross the Lake by a firefly lamp,
And paddle their white canoe!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Paddle Your Boat
Paddle, paddle, paddle your boat!
But gently across the stream of love;
For there is something sweet inside you for your lover,
And this boat of love will lead you there.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Great Lake Canoe
Paddlin down the michigan
Catchin all the fish I can
Breathin holy air in my canoe
Groovin down superior
Takin taboos easier
Talkin with the lord in my canoe
Send me no pillows I can dream on
Ive seen all the nightmares I can bear to see
Gotta find the river to your kingdom in my canoe
Many moons on erie lake
Not a bottle of beer to break
Heaven knows I try best I can do
Maybe lake ontario
Gonna take me where I hope
Got to find the lord in my canoe
Paddlin down the michigan
Catchin all the fish I can
Breathin holy air in my canoe
Send me no willows I can weep on
Ive done all the crying I can bear to do
Lookin for the tributary to your kingdom
In my canoe.
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't paddle against the current, you paddle with it. And if you get good at it, you throw away the oars.
quote by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Bygones Be Bygones
What are you looking for?
'There use to be a bridge here,
I should have crossed...
A long time ago.
I am trying to find it.
'You must don't remember,
Burning that bridge.
It no longer exist.'
I wonder if I can get a lift with you?
'A lift?
You can not be serious?
A lift?
I've learned to paddle my own canoe.
And if I'm not mistaken...
I was taught by people like you,
Not to rely on anyone.'
Haven't you heard the term,
'Let bygones be bygones? '
'Yes I have.
Most definitely.
I'm gone.
Bye!
C-ya.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Unspoken Words
mum my lips, lifted like storm
show me the window and shall be
there to cry
move like cripple dung, shape that
smell foul, not a game to play
but gain to paint
oh! tell me and reveals what is real
nothing comes easy in the dust to play
paddle those canoe, for even the
wind brings dirt to rest
hold on each moment, the scattered
voice murmurs the wind and settles
down to lie...
poem by Antonio Liao
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The Kid On Summer Joy
Packed my books in my chattel
Rush and pray in a chapel
Off i go to summer school
Dance and swim in the summer pool.
Take my canoe to the summer beach
Paddle whole day with Mom and Dad
Summer comes once in a year
No more work but everyday
New friends, sweet memories we'll make
O we'll bake also cake
Not to placed in a case
But to eat, because its summer fun
Mom and Dad, O set me free
I will be good, because am a good boy
Buy me things and summer toy
For i am ROB ROY
The kid on summer joy
poem by mohamed Alpha Ba
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Shawrieh
Paddle your own canoe on the ocean of love and,
Bring your conscience to the river of peace;
For a clear mind leads to the clear realm of understanding.
Some things never change but, you can change yourself;
But, within the complicated mosaic of the diverse culture around you.
A shared sense of value in the land of love,
With positive words from you to heal my bones!
But, i am Shawrieh still sreaching for my way home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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With A Paddle But No Canoe
An empathy given is beginning to wane,
For those who initiate conflict in discreet...
And do their best to create opposition.
With a doing as that demon wishes.
That demon within them that sits...
Itching at the depths of their deception.
Determined to scratch that itch!
And a pattern is set that begins to look familiar.
As the misdeeds done that deceivers do...
Eventually emerge from their shadows.
Leaving empathizers,
More angered than disappointed.
And those who portray their innocence too well...
Find they are stuck on a distant shore,
With a paddle but no canoe to row or motorize.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is The Moon And I Have This Boat And A Paddle
there is this full moon tonight
and i have this sailboat and this paddle
the river is still and the night is silent
on the glassy water this boat slides
and this paddle moves me slowly
on the other side where you are there
scented by the sampaguitas and
for me patiently waiting..............
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For The Sake Of Love
I am the muse that speaks and the carnal mind is around too,
But my love to you is like the sweet potaotes!
For in it you will find the teaches about self control.
The vessels are fine and my muse is ready,
With words from the nosological relatives around;
But, i will paddle my own canoe for the sake of love.
The riddle of this muse and the rhythm of the blues,
The fiddle of the fields and the songs of love,
Like the digestive systems of man;
But the ruminants are like the surgical stapler.
Oh, what's love got to do?
Somewhere, anywhere, nowhere!
Cain hated Abel and i loved you;
But to cogitate is to love you all the way.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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