Our village was built on the Ohio River, and was a halting place on this great national road, then the only avenue of traffic between the South and the North.
quote by Rebecca H. Davis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
North And South Of The River
I want to reach out over the Loch
And feel your hand across the water
Walk with you along an unapproved road
Not looking over my shoulder
I want to see, and I want to hear
To understand your fears
But we're north and south of the river
I've been doing it wrong all of my life
This holy town has turned me over
A young man running from what he didn't understand
The wind from the Loch just get colder, colder
There was a badness that had its way
But love wasn't lost, love will have its day
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Can we stop playing these old tattoos
Darling I don't have the answer
I want to meet you where you are
I don't need you to surrender
'Cause there's no feeling that's so alone
As when the one you're hurting is your own
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Some high ground is not worth taking
Some connections are not worth making
There's an old church bell no longer ringing
Some old songs are not worth bringing
North...
(Higher ground is not worth taking)
North and south of the river
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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North & South Of The River
I want to reach out over the loch
And feel your hand across the water
Walk with you along an unapproved road
Not looking over my shoulder
I want to see, and I want to hear
To understand your fears
But were north and south of the river
Ive been doing it wrong all of my life
This holy town has turned me over
A young man running from what he didnt understand
The wind from the loch just get colder, colder
There was a badness that had its way
But love wasnt lost, love will have its day
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Can we stop playing these old tattoos
Darling I dont have the answer
I want to meet you where you are
I dont need you to surrender
cause theres no feeling thats so alone
As when the one youre hurting is your own
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Some high ground is not worth taking
Some connections are not worth making
Theres an old church bell no longer ringing
Some old songs are not worth bringing
North...
(higher ground is not worth taking)
North and south of the river
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's A Hard Road
I jumped on the train
I left this old town
I escaped the rain
I'm no longer down
The wheels start to turn
My worries are gone
I have lots to learn
About the trail that I'm on
As I look around
I see my new friend
I know I am bound
To travel till the end
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
The train it did slow
I'm in a new place
The moonlight does glow
On my tired face
It's time for me
To try and find a bed
It's time for me
To rest my weary head
Morning is here
There's sorting to do
I'll sound sincere
With my goodbye to you
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
It's time to move away
I'm not satisfied
I've spent many a day
Finding a place to reside
There's a town on my mind
It's just down the track
No need to find
A way to get back
The train I will get
Sitting at the station
The future is set
I feel anticipation
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
poem by Liam Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Response to a Rumor That the Oldest Whorehouse in Wheeling, West Virginia, Has Been Condemned
I will grieve alone,
As I strolled alone, years ago, down along
The Ohio shore.
I hid in the hobo jungle weeds
Upstream from the sewer main,
Pondering, gazing.
I saw, down river,
At Twenty-third and Water Streets
By the vinegar works,
The doors open in early evening.
Swinging their purses, the women
Poured down the long street to the river
And into the river.
I do not know how it was
They could drown every evening.
What time near dawn did they climb up the other shore,
Drying their wings?
For the river at Wheeling, West Virginia,
Has only two shores:
The one in hell, the other
In Bridgeport, Ohio.
And nobody would commit suicide, only
To find beyond death
Bridgeport, Ohio.
poem by James Arlington Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Your Mind There Remains Unrest
If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
But,
Yet in your mind there remains unrest.
If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
You seek a model,
In the East.
One you can bottle,
From the North.
To establish a nest,
One picked from the West.
And,
In the South you'll have that house...
Successfully built by an architect.
You seek a model,
In the East.
One you can bottle,
From the North.
To establish a nest,
One picked from the West.
And,
In the South you'll have that house...
Successfully built by an architect.
If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
But,
Yet in your mind there remains unrest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0019 O h i o!
and how many citizens of Ohio
know that when they say Ohio
they’re saying what, in the
Senecan language of the Iroquois tribe, is
‘Ohiyo’ meaning, it’s beautiful..
as said originally of the Ohio river;
so, poetry being a place where
the imagination is allowed to roam
as free as any Indian tribe, I like
to think of Ohians today passing
each other in the street every day
and saying ‘O-hi-yo! ’ with
a merry smile rather as in
‘Oklahoma’ was it, they sing
Oh what a beautiful morning
or as we do in a telephone call
when after a second or two
you come on the phone and
we say, ‘oh, hi… oh I forgot to say…’
mixing greeting and memory
well, there you are, Ohians,
I leave it to you,
whether this daily gesture
towards state pride, heritage, and
just friendliness, could catch on…
it’s poetry in action…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Where The Mattagami Flows
This is the original:
It's the City of Timmins Where The Mattagami Flows
There's a place East of Sault St. Marie where I go
On hi-way eleven North of Toronto
Just past Texas Gulf's Kidd Creek Copper mine
It's the City of Timmins and South Porcupine
Go ski on the mountain the hills are just great
The ghost of Maggie will greet you at Kamiskotia Lake
The Shania Twain Center and their Gold Mine Tours
Sure proud of 'Whose Beds Have your Boots Been Under'
Chorus:
In summer the farmers rise early at dawn
Their hands tell a story of ancestors gone
They'll feed this great nation with tractors and hoes
At the the old Mountjoy Market their produce are sold
(It's the City of Timmins where the Mattagami flows)
Verse:
Now springtime is a beauty that all can behold
The leaves are a treasure of diamonds and gold
The blooming of tulips will remind us all
That the Pickerel will soon bite at old Sandy Falls
There's one forty four south to Sudbury
On the way there's Gogama Indian Territory
And the road to North Bay is a haven to me
Where grandpa came to settle in the North Country
(It's the city of Timmins where the Mattagami flows) (It's the City of Timmins the place I was born)
In the Key of (C) major
Words & Music
Paul Henry Dallaire
Paul Henry Pub. SOCAN
poem by Paul Henry Dallaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hungry For Cigarettes Only
Early Saturday morning,
We went to the water roundabout
we have been waited by the car.
We walked straight passed the palace
through the place of Arabians place
left bend climbed above
headed the slate road.
upwards continued,
through many of durian trees,
through fish fish-ponds,
stalled in the repaired roads,
which many organisers of the traffic
from the inhabitants of the village
use the hat, tin asked for the fund contribution
for the improvement of the government road
improved never was finished.
we went straight to Cihideung,
went straight to the hungry of the Old-Peasant.
just need for cigarettes
only,
poem by Prasetya Utama
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I Said To The Wanting-Creature Inside Me
I said to the wanting-creature inside me:
What is this river you want to cross?
There are no travelers on the river-road, and no road.
Do you see anyone moving about on that bank, or nesting?
There is no river at all, and no boat, and no boatman.
There is no tow rope either, and no one to pull it.
There is no ground, no sky, no time, no bank, no ford!
And there is no body, and no mind!
Do you believe there is some place that will make the
soul less thirsty?
In that great absence you will find nothing.
Be strong then, and enter into your own body;
there you have a solid place for your feet.
Think about it carefully!
Don't go off somewhere else!
Kabir says this: just throw away all thoughts of
imaginary things,
and stand firm in that which you are.
Overall relations between the North and the South have developed in favor of national reconciliation, unity and reunification.
quote by Kim Jong Il
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road That Runs Beside The River
follows the river as it bends
along the valley floor,
going the way it must.
Where water goes, so goes the road,
if there's room (not in a ravine,
gorge), the river
on your right or left. Left is better: when you're driving,
it's over your elbow across
the road.
You see the current, which is
what the river is: the river
in the river, a thing sliding fast forward
inside a thing sliding not so fast forward.
Driving with, beside, the river's flow is good.
Another pleasure, driving against it: it's the same river
someone else will see
somewhere else downstream -- same play,
new theater, different set.
Wide, shallow, fairly fast,
roundy-stone streambed, rocky-land river,
it turns there or here -- the ground
telling it so -- draining dull
mountains to the north,
migrating, feeding a few hard-fleshed fish
who live in it. One small sandbar splits
the river, then it loops left,
the road right, and the river's silver
slips under the trees,
into the forest,
and over the sharp perpendicular
edge of the earth.
poem by Thomas Lux
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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4. Blow me down
The North wind blew on Monday
As the East wind got the flu
The West wind blew on Tuesday
As the South wind never knew
The North East wind had Wednesday
As the South West wasn’t chuffed
The North West blew on Thursday
As the South East hardly puffed
The East and West blew Friday
As the others had a rest
The North and South blew Saturday
As the weekends were the best
The lot of them had Sunday
As the winds turned into storm
The whole of them had Monday off
As the week got back to norm
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remembering South of the River
South river good
Landscape old once know well
Sunrise river flower red bear fire
Spring come river water green like lily
Can not remember river south
South of the river is good,
Long ago, I knew the landscape well.
At sunrise, the river's flowers are red like fire,
In spring, the river's water's green as lilies.
How could I not remember south of the river?
Overture -- Cotton Avenue
A red sun came rolling down a grey sky
And the frogs and dogs and night birds then
Started up singing sweet country lullaby
You see that patch of city lights-
Somewhere in there's Cotton Avenue-
That's where I'm going to take myself tonight
With a spit shine on my dancing shoes
If you got a place like that to go
You just have to go there
If you got no place special
Well then, you just go no place special
I guess it's just the summer in the young blood
Ripe and juicy in the young blood
Teasing to go down to ...
Cotton Avenue
To hear the shiny shiny music
See all the shiny people dancing to it
Anytime you go to ...
Cotton Avenue
If you got a place like that to go
You know you got to go there
If you got no place special
Well then, you just go no place special
You see that summer storm brewing in the southern sky
By the time it hits here I'll be dancing high and dry
To rhythm and blues
On Cotton Avenue
Poor boys'll be hanging around outside in the street
They got all the latest words
They're dancing to the latest beat
While they're hustling and sizing you
On Cotton Avenue
If you got a place like that to go
You just have to go there
If you've got no place special
Well my dear
You just so no place ... special
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace River
The Peace River creeps along
From its start in the sand it calls home
That sometimes takes up more below
Than it adds to the flow.
The groove cut deep in ages past
Into the lime-rock's cast
Remains a testament to the way
That Nature refreshes, then takes away.
Sometimes a wild river that knows no bounds
Later just a few scattered ponds
Harboring life which one day
Will again spread when the River has its say.
Once a road for paddlewheel boats
That carried goods up-river to folks
When loaded with coal and necessities
From mines and far away cities.
Then down river the boats did ply
Phosphate ore that man might buy
As an ingredient to benefit all,
Something to makes crops grow tall.
But now the Peace River's flow
Has been claimed by those below
Who've built along Gulf's shore,
And thirst for water, even more.
There are solutions, few
When Winter's drought begins anew
When fish and man alike must find
A place of another kind.
Yet the river lies quiet and waits
For the Summer rains that will create
Again the flood as in times past
When the water moves deep and fast.
The Peace River originates in an area known as the 'Green Swamp, ' a vast mostly unpopulated area of central Florida lying between Tampa and Orlando. The sandy soil (if soil it can be considered to be) accepts summer rainfall while giving up the excess to runoff, and uses the remainder to recharge the shallow limestone/sand aquifer. In the dry season of the year, the aquifer gives up a portion of its burden through springs and seeps to rivers flowing East (Orlando) , West (Tampa) , North (Jacksonville) and South (Charlotte bay) . Southwest Water Management District (Called Swift Mud) will try to 'harness' the Peace river and control its flow. But there's much about the river that they seem not to know (or want to learn) .
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghost Bear, page 1 of 4
Long ago, in a small village
Where the Great River meets the
Limitless Salt Sea, lived Muin Manitu,
An aging shaman.
Ghost Bear had two good wives
Who gave him four fine daughters
And many grand-children.
But now both wives were dead.
Ghost Bear was getting old,
So old that he made his death song
Mumbling it often under his breath
So he would not forget it.
One night, Raven came to Ghost Bear
In a dream, bringing an important message.
“You must leave wigwam and village,
before the sun rises again.”
“This must be my time, ” thought
Ghost Bear, “My time to die.
I am glad. It is a good time
to leave this world.”
And so, taking only his knife and
His Medicine Bag, Ghost Bear pushed
His canoe out into the river while
All the village slept.
“I will go west on the Great River, ”
Thought Ghost Bear to himself, “Then,
When it is my time to go, I will be
pointed in the right direction.”
All morning long, Ghost Bear paddled
Westward on the Great River, and when
Sun was directly above him, he saw
A raven flying high above.
“I am going true, ” he thought, “Raven
Has sent me an unmistakeable sign.”
And Ghost Bear kept paddling with
Neither food nor drink.
As day became night, Ghost Bear
Continued on, for the full moon was bright
And showed him the right path on the
Great River clearly, brightly.
poem by John Bliven Morin
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Cotton Avenue
A red sun came rolling down a grey sky
And the frogs and dogs and night birds then
Started up singing sweet country lullaby
You see that patch of city lights-
Somewhere in theres cotton avenue-
Thats where Im going to take myself tonight
With a spit shine on my dancing shoes
If you got a place like that to go
You just have to go there
If you got no place special
Well then, you just go no place special
I guess its just the summer in the young blood
Ripe and juicy in the young blood
Teasing to go down to ...
Cotton avenue
To hear the shiny shiny music
See all the shiny people dancing to it
Anytime you go to ...
Cotton avenue
If you got a place like that to go
You know you got to go there
If you got no place special
Well then, you just go no place special
You see that summer storm brewing in the southern sky
By the time it hits here Ill be dancing high and dry
To rhythm and blues
On cotton avenue
Poor boysll be hanging around outside in the street
They got all the latest words
Theyre dancing to the latest beat
While theyre hustling and sizing you
On cotton avenue
If you got a place like that to go
You just have to go there
If youve got no place special
Well my dear
You just so no place ... special
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One of the first things I did as a new Member of Congress was help form a bipartisan Mississippi River Caucus so we could work together from both the North and the South in order to draw attention to the resources that are needed along the Mississippi River.
The River of Desire
On the banks of the River of Desire
The abodes of our Gods are empty
The Gods deserted our village long ago
Leaving behind all the sanctums
Their broken walls yielded fine bricks
For the masonry of our village homes.
The River meandered around our village
Threatening to swallow our temples
Our children have hunger in their eyes
We have no oil to light God’s lamps
The River now threatens to swallow
Our parched paddy fields and our homes.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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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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