How We Heard The Name
The river brought down
dead horses, dead men
and military debris,
indicative of war
or official acts upstream,
but it went by, it all
goes by, that is the thing
about the river. Then
a soldier on a log
went by. He seemed drunk
and we asked him Why
had he and this junk
come down to us so
from the past upstream.
“Friends,” he said, “the great
Battle of Granicus
has just been won
by all of the Greeks except
the Lacedaemonians and
myself: this is a joke
between me and a man
named Alexander, whom
all of you ba-bas
will hear of as a god.”
poem by Alan Dugan
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Related quotes
In 200 B.C.
"Alexander son of Philip, and the Greeks except the Lacedaemonians--"
We can very well imagine
that they were utterly indifferent in Sparta
to this inscription. "Except the Lacedaemonians",
but naturally. The Spartans were not
to be led and ordered about
as precious servants. Besides
a panhellenic campaign without
a Spartan king as a leader
would not have appeared very important.
O, of course "except the Lacedaemonians."
This too is a stand. Understandable.
Thus, except the Lacedaemonians at Granicus;
and then at Issus; and in the final
battle, where the formidable army was swept away
that the Persians had massed at Arbela:
which had set out from Arbela for victory, and was swept away.
And out of the remarkable panhellenic campaign,
victorious, brilliant,
celebrated, glorious
as no other had ever been glorified,
the incomparable: we emerged;
a great new Greek world.
We; the Alexandrians, the Antiocheans,
the Seleucians, and the numerous
rest of the Greeks of Egypt and Syria,
and of Media, and Persia, and the many others.
With our extensive territories,
with the varied action of thoughtful adaptations.
And the Common Greek Language
we carried to the heart of Bactria, to the Indians.
As if we were to talk of Lacedaemonians now!
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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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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Her beauty in the nightfall firmament
I was blindfold and they labeled me as an unfortunate soul
who wanders for a virgin.
They proposed me a virgin and said' you cannot remove the cloth
until you find a river; then you can go freely with this virgin.'
I agreed; Oh! for the first time in my life
I touched a woman's hand and it's trembling like a rabbit.
On the way she told ' please we live forever in blindfold;
we are at the bridge and I can hear the river flows.
'I have to remove and it's a must' I said.
Then I found her tears on my hand; like acidity.
Oh! her blindness brought me the utmost sadness.
And at last I decided to swim together in the upstream.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The river-Rijeka
search the river upstream
search the river downstream
the river bed is looking for me
traži rijeku uzvodno
traži rijeku nizvodno
rijeka me koritom traži
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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News to the king, good news for all
'NEWS to the king, good news for all,'
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'News of the battle,' the heralds call,
'We have won the field; we have taken the town;
We have beaten the rebels and crushed them down.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'Who was my bravest?' quoth the king,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Whom shall I honour for this great thing?'
'Threescore were best, where none were worst;
But Walter Wendulph was aye the first.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'What of my husband?' quoth the bride,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Comes he to-morrow; how long will he bide?'
'Put off thy bridegear, busk thee in black;
Walter Wendulph will never come back.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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The cruel bridge over the river errorneous
The broad river flows fierce than an ocean.
In front of the longest bridge
Both of us at the two ends and the sign board says
Not allowed for pedestrians and only for heavy vehicles.
Our fruition is fruitless and how long we have to stand like this?
Forget the racism my sweetheart
Who made us with the same clay?
We break this primitive fundamental bridge,
Jump to the river and swim upstream.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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
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The River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.
poem by Marria Attar
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Remember, a dead fish can float downstream, but it takes a live one to swim upstream.
quote by W.C. Fields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Dead, All Dead
Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River So Wide
If we can cross at the place that divides us.
Cross the river, the river so wide,
If we can smother the pain thats inside us,
Deny the demons that wait bu our side,
We can find, find the light
Our nights are filled with the light of the same moon,
We share the comfort of the same stars.
Our days are bright with the light of the same sun,
That dont matter, cant you see what we are,
What we are, what we become?
Keep our sights on the way ahead,
Dont look back, it wont help us now.
The storm we left so far behind
Seems a dark memory that starts to fade,
But till we see the light we will not be safe.
We all sink or swin in the same ocean,
Break our skin and we will bleed
Our minutes pass with the same motion,
We face the same danger, we share the same needs,
Were all the same, you and me.
Keep our sights on the way ahead,
Dont look back, that wont help us now.
Upstream, the river gets too wide
So we must build that bridge right here,
cos if we wait we will not reach the other side.
See under that clear blue sky
The winds of change are blowing hard and long,
And theyll not stop to rest cos the change is gonna come
Our nights are filled with the light of the same moon,
We share the comfort of the same stars.
Our days are bright with the light of the same sun,
That dont matter, cant you see what we are,
What we are, what we become?
Keep our sights on the way ahead,
Dont look back, it wont help us now.
cos upstream the river gets too wide
And if we dont build that bridge right here, right now,
You know well never ever reach the other side.
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take The Water To The Mountain
Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take The Water To The Mountain
Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!
song performed by by Yes
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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Isaac Kofi Frempong
You did not know how to swim but,
You jumped into the water from peer pressure! !
And you were immediately drawn by the heavy current of the river;
And now you are dead and gone oh Isaac Kofi Frempong.
Death came knocking at your door in disguise and,
You easily fell into Satan's trap! !
For you thought you could satisfy your friends with your showmanship,
And now you are dead and gone too soom in your tender age.
Sadness, your friends have nothing more to say!
Because they took you to a river in Akosombo on the 6th of March 2011;
And now they cannot wipe away the tears on our faces.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Rwanda 1994
The Kagera River rises in Burundi blue
It sweeps down from the highlands green.
But then why the river runs red?
Why does it look so sinister?
It hauls the bodies of the dead
Its currents carry your sister.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi green
It flows wild to Lake Victoria blue.
But then why the river runs red?
There is no change in the weather.
Yet on the waters float the dead
The currents carry your father.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi white
It drags trees and elephant grass green.
But then why the river runs red?
The day sunny like another.
Yet the streams tow and haul the dead
The currents carry your brother.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi blue
It flows through Rwandan gorges green.
But then why the river runs red?
Why does the village camp smother?
It hauls the corpses of the dead
The currents carry your mother.
poem by Paul Hartal
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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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A Musical Instrument
What was he doing, the great god Pan,
Down in the reeds by the river?
Spreading ruin and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat
With the dragon-fly on the river.
He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep cool bed of the river:
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay,
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.
High on the shore sat the great god Pan
While turbidly flowed the river;
And hacked and hewed as a great god can,
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.
He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river!)
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor dry empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.
'This is the way,' laughed the great god Pan
(Laughed while he sat by the river),
'The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed.'
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river.
Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.
Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, --
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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The Story of River Nile with Egyptian Women
Once upon a time in the beautiful ancient Egypt
The sun asked the river Nile
From where you got this golden color?
The river Nile said
It's the color of the Egyptian women skin
When they come to bath
I melt some of their skin's color
The sphinx asked the river Nile
From where you got this sweet taste? The river Nile said
My sweetness is from the sweat of the Egyptian women.
The pyramid asked the river Nile
Why you flooding up every year
The river Nile said
When i feel longing to have more women
The Egyptian men protested against the Nile
Please stop your sexual harass
They always come back asking for more
The river Nile asked
So do you give them what they need?
The Egyptian men said
Yes we must do..We can't resist their temptation.
The same with me
The river Nile said.
poem by hosny Soliman
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Aqueous Transmission
Im floating down a river
Oars freed from
Their homes long ago
Lying face up on the floor
Of my vessel
I marvel at the stars
And feel my heart overflow
Further down the river
Two weeks without my lover
Im in this boat alone
Floating down a river
Named emotion
Will I make it back to shore?
Or drift into the unknown
Further down the river
Im building an antenna
Transmissions will be sent
When I am through
Maybe we can meet again
Further down the river
And share what
We both discovered
Then revel in the view
Further down the river
Im floating down a river
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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