The Duck Pond
There's a pond at the centre of the village green,
Where ducks, moorhen and coot can be seen.
It's a feature which adds to the character and charm.
When sat by the pond, you feel a real sense of calm.
Pond-skaters and other small insects on the water skate:
The surface tension supporting their miniscule weight.
Waving their heads, the long, lush, green reeds,
Provide partial shelter for a fish as it feeds.
A frog pops its head up and looks around,
Then slips back under the water with a plopping sound.
Darting this way and that, are beautiful blue dragonflies:
Their motion so quick, they're gone in the blink of an eye.
There's sweet gallingale, marsh marigold and watercress,
But, for me, the pretty pink water lilies are by far the best.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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At a koi pond in a nursery
When her fingers
lightly ripple the water,
a row of fishes
dart to come to investigate.
Fins cut through the water
and big eyes,
come to look
near to the surface.
Big and small bright coloured koi’s
dash past through the water,
while dark fresh water crayfish
crawl on the bottom of the pond.
The ripple on the water
rings out wider and wider,
till where it disappears in to eternity.
.
In my hart the sound
of the beautiful day resounds,
while I stand fascinated
at the fish pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Village Pond
Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.
Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.
The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.
Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.
Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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The Old pond
the brook stream out to the valley that looks
old and clumsy, where the old pond
rooted the crystallized water mixed with
droplets of rain
sweet melody flows with therapeutic chime
echo the silent moment of day; calling the
little Dragonfly to catch the beautiful flower of
Lilies as the jiggle frog spare high notes for
a choral rendition of song to lie
window looks open wide and see the monsoon
rain wait to play, now the moon wind has
just come as swing the twig of the sun down to
jump into the pool and the beautiful frog enjoy
its stay
fall back the roof that leak, the sun has reach the
meadow and say goodbye, leaving the pond
a sweet memory for everyone, the old that
return the new to become the only one pond
as you water the old shadow of the new glory; the
point has yet to flame the beginning of the new
and wonderful cloth of shinning vessel of
crystallize spirit living in you
witness the frog in the old pond; same melody
sang as the water flows into the stream of unending
face of today..........be on your way
poem by Antonio Liao
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Fetching Water
Come on now; let’s go fetch some water
grab a pail in each hand and let’s go.
Down the hill, to the pond in the holler,
then we’ll climb back up the hill with that water!
Everyone today has forgotten
what it’s like to haul water in a pail.
Every house must have a Jacuzzi,
and a big swimming pool, as well.
Come on now; let’s go fetch some water
grab a pail in each hand and let’s go.
Down the hill, to the pond in the holler,
then we’ll climb back up the hill with that water!
And our homes must have a green lawn
to keep it looking really good!
The water we waste on that green grass
could be used by the farmer to grow food.
Come on now; let’s go fetch some water
grab a pail in each hand and let’s go.
Down the hill, to the pond in the holler,
then we’ll climb back up the hill with that water!
Don’t waste all of that precious water.
We have worked too hard to bring it here.
We can’t live without that precious water
let’s be thankful that it is so near.
Come on now; let’s go fetch some water
grab a pail in each hand and let’s go.
Down the hill, to the pond in the holler,
then we’ll climb back up the hill with that water!
Don’t be taking the water from the farmer
without it his crops will never grow.
All of life depends upon the water
Don’t take it for granted anymore.
Come on now; let’s go fetch some water
grab a pail in each hand and let’s go.
Down the hill, to the pond in the holler,
then we’ll climb back up the hill with that water!
poem by Emma Beverage
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By The Pond In Shade
She sat down with you
by the pond
the summer heat
and dragonflies
skimming across
the water's skin
and the odd duck or so
setting down there
and she said
I want to have kids one day
and be a good mother
and make my kids happy
and meet their needs
and not be a moaning mum
like my own
and you looked at her
taking your eyes off
the ducks and dragonflies
and letting them rest
upon her face
and wondered how Rubens
would catch her
or maybe Renoir
and you said
I'm sure you will some day
and they'll be lucky kids
and maybe you won't moan
or chide too much
and then silence
as you swam over
her features
her eyes
her nose
her rose kissed cheeks
the way she sat
her elbows on her knees
the summer skirt
showing a little thigh
and she said
pointing to the water
we used to swim in there
when we were young
before mother caught us
with that Barber boy
but it was fun
and innocent
but she never saw things
that way
and then she smiled at you
and you said
wish we could go swim there
like that today
while the sun's out
and the dragonflies
are skimming
and the ducks are here
but she just shook her head
and laughed
and ducks flew off
but dragonflies stayed
where you sat with her
by the pond
in cool of shade.
poem by Terry Collett
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Coyote and Frog (Native American)
Coyote and his friends walked to a pond
But found Frog and his clan now living there.
“This pond is small for all of us, ” Frog said.
“ Find water of your own. We cannot share.”
“If you will let us drink our fill and bathe,
I’ll get you a warm blanket and a blue stone
That’s bigger than your fist, ” Coyote offered.
When Frog agreed, Coyote went for them alone.
Frog took the gifts and led them to the pond.
Later as they left Frog laughed, “Good trade! ”
In fact, Coyote stole the gifts from Thunderbird,
Now furiously tracking prints the thief had made.
Coyote returned next day to find the Frog clan dead.
He took his people to the pond. “Good trade, ” he said.
poem by Chuck Toll
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Your mind is like water in a pond
Observe the water in a pond
Keep it still and particles will sediment to ground
Only then the surface becomes transparent and clear
Our reflections we can view without a blur
When wind blows and creates waves on the surface
Those sediments will be stirred up and make the water opaque
Then the water surface is no longer transparent and clear
And our reflections in it will become just blurs
Our mind is like water in that pond
Only when still and calm it can be clear and strong
If we let external forces disturb our still and calm mind
By those things we will be controlled and beguiled.
poem by Henry Chen
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Frog Prince
look at the frog so small and cute
top to tail in his green suite
never dry not always wet
every child wants one for a pet
only the newt for a friend
swim in the pond from end to end
deep under water breath held tight
look at him swim such a delight
hear him call all through the night
a prince in waiting a king by right
leaping high jumping long
for his size he is so strong
from lilly pads he loves to hop
as he hits the water plip plip plop
see him catch the fly swallow swallow
with a blink of his eyes gobble gobble
look at the frog so small and cute
top to tail in his green suite
poem by John Mc Cudden
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Beautiful Monikie
Beautiful Monikie! with your trees and shrubberies green
And your beautiful walks, most charming to be seen:
'Tis a beautiful place for pleasure-seekers to resort,
Because there they can have innocent sport,
taking a leisure walk all round about,
And see the ang1ers fishing in the pand for trout.
Besides, there's lovely white swans swimming on the pond,
And Panmure Monument can be seen a little distance beyond;
And the scenery all round is enchanting I declare,
While sweet-scented fragrance fills the air.
Then away, pleasure-seekers of bonnie Dundee,
And have a day's outing around Monikie,
And inhale the pure air, on a fine summer day,
Which will help to drive dull care away;
As ye gaze on the beautiful scenery there,
Your spirits will feel o'erjoyed and free frozen care.
Then near to the pond there's a beautiful green sward,
Where excursionists can dance until fatigue does them retard;
And if they feel thirsty, the Monikie water's near by,
Where they can quench their thirst if very dry.
Then, after that, they can have a walk at their ease,
Amongst the green shrubbery and tall pine trees;
And in the centre of the pand they can see
Three beautiful little islets dressed in green livery.
Monikie is as bonnie a place as ye could wish to see,
And about eleven or twelve miles from bonnie Dundee;
It's the only place I know of to enjoy a holiday,
Because there's a hall of shelter there to keep the rain away.
Then there's a large park, a very suitable place,
For the old and the young, if they wish to try a race;
It's there they can enjoy themselves during the live-long summmer day,
Near to the little purling burn, meandering on its way,
And emptying itself into the pond of Monikie,
Which supplies the people with water belonging to Dundee.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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Waterlily
waterlily
waterlily
green my bottom is white eye do have the longest roots in this pond of brooks Walden the frog is not real heavy he is one of the young ones eye suppose he likes me he feels safe sitting me eye dew enjoy his company the things this lily pad does is float then dream of love the fish here got lazy they do not even nibble on my roots eye like to pretend to live forever its so cool when the sky clouds up eye no longer fear the rain falls from the white sky the drops not even disturbing my wort up top the frog shudders then relaxes letting the water cascade past him to the river is under us under the ground the underground river is found below the water line the water is not good to drink dark swirling blackish stench but here the life is clean the air is pure where frogs sit on these lilypads to dream of love in Walden's pond
poem by Charles Hice
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The Fishes' Message, Poet: Sohrab Sepehri
I went to the pond
Hoping to see the reflection of my loneliness in the water
There was no water in the pond.
The fishes were saying:
'"It is not the trees' fault at all.
It was a sultry summer noon,
The bright son of water, sat by the pond's edge
And the eagle of the sun dived down and lifted him up & up in the air.
To hell with our not reaching any oxygen from water.
And the glitter has left our scales all together.
Instead, that big light,
The reflection of that red carnation in the water
Whose heart, if the wind was blowing, would beat behind the layers of neglect,
was our eyes.
It was a window to the confession of paradise.
If you see God in the palpitations of the garden,
Make an effort and tell him that the fishes'' pond is dry.'"
The wind was going to visit the plane tree,
I was going to visit God.
poem by Mehraneh Hosseini
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Head Above Water
Lyrics: daryl hall, john oates, sara allen
Music: daryl hall
Oceans emotions yeah we all feel the same
Afraid of undertow and great tidal wave
May go under many hundred of times
Keep on kickin, baby throw me a line
C.c. sick, mai de mer
Try, try, try Im holding on, holding my
Head above water
Its so hard to keep my head above water
No never envy the big fish in da pond
Its deep and dark when all the surface is gone
My kind of humor kind of keeping me dry
On the horizon, water touches the sky
C. c. sick, mal de mer
Try, try, try Im holding on, holding my
Head above water
Its so hard to keep my head above water.
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blonde curly head
When you run joyous into the garden
the whole world lies open before you
while it's autumn, leaves are stripped from branches
and you look great-eyed at the small lizard
where it hides in a small hole in the wall,
and you notice a pool with big Koi fish
that watches you from beneath the water of the pond
and then you try to touch and feel
with your small hands and the water is cool,
while you catch a small frog
and press that animal against your cheek,
while it feels as if eternity is lingering there
and suddenly it jumps from your wet hands
as a strange wet thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Riverside Walk
The wildering flowers bloom beautiful and gay
Along the green banks of the water way
And joyful songbirds whistling merrily
With tiny hearts brimful of ecstasy.
And all seem perfect save for water flowing gray
But pollution is a common thing nowaday
And keeping rivers clean don't appeal to modern man
As it's not part of his progression plan.
From her nest midst water reeds dark moorhen fly
And she utter forth a shrill like chirping cry
A warning to her little moorhen chicks
To leave their nest and head for cover quick.
From reed built nest four young dark moorhens creep
With bright orange bills and as they swim they cheep
And head for cover towards the river bank
And hide themselves midst rushes green and rank.
I walked along in pensive solitude
And a quarter mile down stream from Moorhen brood
I came upon what I don't often times see
A mallard out swimming with family.
From mother duck a warning sound did ring
She beat the water with her flapping wings
And her seven ducklings her signal did obey
And dived under water and hid themselves away.
The mother duck was circling in the sky
Whilst all of the time on me she kept an eye
And her anxiety for her family did grow
And she quacked aloud warning them not to show.
And as I walked homeward in the gloam of day
The wildborn birds piped with the joys of May
And my thoughts were of wild duck and moorhen
And tainted water for man a shameful sin.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Blueflags
I stopped the car
to let the children down
where the streets end
in the sun
at the marsh edge
and the reeds begin
and there are small houses
facing the reeds
and the blue mist in the distance
with grapevine trellises
with grape clusters
small as strawberries
on the vines
and ditches
running springwater
that continue the gutters
with willows over them.
The reeds begin
like water at a shore
their pointed petals waving
dark green and light.
But blueflags are blossoming
in the reeds
which the children pluck
chattering in the reeds
high over their heads
which they part
with bare arms to appear
with fists of flowers
till in the air
there comes the smell
of calmus
from wet, gummy stalks.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Fishes
Fishes serene
Comfortable.....swim
Free these creatures
Swimming wild?
NO! ...in the fish pond
food thrown is man's send
Water changed
Beautiful his surroundings made
Greens provided
Friends to play
Fish in pond
In heaven of its own?
Truth?
A captive for the rest of his life
Even the fish
Pays for his comforts
In kind....
yet how serene..........
_____________________________ ___________
poem by Malini Kadir
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Ocean Poem
I am merely a fish swimming in a pond of darkness.
The trees are anemones standing alone.
Yet still i ride on not giving up
Not stopping at all til we reach the home.
We are all just fish swimming around
We do not take in anything other than the water we breathe
We care about nothing
Its only ourselves we see
that’s why I swim alone in this pond
I don’t want to be like those others
The ones who are all the same
Ill be fine just remember my name
poem by Courtney Tak
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The Eastern Swamphen
Invertebrates and slugs and such they eat
The water birds with big and ugly feet
You know them by their wild and distinct cry
And their legs are always dangling as they fly.
Related to but larger than moorhen
And with coots, rails and crakes they too share common kin
In or near water they are known to stay
And from lake or pond they won't be far away.
Midst water reeds they build their nests of reeds and grass
No work of art just an untidy mass
And three up to five eggs the female lay
With brown spots through the lightish buff to gray.
With purple under black and red on face
And flicking tails familiar to their race
Birds when once seen you never could mistake
They roost in ponds or reedy swamp or lake.
If danger threaten to water they retreat
The water birds with big and ugly feet
And you know them by their wild and distinct cry
And their legs are always dangling as they fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
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