Boredom is in the mind, throw it in the gutter
The day seemed boring
Dull and dreary
I tried reading
Kept the book on the side
After a while
I tried gardening
That wasn’t enjoying
I kept cursing
That didn’t help
Passing time
Became challenging
Irritability increasing
Decided to visit the river nearby
Sat on a bench
To view the flowing water
Sitting on the bench next to mine
Sat an elderly couple
Throwing pebbles in the water
Laughing and giggling
Comparing who threw farthest
After some time
They got up from there
I could see they could hardly walk
Very slowly they inched forward
I ran to help them
Sit in the car parked nearby
They thanked me for my help
Asked, why I was there?
At the time
When I was supposed to work
I replied,
I was getting bored
To pass the time
I came to the riverside
Before departing the old man said
Young man goes and enjoy
Every minute of your life
Never feel bored
Always be on the move
Like the flowing water
Boredom is in the mind
Throw it in the gutter
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Related quotes
At The Rural Side Of This World
when i step out of my door
i see a road lined with mahogany trees
an empty wide road
but not that muddy really
at this rainy season of the year
i hear the chirping of birds
and the hushing of the wind
greeting me with the coolness of
an after rain,
the grasses are still wet with dew,
the paths still dappled with water,
the pebbles glistening
to the sunlit view of
the hills which are so green and vibrant
the distant mountains shaded blue
tall and huge their tips almost touching the sky
there are no cars here just wooden sleds
pulled by the cows
of the working men
at the other side of the river nearby
some water buffaloes are restive on
cool wade in their mud holes
their tails whipping their butts
to drive away the gnats
i am waiting for the bus going to the city
the only bus for the day
and it will pass by here at eight.
on the bench opposite where i am seated
three girls are giggling
a handsome boy riding on a horse whistles
at the one with the long black hair
the sun is shining brightly on an ordinary day like this
on the rural side of this world that i have chosen to visit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hospital Sadness
As I lie around in this bed
Absolutely bored out of mind
I have sad thoughts in my head
I wish that these sad thoughts were left behind
My eyes are flowing with tears
Like a river bank flowing with water
My mind right now is full of fears
Mentally, I am not at my best.
I am
Lonely
Bored
Depressed
Sad
Th is is not where I belong
I want to tell the nurses so long
This is making me sad
When I am out of here I will be glad
I am lying around yearning for the days of home
Where I am free to roam
And not to confirm to one place
I wish time was moving at a fast pace
I miss my friends
I miss my family
I miss everything
Once In A Lifetime (Same As It Ever Was) (Liquid People Mix)
And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful
wife
And you may ask yourself-Well...How did I get here?
Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money's gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.
And you may ask yourself
How do I work this?
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile?
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife!
Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money's gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.
Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...
Water dissolving...and water removing
There is water at the bottom of the ocean
Remove the water carry the water
Remove the water at the bottom of the ocean!
Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money's gone
Once in a life time water flowing underground.
Into the blue again/into the silent water.
under the rocks and stones/there is water underground
Letting the days go by/into the silent water
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground
And you may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right?...Am I wrong?
And you may say to yourself
MY GOD!...WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money's gone
once in a lifetime/water flowing undeground
into the blue again/into the silent water
once in a lifetime/water flowing underground
Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...Same as it ever was...
time isn't holding us, time isn't after us
time isn't holding us, time doesn't hold you back
time isn't holding us, time isn't after us
time isn't holding us,
letting the days go by(x3)
once in a lifetime
letting the days go by(x3)
once in a lifetime
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Togetherness was the goal
One day in the morning
It was cold and I was shivering
Enjoying the beauty
Of the snowy Mountain
Sun started rising
Bringing heat and light beaming
Snow started melting
Water started trickling
Down to the River
Flowing in the Plains
Slowly it mingled
With the water in the River
The water looked one
It wasn’t possible to Separate
Water from the Snow
And
Water from the River
Like lovers with two hearts,
One Soul
Togetherness was the Goal
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sitting By The Riverside
Just sitting down by the riverside,
Spreading my arms to the open wide.
Now I am free and the worlds at my feet.
I can close my eyes.
Oh love, keep me warm, keep me satisfied.
Please keep me calm, keep me pacified.
Now Im content and my life is complete.
I can close my eyes.
Sitting by the riverside with you.
I love sitting down by the riverside,
Watching the water go flowing by.
Oh, golly gee, it is heaven to be
Like a willow tree.
Spend my time just drinking wine while looking at the view.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Perpetual Stream Of Sacred Consciousness
I asked the mountain
You are very strong
you will exist till the end of creation
The mountain replied numbly
No, Nay, not so
the water can flow me and
convert me to a plain land
then my existence will vanish
I asked the rock
no one can melt you
the rock also replied numbly
No, Nay not so
the water can melt me
and I will be no more
I asked the trees
the water will destroy you
the tree replied
No, Nay not so
it shall irrigate me and
give me life
I asked each and every creatures
all replied
water is more soft, more rich
and more strong
it can destroy and give life too
it can quench thirst of all
and give life to all
I asked the Water
You are soft and mild
You are rich and strong too
The water replied
No, Nay not so
I may be dried at any time
It is poetry,
a perpetual stream of sacred consciousness
flowing ever and ever
beyond the stars and planets and
even beyond plenty of universe
The Poetry can save me and
pray to God for my survival.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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Inevitable for M 'lady Mary Gordley
The rugged rocks although they try
cannot prevent, merely delay.
The flowing stream which will pass by
and in so doing wear away.
The rocks which try to stem the flow
and slowly grind them down to sand.
This is the secret rivers know
theirs is the task to change the land
Although the rugged rocks maintain.
That they will keep their pride of place.
The water moves them grain by grain
until there’s very little trace.
They may endure for centuries
but water flows eternally.
The rocks succumb eventually
and leave the river flowing free.
Time also like a river flows
and wears away the lives of men
Though to what end and what purpose.
Men question time and time again.
There are some things we may not know
and that is why there’s no reply.
We only know it must be so
that in due course all men must die.
22-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Deodorant
Shampoo and deodorant,
The arcade and the pizza parlour;
Being merciful to him and her,
But it all came to pass! !
Do not worry about it,
For he or she does it all the time;
And your whisper is like a shock to me.
Flowing tap,
Flowing water,
Flowing stream,
Flowing river;
Elegance to the muse of your love,
But the heavens and the earth are watching us.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Us
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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342
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreamy River
There's a dreamy river flowing
Down the street from my house
I walk down there after work
But I paddle my way home
There's a dreamy river flowing
On every street corner in the world
And if that young moon is in the sky
She'll wink at you and let you pass by
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my refrigerator into my mouth
It only costs a few dollars
To keep those shelves stocked
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my mouth into my gut
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my wank into the street
There's a dreamy river flowing
In my mind as I lay to sleep
There's a dreamy river flowing
From a town I've never been to
Across this great country
And also from overseas
Sometimes from people's kitchens
Transversing time and space
I float down this river
Every night and day
There's a dreamy river flowing
From the hops and the malts and sugar
I call it my brother, I call it my wife
I call it my true friend
Let me float upon you dreamy river
And drown all these sorrows
That call to me from pasts I've severed
poem by Spencer Breau
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Being Boring
(tennant/lowe)
---------------
I came across a cache of old photos
And invitations to teenage parties
Dress in white one said, with quotations
From someones wife, a famous writer
In the nineteen-twenties
When youre young you find inspiration
In anyone whos ever gone
And opened up a closing door
She said: we were never feeling bored
cause we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
When I went I left from the station
With a haversack and some trepidation
Someone said: if youre not careful
Youll have nothing left and nothing to care for
In the nineteen-seventies
But I sat back and looking forward
My shoes were high and I had scored
Id bolted through a closing door
I would never find myself feeling bored
cause we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
We were always hoping that, looking back
You could always rely on a friend
Now I sit with different faces
In rented rooms and foreign places
All the people I was kissing
Some are here and some are missing
In the nineteen-nineties
I never dreamt that I would get to be
The creature that I always meant to be
But I thought in spite of dreams
Youd be sitting somewhere here with me
cause we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
We were always hoping that, looking back
You could always rely on a friend
And we were never being boring
We had too much time to find for ourselves
And we were never being boring
We dressed up and fought, then thought: make amends
And we were never being boring
We were never being bored
cause we were never being boring
We were never being bored
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Follow The Flow
just follow the flow
of words like the water flowing on the river
like the paper boat on the water flowing to the river
like the river flowing through the edges of banks
above the stones and pebbles of
everything swerving from mountain to mountain
of least resistances
the rocks that block your path you
just kiss them and then you go
following the flow again with the wind above you
just folow the flow of your thoughts in your heart
you do not even like to see
everything is smooth, freely flowing, taking shape
and form and having scent and perfume and so exuding
and then
an explosion inside well kept and taken care of
it is great, it is really great that feeling
so short and quick and yet so appealing
no one hears it except you because you
love it and so it has become so real
to your touch
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Force Powerful!
Drenched in rain while walking in the beach
I decided not to take shelter nearby anywhere
Because the rain would not stop so soon then!
I used to be careful about my shoes at rain time;
I have lost many canvas shoes due to rain water!
Otherwise I enjoyed walking in rain seeing sea
And the water running in floods along the road!
Which is most powerful - fire or water? I brood!
Fire and water are counter forces and dangerous,
In which man cannot survive long by anyway!
Water contains fire and most powerful of the two!
But rain cools down body and creates jollity
That makes children and elders enjoy in dance,
A natural urge nobody can refuse to accept!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Culture!
Culture is like a flowing river
it changes with time;
sometimes changes time too;
as sunlight, water, air and earth
change the seed into a sapling
plant, tree and also tree becomes dead wood;
Culture is the cultivated one
differently at different times;
There is no standard culture
We create, follow, recreate,
demolish, destroy culture
depending on our needs
and compulsions;
Culture is not stagnated water
It is a flowing river
And may become arid
Depending on our cultivation
Or negligence;
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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Unfulfilled Desire
He had greyed
Wrinkles on the face
Spectacles on the eyes
He saw her with probing
Eyes
Sitting on a bench in the
Garden
Reading a book near
The hotel
He was staying
He had come to the city
Four decades
After he completed
His studies
If not mistaken
It was she
Who filled his life?
With unfulfilled desire
She had also aged
Glow on the face
Had turned in to gloom
Slowly walked and
Stood in front of her
Seeing the light obstructed
She lifted her face
Her eyes remained
Wide open
She could not believe
It was he
She cleaned her eyes
To confirm
What she thought
Was right
Could not utter a
Single word
Tears started flowing
The man asked
How are you?
How is your family?
She replied
I did not marry
Slowly asked
In an anxious tone
Did you?
No
I also did not
Was the answer
Tell me
Why you did not?
The woman blushed
Said in a muffled tone
Because
You did not
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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0021 Under the bridge of time
Oui, c'est beaux, le jardin... at this time of year;
mais... for myself,
a little too overgrown – but Monsieur
prefers it that way… you see him down there
by the lily pond, the nymphées?
He’s nearly blind now, yet he’s out all day
and nearly every day. He draws life from the garden,
je crois; and though there are some who laugh
and say, his paintings are now
mere daubs, when I see them
and then go out into the garden,
there’s a truth there, beyond what we see…
what passes, what floats serene and unaffected...
what floats on time itself...
You may find this fanciful, but I’ve watched Monsieur
over the years: first he had the garden made,
when he could afford it, and the bridge and then the pool
that slows the river… then he painted the lilies which we planted,
floating on the water, all the colours
of sunshine as you see it through a prism…then he painted
the sunlight on the water… then
he seemed to paint the flow of the water
as it passed… and then he seemed to be painting
time itself, passing under the bridge
where we’re standing here, as if
outside time… and now,
qu’est-ce qu’on dit? I think
he’s painting the philosophy of time –
Monsieur Bergson le philosophe
agrees with me – in paint; perhaps
one might say, painting
the future of painting…
yet, the flow of time and death came first, they say:
Monsieur began to paint his water-lilies
after he had seen the photos of the solemn river
of corpses in the trenches
in that terrible war; even, it's said,
the same colours of the unburied dead who putrify
are the same colours that he sees
in the water-lilies...c'est étrange, n'est-ce-pas?
a sort of redemption in the painter's palette...
this, I feel, gives these pretty paintings
the vision that drives Monsieur
to find beauty in its opposite...
but it’s cooling now; Monsieur
likes to enjoy that glowing light of early evening,
the precious departing of the light…
the light of life itself...
I’ll fetch his rug…these artists seem to
lose themselves in what they see…
they don’t seem to notice passing time,
it’s as if they think they live where time is space;
or perhaps, time’s so precious for Monsieur
that he paints it running out…
but I mustn’t keep you, M’sieur Proust –
it was so kind of you to find the time
to visit, and you too, M’sieur Debussy –
it has been quite a day to remember, n’est-ce pas? …
and now for Monsieur’s rug…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The River 2
When I become bogged down with confusion
and I need to sort out my mind.
I go and sit by the river, close to the shallows,
it's the most peaceful place I can find.
I sit on the grass and listen to the flowing water,
and bring the curtain down over my eyes.
The sound of water being disturbed by the pebbles
takes me to a tranquil paradise.
I lose myself in nature's symphony of music,
as it takes me to places unknown.
My head clears of all troublesome confusion,
tranquillity finds a welcome home.
The ripples flow downstream with the current,
but their music thankfully remains.
A refreshed and invigorated feeling fills my entirety,
the river works time and time again.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Patience on Trial?
I wished we had arranged to meet elsewhere,
I think it's going to rain.
A park bench with no shelter is hardly ideal,
I won't be doing this again.
I wonder if she intends to keep our date
or have I faded from her mind.
At the time I thought she was really keen
and thought she'd be on time.
I know I was early, but that's the way I am
and I don't mind waiting a while,
but a while has stretched to an extreme;
I hope my patience isn't on trial.
The rain has increased in rate and size,
and it's absolutely pouring.
If my friends could see me sitting here
they would think me mad, sad, and boring.
Why didn't I think to bring an umbrella,
she won't see me at my best,
instead I'll look like a water vole
in soaked trousers and vest.
I think I ought to consider leaving
and get out of these wet clothes.
Well, what a nice surprise, my date has turned up,
despite a cold and runny nose.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Mississippi River Empties Into The Gulf
and the gulf enters the sea and so forth,
none of them emptying anything,
all of them carrying yesterday
forever on their white tipped backs,
all of them dragging forward tomorrow.
it is the great circulation
of the earth's body, like the blood
of the gods, this river in which the past
is always flowing. every water
is the same water coming round.
everyday someone is standing on the edge
of this river, staring into time,
whispering mistakenly:
only here. only now.
poem by Lucille Clifton
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