Into The Lake!
Into the lake!
And, the waves just washed her away;
Because, she was enjoying the beautiful weather,
And, she was drawn in the lake.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mauthe Lake
Long scenic drive to her
a beautiful park and lake
enjoying the crisp fall air
the beautiful fall landscape
the peacefulness she brings
the huge lake so calm this time of the year
a lone canoe with two fishermen afloat
trying to make a few late season catches
the waves so gently wave
the beach deserted, a few hikers here and there
the scenery so gorgeous, mother nature at her best
as I stroll the trails, you could hear a pin drop
the slight wind blowing thru the trees
a few birds still chirping, a few heading south
a squirrel here and there
the brisk air feels good on the face
the smell of fresh rain tingles the nose
as I walk the fishing pier I notice a few fishes
enjoying the lake without hooks harms
so peaceful to walk her mighty landscape
clears the mind and makes you think
how such a wonderful place survived man
as the sunset on the lake, it brings a chilling breeze
night to all who came to enjoy her
maybe I will be back, who know
Mauthe Lake, mother nature's wonderland
a Haven for all to to have peace and mind
poem by Michael Peterson
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Qinghai Lake
Qinghai, Qinghai Lake,
Largest salt lake in China
Blue colour water
Blue clear skies.
Birds fly near the Birds island
During spring times.
Stand high and tall at 3,600 m
Weather according to season
Sunrise at dawn
Sunset at dusk near Qinghai Lake
beautiful colourful lake
seen from hill top
Many cattle of yaks and sheep at the hills top
with the nomadic Tibetans and their tent
The lake full of beauty and colour
beyond compare
Qinghai Hu,
Many fishes and plants.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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Across The Lake Unto The Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Across the Lake Unto the Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Moments At The Beach
flowing water, cool breeze
waves washing a shore
birds drifting in the wind
boats sailing on the water
people strolling along the beach
children playing in the sand
sun bathers laying a shore
swimmers playing in the water
volleyball in the sand
family picnics under the trees
The lake so beautiful
The beach so free
people being friendly
the life so simple for a day at the beach
Strangers, friends and family enjoying the lake
the simple things in life is enjoy nature and ourselves
poem by Michael Peterson
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I Went For A Walk
I went for a walk on the lake-side path today
And so disappointed am I for to say
That the lake is covered in blue green algae from end to end
To Nature few humans have been a good friend.
Fertilizer spread by farmers on their crops and washed into creek and drain
In thundery weather by heavy showers of rain
Cause blue green algae on the still waters to grow
Though others with more knowledge of Natural Science than I claim they know
That ducks help to spread blue green algae on a lake
Though the ducks side on this one I surely must take
For I do find that rather hard to believe
And for the pollution of Nature a reason to grieve.
For the health of our Earth Mother too few seem to care
Pollution of land and of water and air
And due to habitat destruction wildlife becoming rare
And too few 'twould seem are environmentally aware.
I went for a walk on the path by the lake
And I felt disappointed for our Earth Mother's sake
To see the lake covered in blue green algae from end to end
To Nature few humans have been a good friend.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Reflection of God
Thoughts are like ripples,
gently flowing over
the surface of the mind.
Deep inside us
we bear the image of God,
the ripples of thought break that image
into fragments.
It is as if you are looking in
a lake full of ripples-
It is a full moon night,
and the lake is reflecting
the beautiful moon.
But the lake is full of ripples
You cannot gather the moon together;
the moon goes on splitting
into a thousand fragments.
The whole lake seems to be
spread over by the moon-
the silvery beauty, softly broken apart;
many a fragments is seen floating-
all around.
Then the wind stops,
the ripples disappear:
those fragments start falling into one moon.
The silver that was spread
all over the lake,
now becomes more concentrated
into one place - into one moon.
When the lake
is completely without ripples,
the moon is reflected perfectly.
God is reflected perfectly
when there is no ripple in you.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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The rain and the lake
And the lake asked the rain,
Why do you overwhelm with your love over and over again?
The rain broke for a while for a thought,
and came back with more showers as the eternal play of love.
Rain said I came from distant land and oceans to meet you,
Lake said I have been waiting forever for you.
Rain said I am the true lover, I dissipate and merge in you,
Lake said Thank you rain, I am the reservoir of love,
I keep your love and share it with others who want it.
Rain said I am glorious, come with thundering dark to fluffy soothing clouds,
I provide the world with the nectar of life,
Lake said I am still and adore the beautiful mountain and blue skies,
I provide heaven to all forms of aquatic lives.
Rain said even when I am breaking away, I bring the beautiful rainbow,
I provide a bridge from land to heavens for thoughts to ponder,
Lake said I have overcome the emotions of joyful sunny days and dark gloomy nights,
I only feel happy when I am desired by somebody.
poem by Jay P Narain
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A Carp in the Donut-Shaped Lake
(To Akira Kurosawa)
Swimming in the donut-shaped lake,
The carp goes round and round,
While not in the ocean where waves break,
It is in way more it could want for surround,
While it is not such a make,
None can say it is no found,
For it emule with perfection the sake
Of an environment meant to be confound
For something bigger than lake,
As for here carp goes round and round,
And while at carp's mistake,
Carp finds itself around,
To what comes to partake
Ocean's characteristic abound,
And carp seems to forsake,
The reason to whom it is bound,
And takes for real the fake,
That lake is the ocean's ground,
For carp suffers the redound,
Of the donut-shape of the lake,
It learned to swim round and round,
In this ocean's astounding remake,
With no walls to put brake,
It reminds of ocean profound,
The donut-shaped lake,
Where carp goes round and round,
poem by Pedro Cescon
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Port Stanley
Lines composed on an excursion to port Stanley, 1883.
In winter time 'tis sad and dreary
For to gaze on stormy Erie,
But here in summer time this port
It is fashionable resort,
For then it is always cheery
For to gaze upon lake Erie.
Or on the steamer you can sail,
All independent of the gale.
Or here the youth can ply the oar
And view the fast receding shore,
And be happy with his dearie
On the bosom of lake Erie.
No one here need ever weary
On the borders of lake Erie,
With quadrille parties at Stanley
And games and sports all so manly,
Or bathe in waves with friends near thee,
You fear not storms of lake Erie.
poem by James McIntyre
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Depths [Adâncuri]
How smiles the lake and charms the eye
Under the sun's bright shining rays
When the blue image of the sky
Is mirrored by its sparkling waves.
And in the mud, in waters deep,
The fight is fierce and without break
For lots of beings fret and creep
When calm prevails upon the lake.
We smile deceiving all along
As do the waves which gently roll.
We look composed, but passions strong
Hide in the depths of our poor soul!
poem by Cincinat Pavelescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Life is There Where The Moment is Mine And His
It's a sultry summer day and here is a lake,
All around lies a forest with tall oaks,
We could feel the freshness of the trees,
We enjoy the green of nature and the happy birds.
Sun is setting slowly, its last shine is kissing the waves,
You are keeping my hand into yours and we are walking around the lake,
I have a great feeling, something i cant describe in words,
If exists a meaning of life, you are the meaning of everything.
He is rowing a boat crossing the lake,
Looking at each other our eyes meet,
Words are not enough to express our happiness and love,
Our silence is a romance in moonlight.
Phosphorescence of the moon in lake water,
Was reflecting in his eyes such brightness,
I can see the joy of his face, his magnetic smile,
We'll seal this love with a tender hug and a kiss.
We'll float on the lake took by the wind,
His arms wrapping me meanwhile we gaze to each other,
He is mine and i belong to him to eternity,
Life is there where the moment is mine and his.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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We went to a small lake, Bass Lake. It was beautiful. It was perfectly still when we got there in the morning. The fog was lifting off the water. It was just magical. And we did catch some fish, 13 fish.
quote by Jennifer Granholm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Fire Lake
Words and music by bob seger
Whos gonna ride that chrome three wheeler
Whos gonna make that first mistake
Who wants to wear those gypsy leathers
All the way to fire lake
Who wants to break the news about uncle joe
You remember uncle joe
He was the one afraid to cut the cake
Who wants to tell poor aunt sarah
Joes run off to fire lake
Joes run off to fire lake
Who wants to brave those bronze beauties
Lying in the sun
With their long soft hair falling
Flying as they run
Oh they smile so shy
And they flirt so well
And they lay you down so fast
Till you look straight up and say
Oh lord
Am I really here at lost
Who wants to play those eights and aces
Who wants a raise
Who needs a stake
Who wants to take that long shot gamble
And head out to fire lake
Head out
Who wants to go to fire lake
And head out
Who wants to go to fire lake
Head out
Out to fire lake
Whos gonna do it
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Price Of Water
The little lake, not far from the houses, has been
dry for years and is full of thistles and rubbish.
By, what was its shore, the sad rest of a rowboat
I remember it was blue, and someone had nicked
its oars; for firewood I take it. I used to row in
this lake in the evening catching trout.
When the moon made the lake into shimmering
silver my heart got quite wobbly by the beauty.
Last week I crossed the lake on my scooter, it was
not easy I lost my balance and was badly stung,
gasped for air, felt as drowning in a dry lagoon.
In the future the new commodity will be water.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Moon-Lake
i
the moon
crying
moon-lake
ii
war
comes early
and silently...
iii
the baby
smiles
at the gun
aimed for
it's head
iv
the smile
lingers
as life
goes
silently
coldly
v
red moon
crying
moon-lake
of blood
vi
the killer
looks up at the moon
and says of it
'it's beautiful
tonight'
vii
war
co mes early
and silently...
viii
the moon
moon-lake
poem by Jacques du Lumerie
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A Chinese Takeaway - for David with thanks
The ancient sage, beset with too many thoughts
for one human lifetime,
chooses carefully the place to sit
beside the lake,
under the even more ancient twisted pine
with the view of distant cliffs
where the stork’s cry echoes;
gathers his thoughts.
Out of mercy,
the breeze gently ruffles the surface
of the lake;
the sage, reminded by the ripples
of the stillness of the lake,
smiles from a mind that’s now the lake
reflecting the blueness of the sky;
reflects, beyond the blue,
the space in which immortals live.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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