Early Dawning
Wend your way down to a euphonious flowing river,
With rippling water slowly trickling by,
Gaze up and view the branches of leaves that quiver,
As the winds that softly waft them, sough and sigh.
An otter lifts her whiskery nose to the morning,
And sniffs the energizing crisp fresh air,
Sampling aromatic whiffs of fish now spawning,
And finding something captivating there.
Two moorhens scurry, hastening through the rushes,
With flapping feathers, they quickly swim away,
Then a squirrel disturbs five happy chattering thrushes,
Leaving them cross with an awareness of pique.
A peaceful scene one finds at such early dawning,
Sunshine keenly struggling to break through,
When suddenly and without any prior warning,
A young fawn glides to his chosen rendezvous.
Lingering birdsong in this place is melodious,
One can discover such an element of calm,
Along its verdant banks are plants harmonious,
Which will no doubt, enhance its seductive charm.
Explore the winding rivers, in all their totality,
Consider the pleasure that this prospect brings,
Sit down and dream in this location of tranquillity,
Then seek out flowing streams and gentle springs.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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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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Shimmering Water
On the banks of River Rhine
Under the morning sun
And the blue sky shining
The gentle breeze rustled
Along the silvery water
Wooden boats sailed slowly
Accompanied by choir of bee
Which sounds melodious and sweet
The beautiful little flowers grow
Whiter than fur than snow
Full of smiles, looking at
Gold fishes that are playing
The wonderful rotating cloud
Which is the natural grace
Singing love songs in Spring
To the leaves are greenish
The yellow and red butterflies
Sigh shook majestically
Viewing wonders at
Water flowing
Under the shade of vine trees
Who is always shining joy
Always have cheerful dance with
The rhythm of the river water
Under the golden stone fountain
That herrings are gliding soaring
Engrossed race with the water flow
Kept mumbling and longed for freedom
Bouquet of lilies sways
Floating to the west bank
The shining frescoes never left
The goose that swims around
The cherry blossom
Filling the day with peace
Entertaining lonely grasshopper
With love poems of water
Petals of the dandelion bud sigh
As mysterious as the May rainbow
Reaching the vortex of flowing wave
Shimmering Water that never go again
(dedicated to a great pianist, Kotaro Fukuma)
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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The Daly River
By those northern river banks,
There in days gone by I wandered,
By clear streaming waters pondered,
Youthful hours were never squandered,
By those sandy verdant flanks.
Saw the rain in torrents falling,
Heard the native dogs there calling,
Saw from sea the rain clouds squalling,
By the Daly river banks.
Born upon a distant range,
All the streams that feed the Daly,
Flowing slow or tumbling gaily,
Come the rains it rises daily,
In a flash the seasons change.
Down the stony gullies creeping,
From the fissured hillside seeping,
Rolling clouds their tears are weeping,
Over all the monsoon's range.
Sheeting over flats and plains,
By the creeks clear waters flowing,
To the raging river going,
As the land the heavens sowing,
Ever heavy fall the rains.
Then at last the gloom is breaking,
Sun asleep in cloud is waking,
Mud upon the flood plains baking,
So at length the wet it wanes.
In its middle reaches flows
Beautiful and clear and gleaming,
By treed sandy banks it's streaming,
With life in its waters teeming,
So it ever onward goes.
Over rocky bar it crashes,
Past the jutting sandbar dashes,
Dancing light in flowing flashes,
Cool but molten - bright it glows.
As the season turns to dry
Slowly flows the Daly river,
Piercing snags in currents quiver,
Sunken trees whose branches shiver,
Where at rest their bodies lie.
There a crocodile is sliding,
Close by muddy bank is hiding,
As the river calmly gliding,
Soft the passing waters sigh.
Soon the river widens more,
There a rolling wave is crashing,
White with foam and spray there splashing,
Sodden banks the torrent lashing,
Upstream runs the tidal bore.
Waters fresh and brackish blending,
Eddies, swirls, and whirlpools rending,
Still the winding river wending,
To the distant ocean shore.
Now the waters grey and wide,
As her heavy heart is flagging,
Wearily her burden dragging,
In her race to broad sea lagging,
Battling the surging tide.
But there spreads the great wide water,
And from there to every quarter,
There's no force on Earth will thwart her,
‘Till whatever fates decide.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Listen to the Flowing River
The fisherman used to cast his line into the running water
And take what the flowing river allowed him to receive
Now he’s watching as the pollutants slaughter
No longer can he wade out from the shore, a time to grieve.
He looks down on the river sadly mourning
Detests the modern world that lives within
The river’s surface shadows a simple warning
A positive transformation must begin.
We must close our eyes and listen to the flowing river
We must open up our hearts and take one more chance
To take a stand, don’t yield, don’t quiver
Make a choice not to live in this world as victims of circumstance.
No longer watch as acid rain continues to pour down – to sorrow
Should not let our expectations fill with fear
Everyone look out to new horizons on the morrow
The lamp of knowledge is coming here.
Let the rejoicing ring out in the heartland
And thank the Lord and pour blessings on his name, amen
May the future be true for our sons and daughters – delivered with a helping hand
Listen to the flowing river as the fish swim upstream once again.
'2007'
poem by Robert Sheridan
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The Story Of Mermaids
Night plays winds winding, shimmying
Like thoughts
Thinking too much. This roar, rush,
Trees bent
Crying down.
Mermaids' twilight- misted warning:
Water Passage! Seaweed grasps
Senuous scales
To sea, winding, shimmering
Under Nights
Warning glow: enough fantasy...
Images seductive.
Once, you were chosen for Land.
No more.
Go.
poem by Elysabeth Faslund
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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
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Summer Day on the Current River
for Robin on our 22nd anniversary
The placid Current River ever growing
brightly shimmers in the mid-day sun,
its azure waters cool and southward flowing.
Buried caverns through the limestone bring
fresh fountains pouring cold ablution
into the placid Current ever growing.
Around the bend another rushing spring
bursts forth to lend aquatic motion
to the crystal water’s southward flowing.
Cheerful floaters revel, tanned and smiling,
celebrating pleasant summer fun
upon the tranquil waters ever growing.
Gentle breezes set the leaves to rustling
while time stands still for everyone
along the peaceful river calmly flowing.
Shaded skies foretell the day’s conclusion
and a stellar fantasy has now begun
to dance above the moonlit river glowing:
its azure waters cool and southward flowing.
June 26, 2009
poem by Robert Charles Howard
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Leudeman's-on-the-River
Toward even when the day leans down,
To kiss the upturned face of night,
Out just beyond the loud-voiced town
I know a spot of calm delight.
Like crimson arrows from a quiver
The red rays pierce the water flowing,
While we go dreaming, singing, rowing,
To Leudeman's-on-the-River.
The hills, like some glad mocking-bird,
Send back our laughter and our singing,
While faint--and yet more faint is heard
The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.
Some message did the winds deliver
To each glad heart that August night,
All heard, but all heard not aright;
By Leudeman's-on-the-River.
Night falls as in some foreign clime,
Between the hills that slope and rise.
So dusk the shades at landing time,
We could not see each other's eyes.
We only saw the moonbeams quiver
Far down upon the stream! that night
The new moon gave but little light
By Leudeman's-on-the-River.
How dusky were those paths that led
Up from the river to the hall.
The tall trees branching overhead
Invite the early shades that fall.
In all the glad blithe world, oh, never
Were hearts more free from care than when
We wandered through those walks, we ten,
By Leudeman's-on-the-River.
So soon, so soon, the changes came.
This August day we two alone,
On that same river, not the same,
Dream of a night forever flown.
Strange distances have come to sever
The hearts that gayly beat in pleasure,
Long miles we cannot cross or measure--
From Leudeman's-on-the-River.
We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day.
The green, the russet! seems it strange
So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!
Ah, me! so runs all night away
This night wind chills me, and I shiver;
The summer time is almost past.
One more good-bye--perhaps the last
To Leudeman's-on-the-River.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Pleasure
True pleasure breathes not city air,
Nor in Art's temples dwells,
In palaces and towers where
The voice of Grandeur dwells.
No! Seek it where high Nature holds
Her court 'mid stately groves,
Where she her majesty unfolds,
And in fresh beauty moves;
Where thousand birds of sweetest song,
The wildly rushing storm
And hundred streams which glide along,
Her mighty concert form!
Go where the woods in beauty sleep
Bathed in pale Luna's light,
Or where among their branches sweep
The hollow sounds of night.
Go where the warbling nightingale
In gushes rich doth sing,
Till all the lonely, quiet vale
With melody doth ring.
Go, sit upon a mountain steep,
And view the prospect round;
The hills and vales, the valley's sweep,
The far horizon bound.
Then view the wide sky overhead,
The still, deep vault of blue,
The sun which golden light doth shed,
The clouds of pearly hue.
And as you gaze on this vast scene
Your thoughts will journey far,
Though hundred years should roll between
On Time's swift-passing car.
To ages when the earth was young,
When patriarchs, grey and old,
The praises of their god oft sung,
And oft his mercies told.
You see them with their beards of snow,
Their robes of ample form,
Their lives whose peaceful, gentle flow,
Felt seldom passion's storm.
Then a calm, solemn pleasure steals
Into your inmost mind;
A quiet aura your spirit feels,
A softened stillness kind.
poem by Charlotte Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Raindrops
Baby, is it all right if I break it down and give you something romantic?
I figured since it's raining, this would be the perfect time for us?.
Can you hear the sounds of the, love angels calling us
Sweet violins and harps playing, then suddenly there's this kiss of trust
Hook:
Dapper then the morning dew, tonight has chosen me and you
And girl I vow to make everyone of your fantasies come true
I can hear, horns sounding, bells ringing, a full orchestra and a choir singing
The oceans calm and the rivers flowing, it feels so good, keep on going
Chorus:
Raindrops keep falling on our heads, as we make love
We won't stop, the rain keeps falling down, on both of us
Raindrops keep falling on our heads, as we make love
We won't stop, the rain keeps falling down, on both of us
Can you see the flowers blooming, slowly as the seasons change
The gift of joy is founded when I softly hear you call my name
Rose petals, and all these oils, surrounded by 100 candles
An eagle delivers a letter that says the night will last forever
Hook:
Dapper then the morning dew, tonight has chosen me and you
And girl I promise to make everyone of your fantasies come true
I can hear, horns sounding, bells ringing, a full orchestra and a choir singing
The oceans calm and the rivers flowing, don't you stop, keep on going
Chorus:
Raindrops keep falling on our heads, as we make love
We won't stop, the rain keeps falling down, on both of us
Raindrops keep falling on our heads, as we make love
We won't stop, the rain keeps falling down, on both of us
Through all the trees, the smooth wind blows then suddenly a rainbow?
And an ocean filled with white sailboats and huge waterfalls that overflow
See those in well ar
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chalk And Cheese
Around Camden Market, there's a lively pace,
But, just minutes away, there's a different place.
It's as though you have entered another world:
A whole new kingdom is suddenly unfurled.
There, you'll discover tranquillity and peace;
Life's hustle and bustle will suddenly cease.
It's a peaceful haven: a welcome oasis of calm;
It's a really special place, packed full of charm.
It was a warm, sunny day - perfect for walking;
On the benches, people sat reading, or just talking.
Along the canal, painted narrow-boats cruised;
Further upstream, people were paddling canoes.
Ducks and moorhens were dotted here and there.
At a Friesian cow sculpture, I stopped and stared.
Wavy patterns decorated the bridges' undersides.
For cyclists, the towpath made a pleasant ride.
As I passed London Zoo, I heard a waterfall:
Not what I expected to hear in London at all!
I spied some posh villas sitting atop the bank:
No doubt, the residences of the upper ranks.
Further along, the mood was suddenly broken:
It was as though the world had suddenly woken.
I heard the loud rumble of a passenger train,
And, through the sky, there roared a jet plane.
To follow the towpath, I just felt compelled:
Jewels like this, I never knew London held.
One of London's hidden gems, I uncovered;
This place, I felt so thrilled to have discovered.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The River and the Dam
The river flows down the hill,
Till it finds it is slowing
The dam stands as tall as a mill,
To stop the river from its flowing
The water accepts its fate,
Yet it rises as it waits
The dam stands it's ground
The river never finding a way around.
The river flows once more my friend
The dam did break and shall not mend
poem by Drew Fisher
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Helderberg Hill (Sestina)
You are the high hill with numerous peaks,
that in summer looks magnificent and cheery,
where I have climbed up to waterfalls, to heights,
where I got a view of sun, beach and sea,
felt as if in presence of God, with tranquillity
with your moods you remind me of a lady.
Once I wandered with a young lady
on a twisting trail among your high peaks
to find some inner peace, some tranquillity
and she was quite happy and rather cheery
gazing up at the blue sky, down at the sea
from both of those dazing heights.
Climbing up to the sheer heights
was like exploring the body of a lady
as if finding a secret kind of sea
with beautiful rising pointed peaks
and the experience was quite cheery,
suddenly leaving an own tranquillity.
My privacy is invaded by her tranquillity
as from far I still do watch her heights
and although feeling rather cheery
there is danger in this lovely lady
that beacons me with her high peaks
to look upon an endless open sea.
I long to gaze out upon the sea,
to be with her in tranquillity,
to wander among her peaks,
to again explore her heights
as if to visit a dear kind old lady
but I wonder if I will find her cheery?
But I must now continually stay cheery,
keep far away from the troubled sea,
avoid all of the dangerous heights
of live to be able to find tranquillity
but still the beautiful ageless lady
is luring me continually with her peaks.
How glimmering and cheery with ice her peaks
high above the sea, do glow from their heights,
she is without tranquillity, a chilly frozen lady.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Flowing Red River
I dive head first into the flowing red river.
It's acrid taste fills my mouth.
I drown in it's putrid depths.
My heart pounds and excitement grips.
As the flowing red river drips.
I cannot contain my growing glee.
I cannot wait to feed on it's bounty.
From down below I stand up straight.
I rise to greet this wonderful fate.
The flowing red river fills me up.
I bend right down from it to suck.
In and out I feel such love.
It cleans my soul flowing red river runs.
I feel it right now it's almost gone.
The pinnacle of joy hits like a bomb.
Yet I'm sad when the flowing red rivers gone.
Fear not though we'll always meet.
When the flowing red river comes to greet.
poem by Michael McParland
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If life’s a river
If life’s a river
Flowing on a course
Long proven to be the best way
To reach the sea, then flow on
If the rocks and boulders
Are the cross
Each one of us is given to bear
Let our river flow around rocks
Over time, the sharp edged rocks will
Be rounded by the rivers flow
Ever there, but not so jagged
As they were before
The ever changing banks have seen
A trickle grow into a youthful stream
And swelling into a mighty river
That sometimes mingles with another
Every river looks for a path
That’s less rocky, a shorter way to the sea
Ever quietly flowing
Ceaselessly searching
Until one day, when it is time
A new path opens
The river changes path
And yet, every river pours into the sea.
poem by Anita Atina
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Emotions, Flowing Down A River...
Emotions, Flowing Down A River
Now, Who Will Give Her
Desire, To Reach Across The Space
Splash Cold Water In Her Face?
Tragic Tears, Within A Pool
Streaming Hot and Torrent Cruel
Like Acid To The Touch
Hurts Her Hope So Much
Where’s The Rain, Clean and Cold?
Softly Rinse, Seep Into Her Soul
Her Crystal Drops, Dissolved Trust
Flowing Downstream, Far From Us
Emotions, Flowing Down A River
Now, Who Will Deliver
Courage To Reach Across The Space?
She Slaps Away Any Embrace
Can You Go Against Her High Tides?
She Dams Her Own Broken Pride
She Can’t Forget They Took
Her Every Bubbling Brook
She’s Gone Past The River’s Bank
The Strong Currents, Slowly Sank
Drowned The Confused Flood
Drained Her Own Life-Blood …
Emotions, Flowing Down a River
Have Mercy and Forgive her
Who Will Reach Across The Space
And Remember Her Fluid Grace? …
... Flowing, Down A River
poem by MoonBee Canady
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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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Weary Lad
Weary Lad
By: Adam M. Snow
He gaze upon himself utterly; not knowing, not knowing.
Should he ponder or sunder; but his words not flowing, but his words not flowing.
His thoughts a damsel, not quite a lady
His heart is young, his mind is shady.
But this girl he lust but lest he dream,
The girl he long the more she gleams.
He sought her again, once again
And once again, his heart speaks of her.
He gaze upon himself utterly; not knowing, not knowing.
Should he ponder or sunder; but his words not flowing, but his words not flowing.
He quiver with fear as she draws near;
This young lad's love is all he had.
Despair follows in the quake of his steps,
He waits for her with every pep.
He speaks only of her but dreams of her forever.
Surely these two souls are destined to be,
But he remains alone in the far distant sea.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Our Magical River
At the break of dawn we took a stroll
along the river of tears
It was a wild river, with a glittering current
To take away your fears
The river seems such a magical thing
With the forest set in it's front
Silver streams painted with variable flowers
It was like finding the treasure in a treasure hunt
As we walked beside the flowing river
It's ripples beckoned to us
Sparkling and shining, calling our names
With the sound of lust
Every river has it's beginning
But this one had no end
Merging together like long lost loves
as you come around the rivers bend
We stopped and stood
and stared in awe
At the beauty of the merging rivers
And the love for which we saw
Dianna Nally
and Debbie Wagoner
7/14/09
poem by Dianna Nally
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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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