Keep A Rhythm
Push out the boat and let us row downriver,
Under bridges and around each curving bend.
Dipping the oars as cleanly as we’re able,
And pulling strongly, to reach our journey’s end.
The currents are quite powerful as we travel,
And concentration has to be intense,
But we will keep a rhythm in the doing,
And on completion, thrills will be immense.
Push out the boat and let us row upriver,
Gliding through the water like a dream.
Such a sight, is this vessel when in motion,
As we together, make our way upstream.
In control, there can be nothing nicer,
Great fulfilment with each stroke that’s plied.
A Sunday afternoon of such sheer pleasure,
When skimming o’er the water, starry-eyed.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author2
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death of an Old Carriage Horse
I was a harness horse,
Constrained to travel weak or strong,
With orders from oppressing force,
Push along, push along.
I had no space of rest,
And took at forks the roughest prong,
Still by the cruel driver pressed,
Push along, push along.
Vain strove the idle bird,
To charm me with her artless song,
But pleasure lingered from the word,
Push along, push along.
The order of the day
Was push, the peal of every tongue,
The only word was all the way,
Push along, push along.
Thus to my journey's end,
Had I to travel right or wrong,
'Till death my sweet and favored friend,
Bade me from life to push along.
poem by George Moses Horton
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Fishing On The Susquehanna In July
I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna
or on any river for that matter
to be perfectly honest.
Not in July or any month
have I had the pleasure -- if it is a pleasure --
of fishing on the Susquehanna.
I am more likely to be found
in a quiet room like this one --
a painting of a woman on the wall,
a bowl of tangerines on the table --
trying to manufacture the sensation
of fishing on the Susquehanna.
There is little doubt
that others have been fishing
on the Susquehanna,
rowing upstream in a wooden boat,
sliding the oars under the water
then raising them to drip in the light.
But the nearest I have ever come to
fishing on the Susquehanna
was one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia,
when I balanced a little egg of time
in front of a painting
in which that river curled around a bend
under a blue cloud-ruffled sky,
dense trees along the banks,
and a fellow with a red bandana
sitting in a small, green
flat-bottom boat
holding the thin whip of a pole.
That is something I am unlikely
ever to do, I remember
saying to myself and the person next to me.
Then I blinked and moved on
to other American scenes
of haystacks, water whitening over rocks,
even one of a brown hare
who seemed so wired with alertness
I imagined him springing right out of the frame.
poem by Billy Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Eighty
Push the boat out, compañeros,
push the boat out, whatever the sea.
Who says we cannot guide ourselves
through the boiling reefs, black as they are,
the enemy of us all makes sure of it!
Mariners, keep good watch always
for that last passage of blue water
we have heard of and long to reach
(no matter if we cannot, no matter!)
in our eighty-year-old timbers
leaky and patched as they are but sweet
well seasoned with the scent of woods
long perished, serviceable still
in unarrested pungency
of salt and blistering sunlight. Out,
push it all out into the unknown!
Unknown is best, it beckons best,
like distant ships in mist, or bells
clanging ruthless from stormy buoys.
poem by Edwin Morgan
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inspired by Issa - Pleasure Boat
pleasure boat
we row to the
heaven in us
pleasure boat
waves of blanket
and passion
pleasure boat
we rock and row till we reach
the heaven in us
inspired by
pleasure boat-
on the mountain a deer
calls his wife
-Issa
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Push Push
Come take a ride
Or a slipnside
To sit astridengliden.
....Push!Push!
Please pull the strings
Bees use their stings
Birds spread their wing and
Some things...Push! Push!
A puss that pures
By settinspures
Is this his or her what stirs?
Now: Push! Push!
Unlock the sloice
Bring up the juce
Just let it loose..Producen
Push! Push!
Refrain
Push! Push! Push!Just a little
Push! Push! Push!A little further
Push! Push! Push!Just a little bit
Push! Push! Push!A little bit mooooore!
Ooh what a blow
Yeah, what a show!
Hey, one more throw...
Lets go now! Push! Push!
Another shot
We hit teh spot
Oh that was hot.. a lot
Now: Push! Push!
Refrain
From stick or stone
To the prick an d bone
Im lyinprone, Im nnnot alone
Push!Push!
With a whip and chain
Theres plesuren pain
And no venture, no gain....again
Now Push!! Push!
Refrain
Our fathers who are from heaven
When kings have come thy will be
done Forgive this day - our dailybread Give ahead!!!
Refrain
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joyride
i want to take a ride
on the long and winding road of life
travel on his stony path
never mind the problems
i do not treat them as stubling blocks
for me they are he stepping stones
to become better and so i ride
on bridges..oh sometimes i think
why some people create walls instead of bridges
bridges connect walls separate
yet on my journey there are so many
walls more than bridges maybe
these are some reasons why people sometimes harbor hathred
yeah i want to take a ride
to the mountains and hills of life
even sometimes problems that come
are not like hills but mountains
yet mountains and hills can be climb
if you are patient enough
let my travel floats me
on the vast ocean of eternity
over seas, and drifting continents of experience
i just want to be there forever free
to taste the salty water or the swim
against the currents for it is better
to go against for a purpose than to just
follow where the water flows but
lost your inividuality
or to throw away your dignity
let me take this joy ride
let me not gather moss in a hideaway
let me just be me
as i travel from here to eternity
where i will take refuge
and the terminal awaits me
and i will rest to begin another journey
a journey that nevee ends
where our loving Father caress me
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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One Fine Sunday Morning
A little more push,
a little more push
higher, higher
a little more push,
a little more push
oh, I'm almost there.
A little more push,
a little more push
higher, higher
a little more push,
a little more push
oh, I got it,
I got my shoe!
Oh,
what a fine Sunday morning
you and I comparing
whose kick is higher
beside this old peach tree
that we planted together
twelve years ago.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Death Sea
I am travel
a deep sea.
Along along
dream a he.
I show only water
and the sky-sun.
Air blowing slowly slowly
water boat run.
I show sunrise
and the sunset.
After noon on the high
sun on the head.
I am travel only one
god and are pear.
AM i looking sea beauty
only my earth.
I am travel, along here.
poem by Ashim Pandit
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His Boat
This boat you see, friends, will tell you
that she was the fastest of craft,
not to be challenged for speed
by any vessel afloat, whether
driven by sail or the labour of oars.
The threatening Adriatic coast won’t deny it,
nor the isles of the Cyclades,
nor noble Rhodes, nor fearful Bosphorus,
nor the grim bay of the Black Sea
where, before becoming a boat, she was
leafy wood: for on the heights of Cytorus
she often hissed to the whispering leaves.
The boat says these things were well known to you,
and are, Amastris and box-wood clad Cytorus:
she says from the very beginning she stood
on your slope, that she dipped her oars
in your water, and carried her owner from there
over so many headstrong breakers,
whether the wind cried from starboard
or larboard, or whether Jupiter struck at the sheets
on one side and the other, together:
and no prayers to the gods of the shore were offered
for her, when she came from a foreign sea
here, as far as this limpid lake.
But that’s past: now hidden away here
she ages quietly and offers herself to you,
Castor and his brother, heavenly Twins.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
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A Boat-ride, Surreal
there, there...down there
through a thicket of fog
beckoned a vacant boat
i fought through the fog
and reached a zone, misty
the boat pulled me as if
i were a piece of iron
i hastened through
the layers and layers...
there i was, at last
assured that it would
take me to the other bank
it wasn't to be
the gently rocking boat
began on an erratic sail
down down the stream
in its womb of deception
hid many a whirlpool
the waters jerky...
hey, what was i doing
sitting in a boat with no oars
nor knowing how to swim...!
'you're the boatman
you're the oars...
row row...
the other bank
a distant dream
row row...'
a song filled the stream...
18dec2009
0540hra
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Where are you going little girl?
the wooden boat
on one end the little girl with her paddle
a little longer than her frail body
then her mother and her younger sister
under a yellow umbrella against the sun
i can feel her firm tiny hands that hold the paddle
stab the river and stir to make this murkiness
she holds it on clear directions she struggles to push
the water to move the boat
as the sun scorches her brown skin
shiny and thin and yet so unfrightened
i am asking the philosophical question
to you elvi where are they going?
and you where are you going too?
do not answer me with the name of a place
it is the usual answer, tell me more about what i do not know
the one that stirs the river that one that pushes the boat
the one that must make the mother fold her umbrella
the one that must make the little girl stop her paddling
the answer that exhausts all options
the one that must make us shift our paradigms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sinking
Youre on a wide open ocean
No one around you for miles
Your thinkin of drinkin on water
While youre sailing the nile
No one to stop you on your way
Flyin by goes a stork
You decide to bring your oars in now
But accidently knock out the cork
Row your boat to shore
cause it is leaking and youre still drinking
Unless you cork the hole
You wont be sailing, youll be sinking
Not knowin your sinkin
You take out a bottle of rum
Swiggin a drink to the bottom
The bottle reads van monchinghum
Oars back into the water
You think youll sail on
But you cant cause your boat contains
Three and a half gallons
Chorus:
Row, row, row your boat
Sail your ship to shore
Youre barely, barely, barely keeping afloat
I hope that you wont drink no more
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Night Traveler
I am a night traveler
Travel all through the night
And my bed is a sailing boat
I reach for my bed every night
And take a trip places far away
To see new things and people
I travel past the harbors
Full of anchored boats
I travel past the beaches
With swaying coconut trees
I watch the waves
Embracing the shore
I watch the kids playing
And reach out my arms
Then I touch my own bed
Here comes a flash
And my boat is back
And I am back in bed
My boat sails every night
And reach home with morning light
Never did it anchor once
Still traveling every day
Hoping to reach
That unknown destination
poem by Selam G. Sekuar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night Traveler
I am a night traveler
Travel all through the night
And my bed is a sailing boat
I reach for my bed every night
And take a trip places far away
To see new things and people
I travel past the harbors
Full of anchored boats
I travel past the beaches
With swaying coconut trees
I watch the waves
Embracing the shore
I watch the kids playing
And reach out my arms
Then I touch my own bed
Here comes a flash
And my boat is back
And I am back in bed
My boat sails every night
And reach home with morning light
Never did it anchor once
Still traveling every day
Hoping to reach
That unknown destination
poem by Deepa Thomas
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The Sound Of Bye Bye
i feel at the last moment
the weirdness of the situation
time hangs itself
but you never smell the stinking dead hour
you see, i never had that snorkeling
it was too cold
the see blurs the fish
the rain comes heavily
and so i simply sit the whole day
on one of those rattan chairs facing the blue pool of water
beside the purple bougainvillea tree
i can't say i am sad
perhaps i am just too sleepy to remember anything
or perhaps i fall upon a chasm of the hours
and so i never remember the pain
the hours pass gently
it is already five in the afternoon
the boat arrives and
i am taken back
to the place where i do not belong
i keep on moving for motion's sake
no agenda, no place of destination
just an itinerary prepared by someone
who thinks that money must be saved
as i willing throw them all away
the boat sails upon a silvery surface
the boat has an eye
it is simply doing what must be done
under these peculiar circumstances
slicing the water
making the sound of bye byes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Had Been To This Sea Sometime Before (Catena Rondo)
I had been to this sea sometime before
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
it had been on a tranquil summer day,
I had been to this sea sometime before
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
the surge swells before it crushing breaks
while a tiny boat rocks upon the wake
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
the surge swells before it crushing breaks
with some shells and sand swept out everywhere
before deeper in the water we both dare,
the surge swells before it crushing breaks
with some shells and sand swept out everywhere
while you smile in a way that I adore
we hear the thundering on a distant shore
with some shells and sand swept out everywhere
while you smile in a way that I adore,
we both swim through the crashing pull and flow
trying to find a way back, a way to go,
while you smile in a way that I adore
we both swim through the crashing pull and flow
it feels if our world is suddenly gone
while still together we do struggle on
we both swim through the crashing pull and flow
it feels if our world is suddenly gone
while we do see only the sky and sea,
we are trying to get back, to be free,
it feels if our world is suddenly gone
while we do see only the sky and sea,
we are blinded by a distant kind of sun,
hear the engine of a fishing boat run
while we do see only the sky and sea,
we are blinded by a distant kind of sun,
as an unknown, sheltering bay we reach,
as we both stagger out upon a beach
we are blinded by a distant kind of sun,
as an unknown, sheltering bay we reach,
we embrace and you stroke my hair gently;
a rich boat owner looks at you, smiles at me,
as an unknown, sheltering bay we reach,
we embrace and you stroke my hair gently,
we ride on a boat that rocks up and down,
but still we are in a world our very own
we embrace and you stroke my hair gently
we ride on a boat that rocks up and down,
I had been to this sea sometime before,
while we kiss each other and kiss some more;
we ride on a boat that rocks up and down,
I had been to this sea sometime before
where water stretch out beyond from the bay,
it had been on a tranquil summer day;
I had been to this sea sometime before.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Lake
Water lilies load all over
The blue lake amid the woods,
That imparts, while in white circles
Startling, to a boat its moods.
And along the strands I‘m passing
Listening, waiting, in unrest,
That she from the reeds may issue
And fall, gently, on my breast;
That we may jump in the little
Boat, while water‘s voices whelm
All our feelings; that enchanted
I may drop my oars and helm;
That all charmed we may be floating
While moon‘s kindly light surrounds
Us, winds cause the reeds to rustle
And the waving water sounds.
But she does not come; abandoned,
Vainly I endure and sigh
Lonely, as the water lilies
On the blue lake ever lie.
poem by Mihai Eminescu from Poems (Poesii) (September 1876), translated by Dimitrie Cuclin
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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