The River and The Bank
I'm the river
I'm the bank too
There're times the
Bank revolts
Times when the
River overflows
Can't help...!
I struggle
And try reconcile
But when the river side of me flow
Into the sea
I'm an abandoned bank
And a lonely tear
Among the many tears
Flowing in the sea!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Related quotes
My river bank
The water hit the bank
Like a wave upon a shore
Happiness just out of reach
Finding that is something you can’t teach
No one to talk to
No one to see
As you can tell just me
I sit alone on my river bank
No happy people passing by as I let out a gentle sigh
I realized I sit alone on my river bank
Unreal happiness in this unreal tournament they call life
I sit alone, isolated on my river bank
I shall always sit alone on my river bank
I will always be alone on this river bank
poem by EmOzEd johnston
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The White Lily
By the river bank
The frogs croak and caress
Hoping along the river bank
From here to there
At a distant
The swallows twitter with fondness
The lilies rupture with the morning sun
The water reeds sway
As the wind blows along
The river bank
But yet....i feel lost
In this scenery of dexteric desires
I feel caught in lifes pedestals
Tender steps i make....
Along the river bank...
Lilies..
The white lily...
That symbolise
The purity of those souls
Enmeshed in lovesframe
The white lily
That symbolise
The fire that burns within circles
The white lily that symbolises
Long lost desires
Re-invented and rejuvenated
In this river of dexteric desires
The white lily
So white...so pure...
By the river bank
I watch the white lily float and dance
Along the river waters
Their is tenderness in the river
The fishes swim with tenderness
The waters flowing
With a lovers moan
Rythmic drums can be heard from afar
Magic everywhere
I sit and stare at the white lily
With a longing yen....
By the river bank.
poem by Jack Shaka
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No One Steps Twice On The River Of Life...
it is not the rage of this river.
when i was a child, as mother says,
i keep my finger inside my mouth
sucked by my throat, to keep hunger away
beside the bank of this river
i am the spectator
and the river believes in the magic
of my innocence
it flows always in a distant
affection,
it is not the rage of the river,
it is i, the grown up man who goes swimming
in the river and feel
the joys of its cool waters
always moving on towards
a destination
it is the swimming with a friend
and then
with a lover and then with a wife
and then my silence,
what we do not have we force to forget
it is the bathing in the river
the rinsing and the cleansing of the waters
it is not the rage of this river
and then we become too weak to be in this river
the river moves on and on
towards the deepest sea looking for the
opening
i wait by the bank of this river
many things have been missed
the more important ones
the one that gives the posterity of
my humanity
it is denied of me because of this river
that gives me nothing
all the while i was the leaf that fell off from
the tree
on the side of this river
and i floated because i have nothing to do
because i can do nothing about
the flow of the river
i become the dead leaf that the air
rides upon
tossed and bumped on boulders
till i sink
deep down the river
that i shall pass only once.
time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Watching The River Flow
Whats the matter with me,
I dont have much to say,
Daylight sneakin through the window
And Im still in this all-night cafe.
Walkin to and fro beneath the moon
Out to where the trucks are rollin slow,
To sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.
Wish I was back in the city
Instead of this old bank of sand,
With the sun beating down over the chimney tops
And the one I love so close at hand.
If I had wings and I could fly,
I know where I would go.
But right now Ill just sit here so contentedly
And watch the river flow.
People disagreeing on all just about everything, yeah,
Makes you stop and all wonder why.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
Who just couldnt help but cry.
Oh, this ol river keeps on rollin, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does Ill just sit here
And watch the river flow.
People disagreeing everywhere you look,
Makes you wanna stop and read a book.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
That was really shook.
But this ol river keeps on rollin, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does Ill just sit here
And watch the river flow.
Watch the river flow,
Watchin the river flow,
Watchin the river flow,
But Ill sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River Bank
Along the lonely river back
Where the trees would tower tall
And the earth beneath the sunken stems
Painted brown amongst the fall
Along the lonely river bank
There was shade within each step
A child waiting on the shore
While the clouds above him wept
Along the lonely river bank
The lonely child sat down
He found comfort in his whereabouts
And company made no sound
poem by Eloise Crowther
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I Looked and Behold
I looked and behold!
There stood two others;
One on this side of the bank of the river,
And the other on the other side of the bank of the river!
But Yahweh and Yahshua are your very best Friends.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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That Quick Little Brown Dog
that quick little brown dog
jumps over the fence
near the bank of the river,
it is not your dog,
but you happen to be there when it
jumped,
over the fence near the bank of the river
into the river
that deep river with a overrunning
of the water
the dog was struggling to swim back
to the safety of the bank
but it failed and the dog was taken away
by the river and
it was gone,
you wonder why until now you think about that
dead dog
it is not yours but it sticks to your mind
as though it is yours
somehow you think as though you own it
and that you feel so painful about such loss
and you cannot sleep
and then you dream about that quick little brown dog
that drowned
it is barking so hard trying to be alive again
you wake up
with lots of cold sweat
somehow you think again
inside that dream
the face of the quick little brown dog
that jumped over the fence
into the deep river
is yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Golden Boat
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.
One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.
Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.
Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.
Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.
No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Painter’s Agony
I want to paint that river
And the scene behind it
The boat and the boatmen
I know everything about
That river
My association with the river
Many a hundred memories
Evenings and sunshines
Floods and slow water
I have lived my life
On the bank of that river
I want to paint
Paint it with the most beautiful colors
I want to borrow some colors
From the colors of paradise
And I love the town
That lives beside the river
Old and dusty
Where shall I take you
In that small town
Every nook and corner
Shall tell you that it knows me
I want to paint that town
In colors of heaven
I want to carry a few children
And take them on a tour
I want to see the town with their eyes
And then go to the riverbank
And meditate for a while
Drink the wine of nature
And get lost into the world of beauty
And flow with the river
Enter every house
My heart throbs in harmony
With every heart in the town
Give me colors divine
Colors from the other world
For I want to paint
That river and that town
(This poem is about a small town on the bank of river Indus)
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The River
When my wife died I used to walk alone by the river,
but I don’t go near there any more.
Lost souls who had drowned used to speak to me
of the lives they had once before.
Every time I went they asked me to enter the water,
‘It will clear your mind, ’ they said.
I told them that I had never learned how to swim
and drowning is the only thing I dread.
One early morning I was walking along the river-bank
and the bank collapsed beneath my feet.
I found myself being swept along by the raging current
and saw my wife drowning in the deep.
Several of the dead I used to talk with held me under,
my breath expired and I just sank.
My wife pulled me up from the river’s depths
and a fisherman revived me on the bank.
poem by Orlando Belo
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On the bank of river! !
On the bank of river
Living here n there
Liking n luking around
Watchng the facets of dawn n sunset
Throwing marbles on wall
Making anodr colour there
time is gone
cramping to another halt
Hour glance is crazy
Making me glazy
Let's go to beach
Swim n swim
Till the hour halts
On the bank of river
Berrys in tray
Juicy n flavoured
Taking a sip of glaxay
Small piecess of mirrors
Falling n hurting the feet
New galaxay hour halt
Take me to verge of it
On the bank of river
poem by Somia Race
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Two Boys Fishing
Two little boys fishing
Cheeky lads in short pants
Sitting on a river bank
Sharing sweets and fizzy drinks
Wondering what life may bring.
Two teenage boys fishing
Now shaving in the mornings
Sitting on a river bank
Talking of girls and a first time kiss
Excited by what love may bring.
Two young men at a wedding
Hard working, friends for life
One the groom the other best man
Talking softly waiting for the bride
Who comes so radiant in white.
Two middle-aged men
Abundant with family love and work
Sitting on a river bank
Talking of mortgages, school fees
And of coming Government elections.
Two old men fishing, old and grey
Grandfathers looking back at life
Sitting on a river bank
Grateful for each other's company
Sharing life's highway to God.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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Dog River Blues
Well I first kissed you on a hollow log
Down by the river they call the dog
We fell in love and we vowed that day
Like the flow of the river our love wont change
Well we married that spring and we built a house
On the bank of the river where the rock juts out
Now the rivers still here but youre long gone
You left me and the river here all alone
I got the dog river blues
Ive walked holes in both my shoes
Now I still got the river but I aint got you
I got the dog river blues
Well the rain came down and the river rose up
Filled up the cab on my pickup truck
It came in the house and down the hall
And washed your picture right off the wall
Chorus
Well my heart still yearns and the river still rolls
And I pray someday itll bring you home
So if you change your mind honey Ill be here
Waiting on the banks of that oldog river
Chorus
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Is Like A River
Love is like a river
It twists from side to side
Most is underwater
And it has no tide
It cuts through rock
It cuts through land
It can take you in it's iron grip
Or take you by the hand
Love is like a river
No matter where you go
You'll always be surprized
By what it has in stow
So lay upon the bank
Of this lovely river
And keep him close by
So you'll never shiver
Then look up at the shining stars
And live from day to day
Never let the river dry
And life will be okay...
poem by Jessi lucas
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My River
Oh! My river
My cute river
Beauteous you are
In the morn, in the gloaming
Sandy is your bosom
Banks are grassy and pebbly
Pellucid little waves Singing and flowing smoothly
You are turned to a young bride now
Garbed in the glittering sequin of gold and argent
And flowing slowly arrayed in all your finery
And verily you are the sybarite!
I am at your bank again, my favorite hangout, where
I spent my childhood more often than not
Vividly return my memories of my nights with you
You were calm in those nights
Still you are, and the glory remains as pristine.
You are bathed in the moon light
How beautiful you are now!
The tiny stars are flashing and dazzling on your bosom
You are cradling thousands of them, as if,
It’s spectacular!
I am lying down, alone,
Looking at the zenith,
Gazing up the galaxy, within the clouds, and
Watching the Gleams of light
Coming through clouds’ cleavages
And vanishing into the river in the distance
The milky orb is almost in the horizon now, and
The golden orb started his brush work in the sky
I nestle down at the bank in the zephyr & gentle cold,
Looking at my river with her vivid golden water
Listening to the music of the foam-flaked waves
A sense of euphoria possesses me as I lie at the bank.
Oh! If ever I could dwell at this bank for years and years
A feeble music from afar fondles me,
As an accompaniment to my relishing
And I relax in the ebb and flow of the rhythms
But it aroused me,
My alarm clock chimed and reminded me
It is the time for work,
Oh! I am in the middle of the desert
Poignantly convinced myself, what a contrast!
No my cute river, No grassy bank, No Pebbly bank
No, No, Nothing, Nothing, but the sand dunes…….
The sand storms ……..
Mar 12,2009 - Hawiyah (Part of Empty Quarter – Saudi Arabia)
poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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River’s Utterance
River’s utterance
Known to both the banks;
Inform you river
Tell him that I am
Sitting on side of bank-
When boat anchor
Swimming is unknown
I am totally helpless;
How to cross river
All time day-night
High or low tide boat flows-
Crosses the river
O! Why the boat
You took him dropping me;
No life except her.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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The Sea Is Very Big
Do not ask me to be the wave of some vast sea.
I can agree though if you promise that the wave of the sea
Will but lose itself in the depths of the ocean and
Return again to the refuge of the childhood river.
I do not want to merge with the sea, for
It is vast, it has too great a pride,
And I am afraid of it.
It is bent on devouring the river
in intoxicated ravenousness, but
I refuse to be its victim: only
I can be its occasional companion
some morning, or,
May even go with it to the far distance
some lazy noon.
Provided it gives me the pledge
That each evening it will restore me to the quiet
River of my childhood, which I have seen
Flowing in my body and soul from birth,
That when I shall watch my river some winter night,
Sitting on its bank, it will fill this river of mine
With a new flood tide.
No oceanic cyclone
Only the soft drip-dropp of dew, like a musical tune,
Making the two 'bakul' branches on the bank
Mildly quiver.
Note: Bakul- A kind of flower tree.
poem by Ahsan Habib
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The Muddy River
I stand upon the bank of the muddy river in awe of what I see.
The river’s roaring waters stumble over each other, rolling beneath its awesome force.
The river widens as the earth crumbles into it.
The power of the river amazes me; its shear force astonishes me,
And its quick movements mesmerize.
My mind drifts with the waters flow,
Traveling further and further downstream.
poem by John Miller
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The Merri In Flood
The old Merri River in flood waters of brown
Is flowing on bank high on by Warrnambool Town
In and out of Lake Pertobe on it's sea going way
To join the Pacific at famed Lady Bay
The old river that is old even in time
That has inspired the poets and songwriters to rhyme
In the age of the dinosaurs the Merri was old
In full flood the river a sight to behold
In Summer by the banks of the river in the shade of the trees
The Indigenous tribes had their corroborees
Like the Seasons of Nature the people come and go
But the river on down through the flat country flow
In and out of Lake Pertobe and on to the sea
The Merri in flood is a great sight to see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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