School Memories
Born on the bank my school
Bathed in cool breeze of river Varaha
Fanned dry by coconut groves.
Blessing inside the premises
A seasoned ExamPillaiyar.
Commencement of assembly my voice to lead
Followed by the rest in increased volume
Litanies dispersing the air
Penned the pupils in respective classes
Class-rooms old and new and mine
Holding a Badam tree at its feet
Clothed full of caterpillars
And they creeping inside bit me for a year
Anyway to the bitten me
Flapped colourful wings my teachers
To fly up to catch the Rainbow
SHARADHA
Flowed flooded river between home and school
Sharadha though otherwise calm then a gullible fool
Bridge was a round about way
Hasty Sharadha got drowned in great dismay
Pupils assembled for prayer
Then heard a screaming from the river
Sharadha's! Sent atonce the school the peon
Was Sharadha rescued from a mile on
A lesson for everybody
Ashamed Sharadha unable to look at anybody
Needn't have happened to a soft Sharadha
Shy and shivery was the real Sharadha
'Belated for the exam' was her fear
So did she get into the river
Unwilling the bridge-way chose the river-way
Wisdom then failed anyway
Hasty ventures may better be averted
Else may better be alerted
Rosy memories are sometimes thorny
Like Sharadha at times twinging me
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The River of Me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
That Cheyenne Bodie was ten feet tall
His voice so deep it filled a hall
And that was who I dreamed I’d be
Until Cochise came on the scene
There was ice on the river and ice on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
The fields were full of cows, corn or wheat
The air was thick with bees and heat
The summer lasted all year long
I never knew til it was gone
And then of course came that high school girl
Her glances made my river swirl
More complex than the universe
I never knew what she’d do next
There was light on the river and light on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
And up we soared towards the sky
Through songs and dancing by and by
My waterfalls and waves ran high
For just the winking of an eye
And in the distance the quiet sea
was waiting on the river me
And on the banks the weeds grew tall
Where rusting leaves began to fall
Now there’s night on the river and night on the pond
And the singing nun is long since gone
There are trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And memories in the river of me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
Where Is The River?
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or somewhere elseÂ
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or hidden under the ground
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or safe inside the cave
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or still far away
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or up above the cloud
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or out of our reach
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or trickling on the rock
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or gathering in the pool
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or down over the cliff
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or just sight of illusionÂ
Where is the river?
Is it here
Running in your eyes
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or sudden flood in the road
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Anim
I was born by the river and l live by this river,
For at the age of five i fell in love to the river.
I was married at the age of fifteen to a fisherman,
And i've never been to school before;
But my only education is with this river.
The name of my husband is Anim and,
We live by this river;
For my birth and life are all based by this river!
But today, i am old with my children born on this river.
At dawn i go out with my canoe to catch some fish,
And i have a hook to catch some fish at daylight as well;
For this river had been my life ever since.
My husband is a fisherman and,
I was married to him at fifiteen;
And we've lived all our lives on this river.
This is my home and homw of my children,
This is my way of life and of the people around me,
For this river is all that i know in this world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Tall Story part two
There is a bridge that crosses over a river
A river that is eerie and makes you quiver
With the light of the moon the river will gleam
and a boat will go sailing, on its own down
stream. The mist will come from out of the trees
and horrible sounds can be heard in the breeze.
It sounded like cats caught up in a fight a claim
for territory in the dead of night, but cats never fight
on the waters edge just in case they fall over the ledge.
A river bank full of matted reeds where plants had died
without dispersing their seeds.A man dressed in green
who paddles the stream who can be seen clear in the
moonlit beam.Sometimes you hear him digging on
the side of the river bank, could this be true or is it
some sort of a prank
A river full of alge green and that's how it had
always been. No carp, no bream no fish to fish not
even a place for a secret wish.
No river bank wildlife to give it grace, just run over the
bridge and get out of this place.
The story tells of a robber who stood about three feet
tall and because of his height he couldent climbe over
the wall. Now behind the wall was the river which spread
down far and wide and the man in green had a problem
because he could'nt get to the other side.So he hid the
loot inside his boot and started to dig under the wall
but as he dug the water flooded in and he sank to
the bottom of the pool.
Apart from one thing he could not swim and the weight
of the loot that was in his boot no doubt made him take
root.If you go to the river and see the man in green, then
please come back and tell us what you have seen.
This is a tall story one with a short tale, I am sorry it
didn't excit you, but my next one wont fail.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Paradise
Slipped into sleep.Mind got into whirls.
What a fantastic place mine was!
River Varaha from the western hills
Into my village bifurcating north and south!
Mango orchards, coconut groves, crossed streets with
Two water-falls, two hillocks and my school
All in order on one bank, very chill.
A big tank sorrounded with paddy fields
Green swarded with dayfull iciness
On the other bank along with big temples
Civil court, elementary school, post-office,
Cinema theatres, hospital, and 'agraharam'houses.
In my vista are the cows back home
After grazing over a grassy roam.
'Aadu paalam'(dancing bridge) is shakily strong.
'Pudhu paalam'(new bridge) widens very strong.
Ah, my music master with his syllables
'SaRiGaMaPaDhaNi'..'hey, hey! 'I'm nudged
To answer Paradise, Paradise, Paradise!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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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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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 River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
It’s this river full of blood where my victory will soon come
The river of blood, the river that will soon contain me
It’s this river where my blood has long sought to be
The river of blood that shall soon end with an atrocious fight
The river of blood, the river that will no longer stay at sight.
poem by Marria Attar
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Visit to Orcha: A visual exploration
River and tree look on morning town
And on the bridge and men and women
With loads of firewood from the forest
A bare-bodied man has sun on face.
Off the bridge a wizened old man
With saffron cloth drying on river rocks
Bends exquisitely with age and beauty.
A woman in red bathes on the river bed.
In the distance is the bank and history’s spires
On the bank a woman pours water in river
From a steel pot in oblation, to the sun.
As the sun glistens on the shaken river
River beats rocks in soft steady rhythm.
Men stand on the river frozen in time
Joyful women hide on the river’s rim
Waiting to burst forth in celebration.
A holy man stands tall on the rocks
Drying a red loin cloth, his hair mat loose
A boy silhouette crouches near the holy man.
On the tall mound sits the crooked holy man
Against the brilliant morning sun, waiting
To be captured on somebody’s digital lens.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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When The River Flowed
When The River Flowed
© 2011 (Jim Sularz)
Dedicated to my Brother-in-Law: William L. Browne III (1959-2011)
Let it be known, in memoriam, that he is loved.
And any earthly bonds that shaped his soul,
is now a wide river flowing,
to a distant Heaven bestowed.
He could have walked a much longer path,
and would have paused again, with a hearty laugh.
But, when the river flowed, when the river flowed,
– it marked this hour, for him to go.
Don’t cry for him, with welling tears upset,
but celebrate his fulfilled years, instead.
When the river flowed, when the river flowed,
- it moved his gift of life ahead.
For loving sons, family, friends and beloved wife,
he leaves cherished memories, a faithful man’s insight.
And when the river flowed, when the river flowed,
- it moved him gently, to Everlasting Life!
poem by Jim Sularz
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School Just School
School we need it
school, friends
school you have teachers
school is great
high school is even better
college, PARITES
school you mite find your true love
new experiences everyday
school, dances
school just school
school who dose not love it
school is fun
school, preps
school, classes
school, math, science, computer classes
school is great love it
school just school
we need school
poem by Kerri King
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Right Across The River Bend
Right across the river bend there’s a warm gentle breeze.
Right across the river-bend are trees with yellow leaves.
Right across the river bend the water reflects the sun.
Right across the river bend is a smell of innocence.
Right across the river bend a robin’s egg is broken.
Right across the river-bend are peaceful mountain valleys.
Right across the river bend a dandelion is carried.
Right across the river bend are fields of shiny green grass.
Right across the riverbend are memories made to last.
poem by Alicia Page
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River Of Tears
Its three miles to the river
That would carry me away,
And two miles to the dusty street
That I saw you on today.
Its four miles to my lonely room
Where I will hide my face,
And about half a mile to the downtown bar
That I ran from in disgrace.
Lord, how long have I got to keep on running,
Seven hours, seven days or seven years?
All I know is, since youve been gone
I feel like Im drowning in a river,
Drowning in a river of tears.
Drowning in a river.
Feel like Im drowning,
Drowning in a river.
In three more days, Ill leave this town
And disappear without a trace.
A year from now, maybe settle down
Where no one knows my face.
I wish that I could hold you
One more time to ease the pain,
But my times run out and I got to go,
Got to run away again.
Still I catch myself thinking,
One day Ill find my way back here.
Youll save me from drowning,
Drowning in a river,
Drowning in a river of tears.
Drowning in a river.
Feels like Im drowning,
Drowning in the river.
Lord, how long must this go on?
Drowning in a river,
Drowning in a river of tears.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Do Not Ask Me How A River Feels
children bathe in the river.
we were children once, we bathe in the river
we float and go with the flow of the river
we lied to mother we were afraid of father
but we were children once and we bathed in the river
we all know how a river felt
throughout our bodies
time runs like a river how many times shall i tell you that
we had mud all over
we were once children we grow to be men
strong arms and swift feet
we caught fish
we claim to be men with responsibilities
we are still children at heart we still feel the rivers running on our skins
i know, i still know how a river feels
time does not know how to kill the feel of rivers
do not ask me then if i have forgotten the river
we are men with responsibilities we have gone away
far from what we are
the river still flows and it will never stop
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That Old River
Look at that old river, sitting there so still
Full of fear, almost frightening - got to get
to that old river tonight somehow.
Freedom calls for me tonight, dreams only of old
dusty fields - no more, no more at last - got
to get to that old river somehow.
Is that biscuits I smell in that old kitchen - not
tonight I cry - across that old river tonight before
I die. Out the door I began feeling the warm breeze
in the air. Oh Lord! Help me to make it there.
With each step my feet got heavier and heavier - holding
my breath, scared to death. It's just me and you Lord,
sure can't turn back from this journey now.
This night seem longer somehow - suddenly I could hear
voices from afar - must be getting closer I sigh. Come
on over I heard someone cry, got to get across this old
river, freedom before I die.
Slowly, down the river we went, my heart gave a big sigh.
Suddenly, the boat hit solid ground - I jumped up
Hallelujah! Lord! I made it to the other side.
As I began to look back at that old river, it didn't seem
so big at all. Good-bye Old River, Old River Good-bye
poem by Cassandra Mitchum
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A School Is So Not Cool
School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it every day.
We can’t go on the grass
We can’t bother another class
We can’t save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
They have too many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have class work
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!
poem by Fahed Sharaf
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Hey What's Next School Is Over
School is over and I got no summer school
I passed all my classes because I am not a fool
Throughout the school year many students wanted to be cool
Now they're in a summer program where all teachers rule
I no longer have to wake up early in the A.M
I worked my way through and passed my final exam
What more can I say for the great I am
I am truly blessed so I have to confess
Unlike others I didn't end up in some summer school mess
Sorry summer schoolers not being mean I just had to get it off my chest
poem by Wolkine Stany
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No more school
No more school
No more school no sitting
It is the time to play
Let’s go to the river bank
And make doll with clay.
Keep all the books away
Let’s go to the field
With grass and shrubs
A beautiful hut we build.
From the top of the tree
Let’s count cloud
Getting rid of exam worry
Let’s sing aloud.
poem by Binoy Barman
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The Tiber River
The traffic ran one way
Down the old main drag
As I stood on the bridge of the Tiber River
The traffic ran one way
Down the old main drag
And I gazed at the ruins all scattered ‘round
And there were boards on the windows
Of the musty old houses
And they were ruins, all scattered ‘round
The wind was a-blowing
It was late September
As I stood on the bridge of the Tiber River
The window was a-howling
It was late September
And I gazed at the leaves on the soft, dirty ground
And I cursed on each one
That jumped down off each tree
There were ruins all scattered ‘round
The waves were rolling
If I remember
As I stood on the bridge of the Tiber River
The waves they were rolling
If I remember
And the river’s waters ran ragged and brown
The salt of the ocean
Was in my cuts and my bruises
There were ruins all scattered ‘round
I allow I’ll come back
Sometime in summer
Just to stand on the bridge of the Tiber River
I allow I’ll come back
Some day, and some summer
If I make enough money in town
And I’ll lay down and die
On the soft, dirty ground
With the rest of the ruined old things scattered ‘round
poem by Patrick O'Reilly
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Moonlight river.
moonlight river the eyes are shineing bright.
moonlight river love her with all you might.
moonlight river the darkness is falling.
moonligh river is there such thing off morning.
moonlight river makes my head sway.
moonlight river voice off the ocean on a sand beach bay.
moonlight river i think off her night and day.
moonlight river bring her back to me today.
moonlight river the star's are shineing bright.
moonlight river she is back with such delight.
moonlight river never let her go.
moonlight river tell her i love her so.
moolight river tear's in her eye.
moonlight river why did i have to die.
poem by Neil Derek Singleton
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