A Brook In The City
in my heart
a river runs
alluvial, fishes,
leaves, flowers and all
a catfish winds
its way up to the surface
shows its pinkish whiskers
and round mouth
and down in a fleet second
puyu splash
their way down
after a fall
bubble, splash, bubble, splash,
big fish, small fish,
breakdance
down the river
their only way to show
joy and gratitude
for nature's care
like a gymnast
they turn their tails up
bend and sweep
the water swivels
and down they go
head plunging
the river a stage
of tail splashing game
how the world has changed since
thirty years the sweep of a puyu's tail
i could still collect that childhood heart
that had gone afflutter
the river that has changed course
to run through my heart
calming nerves and evoking childhood joy
the river now buried deep
in the town's memory
the river now imprisoned
caged between cement walls
no more fishes, no more splashdance, breakdance
red water, blooms and leaves!
the river that now only has me as its fish
splashing every now and then
to let its sweetness flow forth
the river now buried deep in the earth
in the city's mind
inspired by
A Brook In The City
The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear
A number in. But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
And impulse, having dipped a finger length
And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
The meadow grass could be cemented down
From growing under pavements of a town;
The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
How else dispose of an immortal force
No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid darkness still to live and run -
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
If from its being kept forever under,
The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.
Robert Frost
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
A Brook In The City
The farmhouse lingers, though averse to square
With the new city street it has to wear
A number in. But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow-crook?
I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength
And impulse, having dipped a finger length
And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed
A flower to try its currents where they crossed.
The meadow grass could be cemented down
From growing under pavements of a town;
The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.
Is water wood to serve a brook the same?
How else dispose of an immortal force
No longer needed? Staunch it at its source
With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid darkness still to live and run --
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
No one would know except for ancient maps
That such a brook ran water. But I wonder
If from its being kept forever under,
The thoughts may not have risen that so keep
This new-built city from both work and sleep.
poem by Robert Frost
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Down in the deep water..
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I ponder my life
Just how did I get to this
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where the waterfall of dreams
Sweeps away what’s left to the abyss
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where time stands still
just only forever.
Down in the deep water
By the edge of the river
Where I buried all
That was ever my childhood
Where I let it go,
Where it bends and meanders,
Twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
Were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current
Down in the deep water,
I left the edge of the river,
As I looked down
For my soul at the bottom.
Deep in the deep water
Swept away by the river
I drowned in life,
......Sinking forever.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Sinking..
Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where I ponder my life
just how did I get to this
Down in the water
By the edge of the river
where the waterfall of dreams
sweeps away what’s left to the abyss
Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where time stands still
Just only forever.
Down in the water
by the edge of the river
where I buried all
that was ever childhood
Where I let it go,
where it bends and meanders,
twisting along as the years went past.
Seemingly calm, but screaming beneath the surface
were its hidden whirlpools, a sweeping current
Down in the water,
I left the edge of the river,
as I looked down
for my soul at the bottom.
Deep in the water
Swept away by the river
I drowned in life,
......sinking forever.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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A River Flows
Where does the river flow
if not to you?
How deep its depths
if these
are not yours?
How broad is the river bank?
Broad enough
for the tug-boats
to push my heart along.
If there are fish in the river,
they sing your name
open-mouthed,
fish-style,
making tiny bubbles float
up, up to the river surface
where they pop
spread
announcing to the Firmament
that Love lives just below
the deep river flows.
Yes, you and I
are the river;
we flow,
run deep
down to that
ocean-mix
in which
our souls
swirl.
Mix me then
in depths deep.
Mix you then
amid this ocean sweep
and all else,
for me
becomes meaningless
so great
is our Soul Mixed
Ocean Bliss.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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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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Washing Of The Water
River, river carry me on
Living river carry me on
River, river carry me on
To the place where I come from
So deep, so wide, will you take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall, would you swallow me deep inside
River, show me how to float
I feel like Im sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water
My feet wont touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
Going away, away towards the sea
River deep, can you lift up and carry me
Oh roll on though the heartland
til the sun has left the sky
River, river carry me high
til the washing of the water make it all alright
Let your waters reach me like she reached me tonight
Letting go, its so hard
The way its hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with thing
cause if I follow through
I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide
River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Themes
This river is more than just water
This river is in every building, every stone every mortar
This river is an emotion not to be summed up in words
Only to be felt by those who have seen the life it holds
This river is the stars that shine off its suffice at night
The twinkling of an everlasting light
A show of strength, a show of might
A show that only the river can be right
For millions of years London has changed
But only one thing has ever been sustained
It kept the city moving so its never the same
That's why London owes its life to this ever pumping vein
poem by William Cheesman
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The Fickle Breeze
Sighing softly to the river
Comes the loving breeze,
Setting nature all a-quiver,
Rustling through the trees!
And the brook in rippling measure
Laughs for very love,
While the poplars, in their pleasure,
Wave their arms above!
River, river, little river,
May thy loving prosper ever.
Heaven speed thee, poplar tree,
May thy wooing happy be!
Yet, the breeze is but a rover,
When he wings away,
Brook and poplar mourn a lover!
Sighing well-a-day!
Ah, the doing and undoing
That the rogue could tell!
When the breeze is out a-wooing,
Who can woo so well?
Pretty brook, thy dream is over,
For thy love is but a rover!
Sad the lot of poplar trees,
Courted by the fickle breeze!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Help...
He is walking by a river
Feeling worse and worse by the minute
One second he is looking at the river
The next he is in it
The icy cold water pulling him down
His screams starting to make no sound.
He keeps fighting, kicking, howling
It was no use
The river was going to send him down
It would laugh in his ear
Knowing his struggle was useless
Though the boy was clueless.
It was decided that
That was all he could take
Letting his mind go numb
For his nerovs's sake
He is submerged in the water
Hearing a final laugh of victory
Just a bunch of mockery
From the stuipd river
nothing could be less civil
Down underwater
he could see many fish
And they looked kind of bothered
'Do not let the river win! '
a fish cried to him
'But I cannot swim no more
and you are just one fish' he sighed
The fish smiled 'Yes, but help can grow'
All the fish gathered around
And now the river no longer pulling him down
He gasped for air
Now he could see
That the poeple who really care
are the ones who can really help me.
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 Road That Runs Beside The River
follows the river as it bends
along the valley floor,
going the way it must.
Where water goes, so goes the road,
if there's room (not in a ravine,
gorge), the river
on your right or left. Left is better: when you're driving,
it's over your elbow across
the road.
You see the current, which is
what the river is: the river
in the river, a thing sliding fast forward
inside a thing sliding not so fast forward.
Driving with, beside, the river's flow is good.
Another pleasure, driving against it: it's the same river
someone else will see
somewhere else downstream -- same play,
new theater, different set.
Wide, shallow, fairly fast,
roundy-stone streambed, rocky-land river,
it turns there or here -- the ground
telling it so -- draining dull
mountains to the north,
migrating, feeding a few hard-fleshed fish
who live in it. One small sandbar splits
the river, then it loops left,
the road right, and the river's silver
slips under the trees,
into the forest,
and over the sharp perpendicular
edge of the earth.
poem by Thomas Lux
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Electric Eel Song
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Take out you’ foot
From the black river water
Haul out you’ hand
Out the slow river water
Stay ‘pon the bank
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Shadow ‘pon the bottom
Is the eel in the river
Something like you’ hand
Is the eel in the river
Swimming like you’ foot
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Foot after foot
Though the black river water
She can’t touch the bottom
Out the slow river water
Shirt like umbrella
In the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Cutlass shape
Is the eel in the river
Black blade or brown
Is the eel in the river
Dozing so quiet
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Slap of a tail
Through the black river water
Shiver like ague
Out the slow river water
As if she take cramp
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
No blood, just a thrill
Is the eel in the river
Lightning bold
Is the eel in the river
And she Drown now, she chilly
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
poem by Slade Hopkinson
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The River And Her
in the slow history of the river flowing
she wants to mark her own name with her fingers
religiously she goes there on a ritual of her own
naked she dips her skin on the water
so soft are her feet on the bed of pebbles
deep down the fishes ask for more of her toes
touched the river begins to sing a song for her
the bamboo leaves keep watching what happens next
will love dance on the surface of flimsy reasons?
will passion appear and last forever?
the banks want to close in on them: the river and her
the sun is worried what will happen next
it did end, but it was sad, as sad as the butterfly that lost one of its wings.
the river loses its name as she plunges deep to the tight arms of death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River Death
River was
Running...
With water...
Water are
Nice too
Play with sands...
Trees...
Mountain rocks...
Swmming fishes...
Some time jump
With dive and swime...
Sun was see
Face at river water
Mirror...?
moon was
Click the eye
About
The river....
Animals are swimming
Birds also drinking...
People also
Swmming too
Wash the cloths...
River was
Every day run
Simply not sad...
At rainey time...
At winter time...
Summer time
River not run
Stop to stop
Death the river...
Sky cry...
With rain
Run the river...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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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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The Story Of A River!
That empty river was filled with water,
Running water never stagnant to collect litter,
Clean and clear to see the treasures stored,
Heavy pebbles, the quick fish on the soften rocks,
Green kingdom of algae and their blooms peep,
Dipped into the river to pick up a handful,
Of tiny river sand, suddenly floated along the river,
That drifted and took me to a furlong,
How to swim opposite when the current was so strong,
Shocked, confused and kept the head above the liquid,
I saw myself moving faster with the Mother Nature,
The green wild yam with spacious big leaves,
Where my grannies told that the reptiles hide,
The recently planted teak trees stood still,
The palms were high and full of fruits,
Even one not dropped into the water, when I passed,
Bananas were useless with soft stem,
There was a slanting coconut tree at the brim
Leaned to the river for water and sun,
I held its root as hard as I could,
Reached the bank with joy in a blink,
That river full of water is empty now,
And our farmers not even go out,
To check their handed down plowing tools,
The dried up Tamil Nadu with people with tears,
A nuclear plant is built on its shore.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Heart Is Like A River
My heart is like a river Flowing like the river nile
So many things flow in there
And there are many things to grow there
That blows my mind very much
My taught is like a fish in the river
My heart is deep like a river.
poem by Segun Odukoya
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Do You Really Want to Know Me?
if you know what a river is
perhaps you will know a man
i am a man and you will say to the river
i have known a man and i have known a river
there is no way that i will never you in full
you shall brag to the clouds in your mind
they drift
there is no permanence
permanence is an illusion
a river
a cloud
water
air
and this is where we must start
educating air
if you step upon my heart and tell me
i have know everything about you and you must not change and that is what you are
you are wrong
for i am a river that encircles a mountain
but i know a path but the paths do not know me
and so i keep on moving
changing paths and what path was it that you have seen yesterday
is no longer the path now
you must accept you have never known a river
because a river is man
and man is not forever man
he is a river that always escapes the hold of your mind
that frame that has walls
without even the possibility of another opening for stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dry River
River of Doom
Sad sight dry river, and twenty years ago it was
three metre deep and had trout. We caught some
with nets and, fried them on a small fire and felt
like cavemen. Delicious fish meat we ate with our
fingers. Every year I have seen the river getting
smaller even in the winter when it rains irregularly,
it is no more than a beck. There is no fish not even
the skeleton of children caught by a wall of water,
when it had been raining upland and into the river.
Their father was arrested it was said he had killed
the children, fed them to the pigs, but for a single
button in the sty they sat him free. Terrible rumors
every summer I see him walking along the dry river,
muttering to himself trying to find his children
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Edge of the Water
On the edge of the water
Worrying more than ought to
river reflects back up at me
the water is cool and calm
a peaceful stream
enters my mind
takes over the steering for me
the river floats around a bend
I'm on the mend
with a tree overlooking the river's curve
two birds make a squawk
skim the river's surface together
river boat bells play to set the mood
poem by Ludvig Von Himmelstein
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