A Belief in Writing Poetry
For me a poem should be easy
Like a river flowing seamless
Without need to stop and think
Like a river reflects the world
A poem should reflect also
In each passing pace of rhythm
Every bend and curve of a river
Could be the twist and turn
Settled into every verse
Which flows with gentle ease
Beautiful and refreshing
Passing by so slowly
There amongst nature I find
An honest belief in poetry
The simplicity of it all
How easy a poem should be
Not to be understood
But to be felt and known
Not to become explained
But to be seen and realised
My belief in writing poetry
Is a river flowing and reflecting
A simple beautiful honesty
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Beautiful River
And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
CHORUS.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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River Feeling
River feeling is
As simple as
Closing your eyes
For a moment.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
As smooth as
Everything after
The first step.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
easy as forgetting
Walking boots.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
nice as
iron ties
Coming off.
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything is good and flows
like river
poem by Julian Mann
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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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In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One
At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River.
It raises its hand.
It asks if metaphor should burn.
He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth.
He asks, why did you fill the boy with your going?
I didn't know a boy had been added to me, the river says.
Would you have given him back if you knew?
I think so, the river says, I have so many boys in me,
I'm worn out stroking eyes looking up at the day.
Have you written a poem for us? he asks the river,
and the river reads its poem,
and the other students tell the river
it sounds like a poem the boy would have written,
that they smell the boy's cigarettes
in the poem, they feel his teeth
biting the page.
And the river asks, did this boy dream of horses?
because I suddenly dream of horses, I suddenly dream.
They're in a circle and the river says, I've never understood
round things, why would leaving come back
to itself?
And a girl makes a kiss with her mouth and leans it
against the river, and the kiss flows away
but the river wants it back, the river makes sounds
to go after the kiss.
And they all make sounds for the river to carry to the boy.
And the river promises to never surrender the boy's shape
to the ocean.
How beautiful is
How beautiful is the Belief, when we belief in the God
How beautiful are the Creatures, when we belief in the Creator
How beautiful is the Motherhood, when we belief in the Sacrifices
How beautiful is the Fatherhood, when we belief in the Battles
How beautiful is the Childhood, when we belief in the Innocence
How beautiful is the Dream, when we belief in the Ambition
How beautiful is the Contentment, when we belief in the Simplicity
How beautiful is the Life, when we belief in the dead
How beautiful is the Love, when we belief in the Care
How beautiful is the Happiness, when we belief in the Sadness
How beautiful is the Relationships, when we belief in the Tender
How beautiful is the Fruit, when we belief in the Farming
How beautiful is the Confidence, when we belief in Our self
How beautiful is the Beauty, when we belief in Our eyes
How beautiful is the World, when we belief in Peace
How beautiful is the Friendship, when we belief in Brotherhood
How beautiful is the Marriage, when we belief in Sharing
How beautiful is the World, when we belief in the Peace
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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This Poem
THIS POEM
This poem
This first poem
This last poem
This poem that invented Poetry
This one and only one poem
This fictional poem
This ideal poem
This perfect poem
This would – be holy poem
This unreal poem
This poem which is not a poem
This poem which is the essence of all poetry
This poem
And that poem
And my poem
And your poem
And all poems
Poem poem poem poem poem
This poem
Mine and yours
This one small poem of so so many
And not such a good poem at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem I Did Not Write Today
THE POEM I DID NOT WRITE TODAY
The poem I did not write today
Will never be written.
No one knows what it is
Or where it is
'How it can be? ' is another question
No one can answer.
The poem I did not write today
Never went away
It is always here with me and with you
It is the same simple poem
Written over and over again
In our everyday minds.
It is the poem of love of life
The poem of happiness
The poem of belief in God
And in the goodness in the world to come
It is the poem which believes too that poetry will help save the world.
It is the good poem
The happy poem
The poem I did not write today
Is the poem my life is writing now and always
And with you it says
‘What a miracle it is that we are here
reading and writing
and loving life as we do’.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Where The River Flows
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the River
Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide for ever flowing
by the throne of God?
Gather at the river!
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river,
Yes well gather at the river
that flows by the throne of God.
Shall we gather? Shall we gather at the river?
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Dreamy River
There's a dreamy river flowing
Down the street from my house
I walk down there after work
But I paddle my way home
There's a dreamy river flowing
On every street corner in the world
And if that young moon is in the sky
She'll wink at you and let you pass by
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my refrigerator into my mouth
It only costs a few dollars
To keep those shelves stocked
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my mouth into my gut
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my wank into the street
There's a dreamy river flowing
In my mind as I lay to sleep
There's a dreamy river flowing
From a town I've never been to
Across this great country
And also from overseas
Sometimes from people's kitchens
Transversing time and space
I float down this river
Every night and day
There's a dreamy river flowing
From the hops and the malts and sugar
I call it my brother, I call it my wife
I call it my true friend
Let me float upon you dreamy river
And drown all these sorrows
That call to me from pasts I've severed
poem by Spencer Breau
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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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It's a river
When the time keeps passing and the world goes round
and the sea is crashing at the cliffs and the sounds
erupting as the seabirds cry, you can watch the river
as the time goes by
And it's like it's holy and it can be hell
and you feel so lonely and you fear the smell
of the guns that fire then you see the light
of a rainbow dawning and you realise
that the river's flowing as the time goes by
And you met the people and you knew them well
and you said you loved them and you rang the bell
in the tree of life you watched them grow
and the world is turning as the river flows
The earth smells good and the sky turns gold
when the birds are singing and you bless the old
you can kiss your woman and it feels so right
as you touch the river as the time goes by
As you stand barefoot upon the morning shore
and you feel the centuries of death and war
and the wind is biting and it tears your skin
and the river's flowing where its always been
And the river washes and the river's clean
and the soul remembers where the river's been
as you watch it tumble and you watch it flow
your life's a river now you know, now you know
your life's a river now you know.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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The River of Rivers in Connecticut
There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.
In that river, far this side of Stygia,
The mere flowing of the water is a gayety,
Flashing and flashing in the sun. On its banks,
No shadow walks. The river is fateful,
Like the last one. But there is no ferryman.
He could not bend against its propelling force.
It is not to be seen beneath the appearances
That tell of it. The steeple at Farmington
Stands glistening and Haddam shines and sways.
It is the third commonness with light and air,
A curriculum, a vigor, a local abstraction . . .
Call it, one more, a river, an unnamed flowing,
Space-filled, reflecting the seasons, the folk-lore
Of each of the senses; call it, again and again,
The river that flows nowhere, like a sea.
poem by Wallace Stevens
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On The Shore Of Nila (bharatha Puzha)
This is river is laughing,
with the thousands of jingles;
the river and bay tied each other,
but no one seen it;
she is flowing as a princess
the wet wind of river, is
passing through the greenly rocks;
please smile once more,
Oh! My dear river Nila
my love on you, is not gone;
the wind blowing slowly;
this steps in the shore;
Is taken to my youth,
O! My dear, please smile once more
in this shiny moonlight,
cool wind touched the river
of she is searching her lover
poem by I.p. Gopikrishnan Pisharody
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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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Thames! Beautiful Thames!
Thames! Beautiful Thames!
Thames River arises at Gloucestershire,
flows thro' London, the capital of U.K;
Thames River is tidal in London
With a rise and fall of 7 meters,
The river is fed by more than 20 tributaries;
The Thames River which flows alongside
several other towns and cities -
Oxford, Reading, Henley-on-Thames,
Windsor, Kingston upon Thames and Richmond -
is beautiful;
Thames River has a total length of 215 mile,
River banks on either side are beautiful,
Pavement strolling stretch on either side
is beautiful;
Boats sailing in Thames river are beautiful,
Young women who sail in the boats are beautiful,
White swan pairs' which swim in the river are beautiful;
Watching swans from the bridge,
- which spans Reading and Caversham -
somersaulting to catch the fish
is still more exciting and beautiful!
Thames! Beautiful Thames!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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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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River
Here is the river
And I am searching it
In the map that is
On the wall of my house
That is not there.
I do not know
The mountain is in between
The river and my house
That dressedup geography
And taking me from
Place to place.
I am on my own journey
While the sky is breaking
And I with the night dream
Passing passing and passing
The hard days with
Fire of the mountain
And water of the river.
Where is the river
That I am searching
To driveout troubles
Where I am
Here is the river
Wash your face eyes
Somebody is kind enough
To tell in my house.
I am not in my house
See.
And Where am I
And the sea is here
No river no mountain
Here is the river
If you find again
Inform me please
I am grateful then.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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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The Poem I Am Writing Now
The poem I am writing now
does not know if it will be finished
it does not even know if it will be a poem -
it is slowly appearing line by line
and making its own meaning on the page-
Is it worth anything?
will anyone care?
I don't know -
The poem I am writing now
is just these lines
and these lines like all lines
are only small words
in a vast universe
that has long lived
and will probably longer live
without them.
Why then write these words now?
The poem I am writing now is saying,
'I am here now'.
But why should this mean anything to anyone else?
The poem I have written here
is not the poem I would have posted here
It is only the poem I am finishing now
a poem without great love or belief in itself.
The poem I am writing now
is written.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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