The Aide
The Aide
The swimming pool’s wall was decked out with Swiss
flags making the scene solemn and legal, Charles, his
real name Herbert, but he thought Charles have him
an royal air, was leading an alabaster skinned, thin
woman into the pool, she was naked save from a pair
of heavy, leaded boots. They waded to the deep till
submerged, he had instructed her not to hold her
breath, but just let it happen it would be quicker that
way. But she held her breath till bubbles came out of
her mouth and nostrils and her struggle to reach to
the surface ended and she looked like a rare sea plant
swaying gently in the flow. Charles got out of
the pool his job done, elderly now, but with a body
that would make a suit or uniform look good, he had
the contented air of a man who had found his proper
vocation in life.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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His Life, a Porridge Pool
Sitting on a traditional stool
Starring, ripples in a pool
He stirred porridge with a wooden spoon
Ripples, cause of his spoon
Porridge, had become a pool
His life, a porridge pool.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Courage is setting yourself free
As she maneuvered
her entourage
of a motorized wheelchair
trained assistance dog
and personal assistant
into the Olympic size swimming pool
at the health club
I thought that it was
a nice idea
to come and sit
at the edge of the pool
and that it would probably
be therapeutic
or at least a refreshing
change of place
for someone in a wheelchair
but she scooted her vehicle
into front of the first swim lane
and as she was chatting to her assistant
the dog just sat there by the door
resting
her assistant reached behind her and
lifted her torso up and placed
her at the edge of the pool
as I was sitting in the
nearby whirlpool
at 4: 30 in the afternoon
I became curious
about what they were going to do next?
was the parapaligic
going to just go in the water
and sit or was there something more in store
when she was tossed in the water
I realized she must have been a swimmer before
you could tell by her upper body
that she had once had a sleek form
that swimmers have
powerful shoulder muscles
she started with a back stroke
her thick arms making a V stroke
her clenched fists
providing an engine to paddle her body
down the lane
since she had no control over her legs
the graceful placement of her head
during her swimming stroke
face up in the pool
forced her knees to come up
to the surface
this improvised technique
had half her body moving furiously
and the other half
the useless half
being dragged behind
she had an unusual turn
in which instead of using the wall
of the turn to propel off
she turned first sideways
and then circled back
and went on her way
but as she finished the turn
I saw a peaceful look
on her face
she had found
freedom of movement
once again
in a swimming pool
one of the most dangerous places
to be in
when you have lost control
of most of your body
poem by Oscar Mireles
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In A Breath
Life is only one breath after another,
We are the ones who control our breaths, not oneanother.
A breath is all it takes,
To make a breath.
In a breath you could stop,
In a breath you could drop,
In a breath anything could happen,
In a breath anything could happen.
Life is the journey down a pathway,
Of which stones are breaths that show you the way.
A path to eternity, to forever.
Where you shall stay forever and ever.
In a breath you could die,
In a breath you could fly,
In a breath anything could happen,
In a breath anything could happen.
Tomorrow is yet a turn,
A turn you may not reach, but only a breath can determine,
You don't know when your final turn comes.
You do not know what you will become.
In a breath you could win,
In a breath you could sin.
In a breath anything could happen,
anything could happen.
Life is but a breath,
Air is but a breath,
In life you will find the truth,
And find air is the proof.
In a breath you could find nothing,
In a breath you could find everything,
In a breath anything could happen,
In a breath anything could happen.
You travel down a river,
Where bubbles are breaths and you are the giver.
The giver of ripples, of currents,
Of which for endurence.
In a breath you could loose,
In a breath you could choose.
In a breath anything could happen
In a breath anything could happen.
Follow the river of dreams to the sea.
This is eternity you will see.
Breath avery breath,
As if it were your last breath.
In a breath you could sail.
In a breath you could fail.
In a breath anything could happen,
anything could happen.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Bells, Pool And Sleep
Bells overbrim with sound
And spread from cupolas
Out through the shaking air
Endless unbreaking circles
Cool and clear as water.
A stone dropped in the water
Opens the lips of the pool
And starts the unovertaking
Rings, till the pool is full
Of waves as the air of bells.
The deep-sea bell of sleep
Under the pool of the mind
Flowers in concentric circles
Of annihilation till
Both sight and sound die out,
Both pool and bells are quelled.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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Tell her you love her
The road became bumpy suddenly,
All the promises vanished eventually,
They loved each other dearly,
Yet their pride defeated them,
She said sorry yet his pride defied it
She said sorry yet he looked aside,
She went on bended knees,
Yet he remained with a cold heart,
Knowing he loved her more,
But too proud to tell her
A wrong choice he did
Time became a thief,
All the moments stolen,
Pride and time played an interplay,
Yet time was stealing her also,
In her pronounced lonliness,
She found herself in a pool,
Crossing the road mindless,
It was the bus,
Everyone hated the bus,
Found swimming in a pool,
He despised his pride,
Seeing her in a red pool,
Telling her he loves her,
In the wrong time of course,
He should have known
The fate was fatal,
Witnessing her final breath,
Yet she wanted a lifetime with him,
Holding her dragging pulse,
Yet she wanted heartbeats with him,
Swimming in blood,
Yet she wanted to swim in water,
Wanted marriage but it was damage,
He should have known.
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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She Walks Outside Away
Old,
old man walks up to a little\large girl, lolly pops.
Inside,
she walks inside
after the grandpa pa 'said' sympathetic attention,
natural spurts her growth.
Attention is paid to the mask and
grandpa pa, must ask.
Grand-daughter 'dear' it is hardly a mask.
Seen by 'I' many are 'cut's' and deep smiles and
the moon is pale and full, hardly alone, come here.
But Grandpa pa it is only one swimming pool
high are the sides, no one can see, inside.
With my 'trusting' friends from school.
A small swimming pool, why a worry my mask?
Thinking 'she'
who the old imbecile and must he think it is.
Fresh, clean and full and
with the articles of they attention to my, around it;
They a swimming pool my attention obtained.
I observes them swim near it, curiously they holds it
like it swims under the water they hold it by the thighs.
Above its eyes of rising its legs are widespread
with far its bathing suit can stretch aside her skin of Y
which fingers
of rising movement on side, 'oh' dear O 'dear'
which one so many inside.
I am her grandpa pa\daughter see which one is he'
to make Y her legs are distant and they goes up on
the surface except her\them/him legs it strikes with
them\her/him, behind him/her\them and strikes
deep blows with him/her below it in she'
of Such young people thus to know this, they look
by the mask they don't stay, off To long inside,
fifteen minutes or about thus enough of time of her/them
to amuse and glance fixes at it,
of lower part, one looks inside, she laughs, I am angry.
I am to old for this and
what can I do, she will hate me.I can no longer control her.
poem by Is It Poetry
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A Pool of Blood
A pool of water causes us to play with words,
Inner feelings may conceive an exalted frame of mind.
A pool is like radiation, all the yawning is converted
Into a character of good, a conversion has been made.
A pool is of blood, a real royal boredom of blue blood,
A spoilt man is issuing secrets that kingdoms do love.
When murder is bloody and minded by the some
We crave, destruction is the key, for almighty freedom.
A pool of immediate appearance is before my own eyes,
My ears are against my sight, for I have no idea of sound.
What is the murder when pools of bright blood stain the floors
With the anger and hunger of a killer, a sentinel of alien rudeness.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Am Going For A Swimm
I am going for
Swimm in God's
Swimming pool
And at the same time
I feel that I am being blessed by God
While I am swimming in his swimming pool
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Penmaen Pool
For the Visitors’ Book at the Inn
Who long for rest, who look for pleasure
Away from counter, court, or school
O where live well your lease of leisure
But here at, here at Penmaen Pool?
You’ll dare the Alp? you’ll dart the skiff?—
Each sport has here its tackle and tool:
Come, plant the staff by Cadair cliff;
Come, swing the sculls on Penmaen Pool.
What’s yonder?—Grizzled Dyphwys dim:
The triple-hummocked Giant’s stool,
Hoar messmate, hobs and nobs with him
To halve the bowl of Penmaen Pool.
And all the landscape under survey,
At tranquil turns, by nature’s rule,
Rides repeated topsyturvy
In frank, in fairy Penmaen Pool.
And Charles’s Wain, the wondrous seven,
And sheep-flock clouds like worlds of wool,
For all they shine so, high in heaven,
Shew brighter shaken in Penmaen Pool.
The Mawddach, how she trips! though throttled
If floodtide teeming thrills her full,
And mazy sands all water-wattled
Waylay her at ebb, past Penmaen Pool.
But what’s to see in stormy weather,
When grey showers gather and gusts are cool?—
Why, raindrop-roundels looped together
That lace the face of Penmaen Pool.
Then even in weariest wintry hour
Of New Year’s month or surly Yule
Furred snows, charged tuft above tuft, tower
From darksome darksome Penmaen Pool.
And ever, if bound here hardest home,
You’ve parlour-pastime left and (who’ll
Not honour it?) ale like goldy foam
That frocks an oar in Penmaen Pool.
Then come who pine for peace or pleasure
Away from counter, court, or school,
Spend here your measure of time and treasure
And taste the treats of Penmaen Pool.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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BENDER IN VERMOUTH...by talile ali
HOW I LOVE WAKING UP
WITH YOU NAKED IN BED
MAKES ME VERY HAPPY
SEEING YOU INSTEAD
BODY MOVING AS YOU BREATH
DEEP IN YOUR HEAD
GOT ME WANTING, HUNTING
DEEP INSIDE YOUR SHED
REACHING OUT AND TOUCHING YOU
YOU TURN TOWARDS ME
EMBRACE ME WITH YOUR ARMS
YOUR LIPS ARE OPEN TO ME
AS I DELVE INTO
YOUR WARM DESIRING S
MOIST AND SMOOTH AND THROBBING
TILL I START TO SING
I CAN'T HELP HOW MUCH I FEEL
THIS THING YOU DO
MAGICAL AND FRIGHTENING
AS YOU START TO SCREW
TAKE ME TO YOUR MINDS DESIRE
I'M ALL IN
MAKE INTO SOMETHING SPECIAL
WHAT I NEVER BEEN
NAKED IN MY BED
YOU ARE A GIFT FOR SURE
LOVING ME WOMAN
KNOWS MY LOVIN'S SO GOOD
MAKING SURE SHE LOOKS
REAL WELL UNDER MY HOOD
STARTING SOMETHING THAT SHE KNOWS
THAT'S EQUALLY GOOD
poem by Talile Ali
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Whirl pool
Whirl pool
On lake...
At through the stones...
water...
Rund rund...
Arund...
Whirl pool...
A Simply beauty...
The rain drops on
On pool water...
Many many
Little...little...
whirl pool
Run and rund to be...
Play the pool...
It was nature wool
With cool...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Everything Is Nothing!
Everything is nothing,
Nothing is everything,
Everything is Truth and Truth is everything,
All come from a pool and remain in the pool,
fool is that Truth which identifies itself with some fool,
When fool is grown enough to know the pool,
And can see beyond,
He sees he is that,
He is that,
he is that nothing
Thinking on nothing!
Nothing can exist as it is!
Remain in the pool,
Coming and going is that illusion!
Raising and falling as waves of unidentifiable formless energy,
Taking forms with different blends of its own forms,
Truth is that which bestows an atom to absorb the ocean
And Truth is that truth fools itself with wrong identification!
Then every breath is meditation,
Stopping train of thoughts,
Seeing all in true colour,
Remains as everything and nothing in his own nature!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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My Heart is Full
My heart is full.
It has drowned in the despair.
My eyes leak what is left over of my heart’s tears.
The endless river flowing under my skin
Pulsing with life yet not quite alive
The seed that has been protected, is slowly being put out.
Being sucked along in this flood that comes from the pain the heart bleeds.
Will my heart die?
Can it survive, this island of despair?
As my spirit lies crumpled on the floor of this collapsing island
Hateful words swimming around like sharks in a pool of innocent blood, my blood.
Will my mind be able to reach the spirit in time?
To pull it up and lock it away till the time is better?
What will happen?
I’m anxious to know
The island can hardly hold the limp body
The body that does not want to live
Yet is afraid to die
What will happen?
I’m anxious to know
poem by Corina Vitale
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Peace
Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It will not ebb like the sea.
I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.
I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies --
You are my deepening skies;
Give me your stars to hold.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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So I told Robert from the start that if we couldn't get Charles and Max to take part, but especially Charles, that I didn't want to make the film. So would he call his mother and talk to Charles and see if Charles would at all be interested.
quote by Terry Zwigoff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Swimming Pool Or Tennis Court
A swimming pool and tennis court
for music, lyrics, Copeland thought
chez Brothers Gershwin, has to be
the way to go. I get no fee
for poetry, and have no mansion.
My home has much room for expansion,
and telling me my verse is gorgeous
won’t make my house as great as George’s.
In woods of Beverly this Gershon
is not like Hilly Gershwins’ version;
it’s far closer to a shul,
though I would not decline a pool
and tennis court in summertime,
when people think of Ira’s rhyme.
When Aaron Copeland visited the Gershwins in Beverly Hills, he was impressed by their tennis court and swimming pool, saying that he did not know that one could obtain either by writing music and lyrics.
10/1/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Subterranean for M lady Deana
Cascades of crystal water flow
into the waiting pool below.
The force and power of the descent
Renders the water turbulent.
Although hemmed in by rocky walls,
the pool beneath the water falls
is never known to overflow.
I wonder where the waters go.
Far, far away a river flows.
I have been told by one who knows.
Its source is that same rocky pool
which send its waters clear and cool
By secret streams deep underground
to where an exit can be found
A pathway to the world outside
to form a river deep and wide.
Close by its brink I sit and think
as shy wild creatures come to drink.
His explanation could be true
a train of thought which I pursue.
At last I find I must accept
this rather startling new concept
Which solves for me a mystery
I need no longer wonder why.
That distant pool won’t overflow
it has some outlet down below.
Which sets the pent up waters free
to run swiftly and secretly.
Through passages unknown to men
until it can emerge again.
Into the light where it can be
a broad stream dreaming placidly.
20-Nov-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Summer Day At The Swimming Pool
A summer day at the swimming pool,
Women in their bathing suits,
Bearing their forbidden fruits,
Water glistening like a jewel.
Lifeguards like the judges rule,
And won't hear your refutes,
Though children still all act the fool
On a summer day at the swimming pool.
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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In The Swimming Pool In The Park
Your sister called her
the girl in the red beret
and there she was
in the outdoor
swimming pool
in the park
her gran sitting
in the stands knitting
and Janice saw you
and said
Fancy seeing you here
can you swim?
You stood
in the shallow end
of the pool
in your blue trunks
looking at her wet fair hair
clinging to her body
and her eyes bright
in the sun's afternoon light
No not so far
you replied
I can
she said shaking water
from her hair and head
I can swim the length
and back almost
you looked over
at Jimmy in the pool
talking to friends
she touched your hand
and said
I can show you
how to swim
and she smiled
and you felt her hand
on yours and hoped
Jimmy wasn't looking
seeing her touch you
Maybe another time
you said
pulling your hand away
and plunging it
into the water
I've got to go
you said
my friends
are waiting for me
and she looked at you
her eyes now sad
and she said softly
No stay with me
I like it
when you are near me
and she stood there
in her pink swimsuit
her hair sticking
to her face
her eyes watery and blue
and gazing hopefully
(the noise and laughter
from the pool
momentarily shut off)
at seven year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
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London Pool
London Pool's in London town,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's in London town,
Where the great ships anchor down!
O to shake the canvas free,
Hear the cordage cheerily
Whistling to the open sea
Down from London Pool, O!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Crafts and crews of every race!
O to hear the clanking chain
Trail along the wharf again, -
Hear the tautening ropes astrain
Down from London Pool, O!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Toil by day and glare by night!
O to shake our heels and go, -
Feel the four free winds ablow,
Hail the lights of long ago
Down from London Pool, O!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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