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Shoes on the Bank of the Danube

On a sunny day in Budapest
The Danube Promenade offers a serene stroll.
The Royal Palace perched on Castle Hill
Greets you under an azure sky
And the mountains of Buda wave brightly
Their wooded hands across the river.

But along your peaceful walk listen
To the quiet murmur of the Danube,
Listen to the shifting waves that whisper
About bottomless grieves and sorrows.
The river drifts irremovable memories,
On the flowing waters float
Myriad sad stories.

Not far from the Parliament building
And the Academy of Sciences
Sculpted shoes cast in iron
Line the left bank of the Danube;
Between Roosevelt Square and Kossuth Square:
Sixty period-exact footwear,
In the style of the 1940s, conceived
And created by the sculptor Gyula Pauer
And the poet Janos Can Togay.

Attached to the top of the stone embankment,
The shoes symbolize real shoes of real people
Who lost their lives here.
They commemorate thousands of persecuted
Men, women and children,
Mostly Jews, who were murdered
By Nazi thugs in the terrible days
Of the Hungarian Arrow Cross terror
Between October 1944 and February 1945.

While the Soviet Red Army had encircled
Budapest and its units were already fighting
In the suburbs of the capital, Arrow Cross
Militiamen rounded up Jews in groups of fifty
To sixty and led them to the bridges linking
Pest with Buda.

When they reached the river bank
The executioners told their frightened victims
To remove their shoes and put all their jewellery,
Watches, money and other valuables inside.

And then they shot them into a freezing death.
Drift ice floated on the winter Danube,
The water turned red from the blood of the victims
As the river carried away their bodies.

On a serene walk along the Danube
Listen to the quiet murmur of the river.
Listen to the shifting waves that whisper
About bottomless grieves and sorrows.
The river drifts irremovable memories,
On the flowing waters float myriad sad stories.

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Danube River

Long live the danube river
Where every man from all over the world sail
Just to be with you
Danube river

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Blue Danube, Of Course, Strauss

WHO does not know this kind of dance
Like hopping grasshoppers
And butterflies fluttering
Hovering and then
To a quick change
Jumping
Like joy overpowering you
From an overwhelming sorrow,

It can start as a mellow single note
Then comes the other notes
And a lot others joining
Ended into one bombastic
Show

Of women in gowns
Held by men in black suits
And they dance from one end
To the other of this
Dance floor

Who cannot imagine the flow
Of the river Danube
And of course
Who cannot tell
Strauss there all his hands
Bombastically beating
To the rhythm of
A grand waltz
A dance of royalty

For a while
We adopt the mind frames
Of kings and queens
And princes and princesses
To the dance of

Blue Danube
A royal river flowing
To all the hearts of those
Who view life

Alive, rich, abundant
Opulent, of expensive gowns
And silk suits and perfumes
And wine

Oh, it will be only for a night
The blue Danube is now turned
To real blue

The women have bruises
The men have strong fists
And the song perished
In that sickened mind.

You wake up,
The blue Danube
Is a polluted creek
And all the fish
There are already dead.

And who was strauss?

It is you, the complete
Manic-depressive
delusional
Disillusioned
citizen
Of this dancefloor
republic.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Beautiful Blue Danube

They drift down the hall together;
He smiles in her lifted eyes.
Like waves of that mighty river
The strains of the ‘Danube’ rise.
They float on its rhythmic measure,
Like leaves on a summer stream;
And here, in this scene of pleasure,
I bury my sweet dead dream.

Through the cloud of her dusky tresses,
Like a star, shines out her face;
And the form of his strong arm presses
Is sylph-like in its grace.
As a leaf on the bounding river
Is lost in the seething sea,
I know that for ever and ever
My dream is lost to me.

And still the viols are playing
That grand old wordless rhyme;
And still those two are swaying
In perfect tune and time.
If the great bassoons that mutter,
If the clarinets that blow,
Were given the chance to utter
The secret things they know.

Would the lists of the slain who slumber
On the Danube’s battle-plains
The unknown hosts outnumber
Who die ‘neath the ‘Danube’s’ strains?
Those fall where the cannons rattle,
‘Mid the rain of shot and shell;
But these, in a fiercer battle,
Find death in the music’s swell.

With the river’s roar of passion
Is blended the dying groan;
But here, in the halls of fashion,
Hearts break, and make no moan.
And the music, swelling and sweeping,
Like the river, knows it all;
But none are counting or keeping
The lists of those who fall.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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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Rippling Childhood Memories

Rippling Childhood Memories
Melvin Banggollay

Sitting in solitude in the bank of a river
I behold waves to keep coming back
Gently kissing the shore long and forever
With their murmuring songs like flashback
While cool breeze rippled the serene water
With sweet memories just like a while back
When I used to play in this pristine river
Along with childhood friends on the block.

When I gaze the surface of the serene river
I saw smiles of swimming kids like ducks
Merrily playing as they build castle’s tower
along the river’s shore but waves took them back
with splashing moves from the naughty players
playing and throwing mud from the river bank
but at a distance I behold two young lovers
Building a castle of their own fortune and luck.

Who’s that, well that was me and girl of my life.

poem by Melvin Banggollay
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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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The River Flows

The river flows quiet and swift
It twists and turns as the waters drift
It branches and breaks—its fingers entwine
It grows and grows—snakes like a vine.

The river with the soft scent of a calm day
With the smell of clean—hanging—still—in the grey
And sweetness carried on the breath of morning
It caresses the river—the waters flowing.

The river—crystalline from winter melt
And sweet with the summer soon felt
It tastes of springtime—the season between
And flows the river—so blue and clean.

The river—its lazy trickle of water
The musical rhythm—the ocean’s daughter
It whispers and murmurs—a song of its own
Playing over and over—in continuous drone.

The river—so clear and cool
The water flows—the color like a jewel
Its soft arms embrace the shore
The river surging from the days before.

The river flows quiet and swift
It twists and turns as the waters drift
It branches and breaks—its fingers in twine
It grows and grows—snakes like a vine.

poem by Kailey Jennings
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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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The River That Murmurs

I will ask the river, that flows serene
I will speak to the sky
I will ask the river that murmurs

Not to ask me why
I cannot speak for myself.
That time has long since passed me by.

The river can murmur and sing
Unspent by passion: my voice
Will break like a terribly taut string.

My words will be grammatically and academically
Twisted (like that leafless tree) , unfortunately!
I want the river to speak, to speak
Alone, alone with thee.

The river can, softly and without tears
Tell you my dreams and my fears
I know you will listen:
And while city lights in the water glisten

You wont see the tears that shine on my face
No, that is a serious, sentimental place
That only I know;
Flow, river, flow.

Flow, river flow.
Speak to the only love I know.
Daybreak approaches soon
You and he by the light of the moon
Will murmur whilst I -
Will wait for you to bring me his reply.

poem by Rani Turton
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Listen to the Flowing River

The fisherman used to cast his line into the running water
And take what the flowing river allowed him to receive
Now he’s watching as the pollutants slaughter
No longer can he wade out from the shore, a time to grieve.
He looks down on the river sadly mourning
Detests the modern world that lives within
The river’s surface shadows a simple warning
A positive transformation must begin.
We must close our eyes and listen to the flowing river
We must open up our hearts and take one more chance
To take a stand, don’t yield, don’t quiver
Make a choice not to live in this world as victims of circumstance.
No longer watch as acid rain continues to pour down – to sorrow
Should not let our expectations fill with fear
Everyone look out to new horizons on the morrow
The lamp of knowledge is coming here.
Let the rejoicing ring out in the heartland
And thank the Lord and pour blessings on his name, amen
May the future be true for our sons and daughters – delivered with a helping hand
Listen to the flowing river as the fish swim upstream once again.

'2007'

poem by Robert Sheridan
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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 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 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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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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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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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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Not About This

It is not about the classic rivers
of mythology, not about Acheron,
river of woe with its lines of unemployed
holding their migraines in their hands.

Or Cocytus, river of lamentation
where the elderly have gone
to grieve their condition.

It cannot be this.

Not the river of fire,
the lava flowing from another volcanic shudder
into the homes of the living & the dead,
& into the stories of new generations.

For these are byproducts,

shining as they are-

It is not about the river of forgetfulness,
inviting as the night visits the tortured mind.
No, not this, or the waters of hate
& the butchered bodies stacked along shorelines
& the lost women trying to find their sons,

or the river of return,

not the red river of consolation
wound about the heart
& through the vineyards,
or how our loves came to be,
then left us again to ourselves.

It is not about the oldest & saddest river,
the river of time, with flashes of metallic film
sliding by, gathering momentum
& the sufaces of faces,
the faces of phantoms,
(I have seen myself among them.)

It cannot be about theology,
or if it is, it is the theology of celestial mechanics,
the giant narrative of everything,
the source of energy, (& its forms,)
crunching itself out through the heavens.

poem by Michael Gessner
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Where Is The River?

Where is the river?
Is it here
Or somewhere else 

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 illusion 

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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Teach The Gifted Children

Teach the gifted children
Teach them to have mercy
Teach them about sunsets
Teach them about moonrise
Teach them about anger
The sin that comes with dawning
Teach them about flowers
And the beauty of forgetfulness
Then take me to the river (take me to the river)
And put me in the water (and put me in the water)
Bless them and forgive them (take me to the river)
Father cause they just dont know (take me to the river)
All the gifted children
Teach the gifted children
The way of men and animals
Teach them about cities
The history of the mysteries
Their vice and their virtues
About branches that blow in the wind
On the wages of their sins
Teach them of forgiveness
Teach them about mercy
Teach them about music
And the cool and cleansing waters
What do they say, take me to the river (take me to the river)
Take me to the river (take me to the river)
Put me in the water (take me to the river)
And teach the gifted children (take me to the river)
All the gifted children (take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
(take me to the river)

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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