En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Lampor

I often walk from market to my home
through chinese shop matters which sold; gold
Kelontong variety and rice
Book Store and printings office
And then store through which basic necessities are sold at government-fixed prices, and the barber shop, gambling Boss

Through water wheel to arrange flow of water to the rice field
Flow of water have curves in the river till the South Ocean
Where all kind of fish
Play from morning to night
Among of the evil spirit and demon
In the South Ocean,
The Palace of Nyai Loro Kidul
Quenn of all evil and demon in the South

When night come, “Lampor”
walk with howl of the wind
Children who heard their voice
Were run to their armpit mother
And drunk milk from nipple
Crosed the dark of night and fear
In the warmth of the batik cloth
and mother embrace

To day I am not afraid
Fairy tale, demon or evil spirits
who walk at midnight
to pass in the children imaginations

on the bridge old man and the youngers are gathering
to tell their experience and imagiantions each other
in the evening,
where the water river flow for fish, and demon
flow granted all of fish and their imagination

poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Fish Pound and Violin

My grandpa stay in the house
Near the river
Where its water flow end in the South Ocean

His garden hedged with Bamboo trees
In front of the garden planted three tuft trees
The children like to climb the tuft tree
Pick up the fruits and eat on the tree
Glad and laughing
My grandpa was silent and said nothing
He just smile subtly, and gaze at far away

There is a fish pond in the backyard,
In its edge planted pineapple and banana trees
My grandma always give brand and papaya leaf to the pound
Giving food for the fish like Gurame, Sepat dan Nila,
While my grandpa make a biola, gitar and bass
In the litlle studio, near the kitchen
I passionatedly gaze the fish jump around
And glad
While they don’t know their destiny
Decided by mothers in the cities
On the frying pan, roastibng, caserate,
With imagine to ecpanced their plan on the rice filed
Near the road forgeted how farmer produce,
Fish, rice and vegetable,
And actually
Their Self conscience.

poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Things We Said

By the town where you said you'd still love me
By an ocean just seven miles wide
We could walk across that bridge
Watch the water flow under
Leave all our troubles behind
Well maybe you don't quite remember
Lying there on your living room floor
With your parents over head we went to sneak up into your bed
In the mornings I'd be sneaking out your door
I'd do anything at all to make you happy
Anything at all to see you smile
Well lord knows I tried
But didn't always do right
Take back every tear I made you cry
By the town where you said you'd still love me
By an ocean just seven miles wide
We could walk across that bridge
Watch the water flow under
Leave all our troubles behind
Ah yeah
Five years ago I was much older
Time comes and takes it all away
To have and to hold to death do us part
Leaves me with a thousand things to say
I said sometimes I don't quite remember
What I did to make you leave
With the moon up over head
I lie awake alone in my bed
Without you it's so hard to be me
By the town where you said you'd still love me
By an ocean just seven miles wide
We could walk across that bridge
Watch the water flow under
Leave all our troubles behind
By the town where you said you'd still love me
By an ocean just seven miles wide
We could walk across that bridge
Watch the water flow under
Leave all our troubles behind

song performed by by Nine Days
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Canal

when I go to school,
I have to walk by side of a canal
I would be curios to see fish and crabs
But when I look into water these days
I saw garbage thrown in the water.

There are no creatures living in water
The garbage blocks the flow of water
The water is thoroughly polluted.
Like this everywhere its happening
We all are responsible for it.

poem by Shaleeka V.p
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Fish Year

Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.

Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.

We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…

That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.

poem by Dongming Zhou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Creek

The place where crystal-clear water pulses
through the lush veins of the riverbed
where the moonlit fish flop
gracefully out of the shimmering water,
A true sanctuary of peace
where the soft humming of water
fills you ears with a harmonic rhyme,
Frenzied insects buzz around mindlessly
over the hypnotic mist of the water,
A place of serenity, gingerly expecting
the ever-changing seasons as they flow by slowly,
Children giggling happily as they wade with the curious, nibbling fish
Jade green leaves falling generously into the
embracing water below,
Red-tailed beauties gently hovering under the rushing surface
of their underwater kingdom,
Sweet daisies grazing the edge of the river,
giving off their intoxicating aroma
My most cherished place where I can relax with the river,
and spend endless hours chatting with the fish

poem by Katherine Lyczek
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Kali Jali And The Panji Story

Near the “Kali Jali”
The brown water flow
In the Rainy day
Where laid the “getek” were made from bamboo tree
brought the people went from side to another side the river
Bring bycycle, handbag, went to the town
Or the Chinese shop
While I like play on its side the river
Brought by my sister
Who lives in my grandma and grandpa
My big family from father line
Where our ancient family in the backyard
With same place with districthead called Sawunggalig
I like to play there,
When I went home from my holiday
My father were angry because my foot injury
Couldn’t care myself
When I were became of adult people
I know, so many government official
went to that place brought the incense and fire its
and the smoke around up to sky spread promise and hope
still strong and have accessed in their power
To day I don’t know where they run away
or stay behind the incense smoke
in the wall of company and bigest shop
in my town
build the traditional relgious school
hide in the bankriverside,
and the incense smoke,
flow around,
and flow the capital from another country
to every company, shop and charity,
to the mosque, with coruption money.
While I could think only
In the bankriverside, The Lord of Sunan, and ask why Kali Jali
Flow the brown water and not transparent anymore

poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Mountain Of Poverty

this is what i can tell you:
the children are running in the hills
looking for their favorite butterflies to play
chasing dreams, i suppose, who knows
what they really know and
feel, i was once a child myself, perhaps i have the right to guess
what simple wants they have,

freedom, but i can tell you about something else,
their breakfast today is only brown sugar and rice,
and they have not taken their baths in the river because
the water is dirty, and there is no water system in the hills,
primitive, and still undeveloped, the grasses are not cut
tall and wild, and the coconut trees are not bearing much fruits,
there is drought, and the tenants do not have a good harvest
of their upland rice and there are rats infesting the rice fields,

it rains so hard, the road is slippery and we all have to walk slowly
to keep themselves warm, the men drink wine and smoke
the women do not weave mats anymore, they're sold cheap
and they are so disappointed with what they are getting

sugar is a precious commodity here, no coffee,
salt is expensive, salted fish is a luxury,
bread is like gold here and children do not know what is bread all about
cookies do not exist here

stone age, this is stone age in the midst of an expanding world
the children here are left out
i stare at them as they throw stones at play,
dirt and foul smell, but on the other hand i look at the pictures
that i took on that day

less the smell, less the dirt on their faces,
they are so beautiful, and the mountains are still hopeful.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Am The River Messenger

I do not want to understand
I do not want to know
Just I want to feel
Where the feelings lead me!
I do not want to understand
I do not want to know.
Just i want to be like water
Just I want to flow like a river.

Just I want to stand like a hill high
And feel the flow of the wind at the top
How hard it blows! Under what condition
The water turns into ice and ice into stone!
How hard it hurt at the heart in the transformation!
How does it to feel the hardship of the world from the top!
Does the ocean know? so I want to be a messenger
From the top of the hill to the bottom of the ocean like a river.

poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Farewell

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool sprmg where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage

Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool spring where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ode To The Peshtigo

It starts as just a trickle, a spring which comes up from the ground, fed by many tributaries, to become one of the biggest rivers around.

Always there, constant flow.
Before it had its name, Native Americans used it as a highway, for even today people still travel it the same way.

This river has seen many a traveler, explorers, settlers, trappers, loggers, fishermen, hunters and boaters.

Spring, summer, fall and in winter, even though covered with a blanket of ice and snow, the river steadfast in its flow.

Stretches of water, blissful and serene.
Its rapids, waterfalls, noisy when one is near, yet tranquil to the ear.

This river is home to many animals, fish and birds.
For whoever visits this river, many places seem yet undisturbed, but one thing is certain, the river will always be there, constant flow, the mighty Peshtigo.

poem by Alvin Schaut
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Fish In The Fishbowl...

i see fish in a bowl
the size of the fish is just
enough for the bowl
and water is half-full
the fish swims freely and
breathes
air and lets it pass through
its lungs and three bubbles
rise up
and then disappears
at the surface

outside the house it is raining
heavily
the news of the river overflowing
the banks
is flashed on tv

warnings are given by the government
evacuation is eminent
carry only those which are necessary
foremost
save lives of the children and
the old sector

we are ready
we are not taking this fish bowl
the fish can take of itself

when we left
the fish flips its fins and breathes faster
releasing more bubbles on the surface of the water

it is the only creature i think
that is happy.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Peace River

The Peace River creeps along
From its start in the sand it calls home
That sometimes takes up more below
Than it adds to the flow.

The groove cut deep in ages past
Into the lime-rock's cast
Remains a testament to the way
That Nature refreshes, then takes away.

Sometimes a wild river that knows no bounds
Later just a few scattered ponds
Harboring life which one day
Will again spread when the River has its say.

Once a road for paddlewheel boats
That carried goods up-river to folks
When loaded with coal and necessities
From mines and far away cities.

Then down river the boats did ply
Phosphate ore that man might buy
As an ingredient to benefit all,
Something to makes crops grow tall.

But now the Peace River's flow
Has been claimed by those below
Who've built along Gulf's shore,
And thirst for water, even more.

There are solutions, few
When Winter's drought begins anew
When fish and man alike must find
A place of another kind.

Yet the river lies quiet and waits
For the Summer rains that will create
Again the flood as in times past
When the water moves deep and fast.

The Peace River originates in an area known as the 'Green Swamp, ' a vast mostly unpopulated area of central Florida lying between Tampa and Orlando. The sandy soil (if soil it can be considered to be) accepts summer rainfall while giving up the excess to runoff, and uses the remainder to recharge the shallow limestone/sand aquifer. In the dry season of the year, the aquifer gives up a portion of its burden through springs and seeps to rivers flowing East (Orlando) , West (Tampa) , North (Jacksonville) and South (Charlotte bay) . Southwest Water Management District (Called Swift Mud) will try to 'harness' the Peace river and control its flow. But there's much about the river that they seem not to know (or want to learn) .

poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Once Great River

In the once great river pollution is rife
Nowadays it does not support much aquatic life
In a polluted river fresh water fish rare
Pollution can cause extinction of that much we are aware
On the polluted river few water birds to be seen
Most of the river pools covered in algae of green
From sewage and wash of chemical fertilisers that in drains into it does flow
With so called human progress the scourge of pollution does grow
Pollution in it flowing to the distant ocean shore
The once great river is not great anymore
Do not drink of these waters the warning signs say
Pollutiuon is rife in the World of today
And the once great river flows on muddy gray
To the mighty ocean many miles away.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Spinning top of evil

That spinning top of evil
Was a present once for me
I spun that evil demon
And he never came back for me
Took it rather personal
And shut that demon out
And now that spinners back for me
And he wont mess about

The spinning top of evil
Is spinning round and round
He's faster than the last time
I'm gagged and tied and bound
The top is moving through the night
Invisble to the eye
He's spinning closer every day
His evil presence is nigh

I go to bed at night time
With matchstick in my eyes
When I go out in public
I wear this black disguise
He wont stop til he's got my soul
There's not much hope for me
So I twist and shake and hope and pray
That he will just let me be

The evil top is spinning
Like a catherine wheel alight
The fires of his head are burning
Like the heat on bonfire night
I cant just take the easy way
And let my spirit free
Coz if I kill myself I'll never rest
And he will never set me free

So I'll throw a stone in for myself
And throw one in for him
The evil demons spinning top
Is slowely startin to dim
His time is almost over
And im free to walk away
But lerking round the corner
Is this explosive violant rage

Suprise suprise my limbs have died
I know this is the end
He's spinning round in circles
I'm dragged around the bend
He twists me off so gracefully
I'm tore by limb to limb
I slowely start to fade to black
My soul belongs to him

poem by Mark Eyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet # 337

Each morning bright I children see delight.
Each morning dark I children see sad crying.
The mornings bright`ve milk, bread for appetitte.
The mornings dark not e`en water for drinking.
Each night, lo, bright I happy children see.
Each night yes dark I children see so sobbing.
The nights bright`ve beds for when they`re asleep sleep.
The nights are dark not e`en a floor for resting.
So I as if I`d plenty of everything,
A palace my small room, my clothes all gold
Do come to feel I have too much of spring
When there`re children to misery they`re sold.
And then I litte eat, think have a feast
And look at children who their food has ceased.

poem by Luis Estable
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Walk Invisible, Pt 1

An angel here
An angel there
Glory here
Glory there
So a walk in the invisible

A blessing here
A blessing there
A treasure here
A treasure there
So a walk in the invisible

Joy here
Joy there
Here happiness
There happiness
So a walk in the invisible

Angel guiding
Angel protecting
Angel encouraging
Angel enlightening
So a walk in the invisible

A demon scared
A demon running
A demon afraid
A demon vanishing
So a walk in the invisible

A soul afflicted
A soul cherished
A soul helped
A soul encouraged
So a walk in the invisible

A walk in the invisible
So interesting so inspiring
An interaction with the invisible beings
A realm of pure glory and pure joy
And so a walk in the invisible continues

poem by Obed Akuma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Yes River Knows

Please believe me
The river told me
Very softly
Want you to hold me, ooo
Free fall flow, river flow
On and on it goes
Breath under water till the end
Free fall flow, river flow
On and on it goes
Breath under water till the end
Yes, the river knows
Please believe me
If you dont need me
Im going, but I need a little time
I promised I would drown myself in mystic heated wine
Please believe me
The river told me
Very softly
Want you to hold me, ooo
Im going, but I need a little time
I promised I would drown myself in mystic heated wine
Free fall flow, river flow
On and on it goes
Breath under water till the end
Free fall flow, river flow
On and on it goes
Breath under water till the end

song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!