En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Hammock Upon The Winds

there lies sadness like patches of green moss
sticking upon a rock half covered by the clear water of the river

one may think that sadness will always be there as patches of
what we have always wanted to get rid off like peeling them off gently from
an old sharp and rugged edged rock

sometimes you become so tired planning and doing and then surrendering into the helplessness of a fallen leaf that floats and is carried slowly by the current of the river early morning on a Sunday

when people are not around spending holidays on places that they miss for the whole week

and so one lays its tired body on the side of the river's bank
wades his hands and feels the coolness of the water and then starts to flow and release what he thinks must be given away

one feels the restfulness of finally giving up
of not minding about what cares must be done in order to make
life smoother

flowing and easier like the way the brown leaf floats
like the way the blue clouds drift
like the way we let the moss grow
upon the side of the rock
having more wet times with the clear water of the river
having a clearer view of the orange fish within and the shiny pebbles
beneath them

words lull me like i were carried by the hammock upon the arms of the unseen winds....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Way At Giving Poetry A Contemporary Name

poetry is just a flow of the river, taking away what is floating there
everything, from the heart to the vastness of the sea,
you get carried, not just by the substance of the river in-itself,
but also of the sound of the flow so uniquely yours, unequaled even
by the perfection of those who were here ahead of you,

you get carried away, you become the river itself, the leaf, the sand,
the bubble, the fish, the twigs, the paper boat, the shadow of the clouds
the mirror of the sky, clear so clear, murky and so murky, you flow

to be one with the sea, the horizon, you become more and less,
you get carried away both with the bulk and the bulge and the budge,
you get carried away, you lose yourself with the wind, you hear all the
sounds, you talk and walk, and then you feel the happiness of the earth
and the sky and the whole of the galaxy.

There exists no borders of time. It is all space. Bliss.
There are no lessons, not even visions, there is only the universal lull.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss

to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time

you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone

to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be

then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river

then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river

and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost

and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running

where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss

you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Serene Love

as we step into the
clear water of the river
we create the ripples
we lose sight of the
face of the blue clouds
we find for ourselves
an embroidery of
drifting leaves

we dip our bodies to
the coolness of the water
i search for serene love
at the bottom where
you are waiting

we kiss and embrace
beside the slippery stone
the moss is green
each step as slippery as
an ell
each kiss and breath a
bubble we send
to the surface of the river

the water flows farther and farther
until we begin not to see what happens.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Y.... River meets desert

A young river,
So strong
Nothing could stop it
Nothing went wrong

Big rocks in its way
No problem at all
It went over them
Around them if tall

But then it met the desert
Water sank deep into sand
Huge problem for the river
It looked like its life was to end

Desperately
It turned to our God
'Please, God help me
To get away from or over this spot'

A voice from above said
'Look at the wind in the sky
It crosses the desert so easily
So just stop to cry! '

'But I am not wind, I am water
How can I cross
Please help me
I am at a loss'

'Did you forget dear river, '
Said the voice from above
'Long time before you were a river
The wind carried you with love'

The river let its water evaporate
Allowed the wind to carry it once more
In its loving arms,
wind held the river as before

Across the desert they went
A lot of water in a big large cloud
And at the other side
The wind let it rain out

There the river again became strong
Even better and stronger than before
With much vigor it ran
For everyone to adore

Dear young men and women alike
If you meet with the desert or anything wrong
Remember who carried you
Before you became a river so strong

poem by Aufie Zophy
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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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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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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
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Life is like a river

My life is like river,
A river of a dreamer,
Someday soon I will fly away from here,
Someday soon I will make it as a writer,
My life is like a running water,
Water of the deepest ocean,
A line between of you and I,
Someday soon you will come and find me,
My life is a river of never ending dream,
My life you someday will understand,
You'll see the side of an artist,
A side you someday may be proud of,
A running water is like a river of life that was once told,
A life without a soul is life without water,
Without Water is like without food,
My life will always be a free sprit of a river that flows into your dreams.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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342

The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Us

The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Juliana....

on early morning
she walks down the river
leaving all her
coverings on the grass
she wades in the water
naked
as the bamboo trees
bend with the wind
paying homage to her
raw beauty
she plunges into the
cool waters of the river
and the river
takes joy of her body
then she rises
as water drips on her breasts
giving way to her
nipples
as the water cascades down
her abdomen
to her legs

Juliana, the mountain beauty
once i have seen her
under the moon amidst
the trees in the forest
and the virgin hills.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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 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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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 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
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The River

In my first sleep
I came to the river
And looked down
Through the clear water -
Only in dream
Water so pure,
Laced and undulant
Lines of flow
On its rocky bed
Water of life
Streaming for ever.

A house was there
Beside the river
And I, arrived,
An expected guest
About to explore
Old gardens and libraries -
But the car was waiting
To drive me away.

One last look
Into that bright stream -
Trout there were
And clear on the bottom
Monster form
Of the great crayfish
That crawls to the moon.
On its rocky bed
Living water
In whorls and ripples
Flowing unbended.

There was the car
To drive me away.
We crossed the river
Of living water -
I might not stay,
But must return
By the road too short
To the waiting day.

In my second dream
Pure I was and free
By the rapid stream,
My crystal house the sky,
The pure crystalline sky.

Into the stream I flung
A bottle of clear glass
That twirled and tossed and spun
In the water's race
Flashing the morning sun.

Down that swift river
I saw it borne away,
My empty crystal form,
Exultant saw it caught
Into the current's spin,
The flashing water's run.

poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Cool Water

Words and music by bob nolan
Revised lyrics by joni mitchell
All day I face the barren waste
Without a taste of water
Cool water
Old dan and i
Our throats slate dry
Our spirits cry out for water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin dan
Some devils had a plan
Buried poison in the sand
Dont drink it man
Its in the water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin free
Waitin up ahead
For you and me
Cool clear water
The nights are cool and Im a fool
Each star is a pool of water
Cool water
But come the dawn
We carry on
We wont last long without water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin dan
Were still in no-mans land
Dry bones and sand
People never planned here for water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin free
Waiting up ahead for you and me
Cool clear water
The shadows sway
They seem to say
Tonight we pray for water
Cool water
And way up there
If you care
Please show us where
Theres good water
Cool clear water

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The moss that loves the stone

It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Rapids

He dives down into the cold water. at first he is thrown onto the rocks, and pulled under the water by a fast moving channel, which takes him right past john, down river.
Moving down the water
John is drifting out of sight,
Its only at the turning point
That you find out how you fight.
In the cold, feel the cold
All around
And the rush of crashing water
Surrounds me with its sound.
Rael manages to grab a rock, pull himself to the surface and catch his breath. as john is carried past, rael throws himself in again and catches hold of his arm. he knocks john unconscious and t
Ocking themselves together, he rides the rapids into the slow running water, where he can swim to safety.
Striking out to reach you
I cant get through to the other side,
When youre racing in the rapids
Theres only one way, thats to ride.
Taken down, taken down
By the undertow
Im spiralled down the river bed,
My fire is burning low.
Catching hold of a rock thats firm,
Im waiting for john to be carried past.
We hold together, hold together and shoot the rapids fast.
But as he hauls his brothers limp body onto the bank he lies him out and looks hopefully into his eyes for a sign of life. he staggers back in recoil, for staring at him with eyes wide open is
Ohns face - but his own.
And when the waters slow down
The dark and the deep
Have no-one, no-one, no-one, no-one
No-one left to keep.
Hang on john! were out of this at last.
Somethings changed, thats not your face.
Its mine - its mine!

song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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