How I Can Smell Like Dusts And Molds....
i take a walk this morning
in this village of trees where there are no houses of
dwellers,
i am looking for a peaceful place as i carry with me a load of some
thoughts heavy on my hair
i do not think that i am being punished with these
i am just trying to take my time
listening to my own footsteps
to the sound of the leaves on those grasses and trees
a river walks along with me
that is how i see it
it is a water traveler wanting a companion
towards a far end
that it knows too well for i am but new here
a lost stranger to his view
a novice of distance
i bring peace in my heart, i have set some pigeons free
my gifts to the balding mountains and to the hills with brown grasses
no pen, no paper, nothing about personal computers or cellphones
no signal, i am satisfied,
i am sucking air, words are carried with it in my nostrils
the river smiles, flows, and winds itself like a snake smooth on the grass
i listen too much, i become this earth
the river winds around my hair, birds are building nests,
the owl sleeps for the night beside my ears,
how peaceful is this place, how foolish had i been for all those years
hiding behind those rooms and rooms of books,
which explains why the river says that i smell nothing but
dusts and molds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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T8
there is a winding river
beside tall mountains
you must know that we have
crossed this river
ten times already
it is the same river
winding through the banks
of these foggy mountains
the tall cogon grasses
can deceive us and so
are the boulders of rocks
that lie along our paths
we are grasping for air
to reach the highest peak of these range
of mountains and valleys and
plains
at the topmost
there we can see the truth and negate
that we can never step twice
on that same river that winds through the hillsides
snake, boa, venomous circuitous foggy paths
damned, we stepped on the same river more than twice
this is the tenth, and this is the highest peak
the world is nothing but a winding snake.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Carry Me (a River)
carry me (a river)
carry me a river
take i there, by the river
let the cool breeze wash away the pain
from within me not in vain
carry me a river
where the sweet melodies of the birds reign
the birds in a singing mood so plain
wipe off my mind from the railing train
and carry me over yonder to clear my brain
as you carry me a river
carry me a river
by the river side
the pebbles and the bubbles
clear as water by the stream
as you carry me a river
told me the best poor surrogate of wisdom is pride
but intelligence and self trust will avoid troubles
not even in your dream
carry me a river
in touch with i roots
in my gideon boots
and some khaki suites
carry me a river
to dream a better me
and look back to see
the horizon by sundown
lost but not a clown
with my thinking crown
i stood up to go back-a town
next time
carry me a river on time
though you carry me there for some time
but next time
carry me a river on time
® ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©25.08.2011
2133h rs
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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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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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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Mysterious Mahanadi Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Mahanadi is beautiful;
All creatures on the river are delightful.
Flows from time immemorial on Earth;
Birds fly on the river with mirth.
On the river bank my village looks beautiful;
People of Brah manakhanda are delightful.
My village brothers are innocent;
In them plays waves of merriment.
I have played on my sweet loving river;
Penned many poems with pleasure.
Mother’s affection attracts me gaily;
Derive peace affectionatinely.
My mother looks beautiful;
All people are delightful.
All companions are gleeful;
All creatures are peaceful.
Mother’s blessings showers on all villages daily;
All people enchant gaily.
The cosy sandy bed is peaceful;
All comrades are delightful;
All companions sing songs gaily;
All comrades pray god gaudily.
The beauty of the river is ever lasting;
People on the river are enchanting.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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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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The River Flows
The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by
No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul
They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in
I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere
The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back
I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.
Written by Jo Carey
The river's song
The river's song
~
There's a song in the river
that streams from mountains and rain
it plays upon rocks and riverbanks
the birds and fish know it well
it flows effortless in a rhythm
pitched by its own will
a rolling waltz, serenely sweet
feeds the thirsty trees
there's a song in the river
an acoustic serenade
the endless symphony
where unwritten words decree
that there is music here
tide eventually to the sea
insects dance upon each note
while sticks and leaves
twirl away to its beat
there's a song in the river
and it plays for free
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Lost River
Theres a lost river that flows
In a valley where no on e goes,
Where the wild waters rush
Rumbles deep in the hush.
Gone far from there now,
Lord Ill be back somehow
To where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Oh, lost river, now Im coming back
To the pot-belly stove, where the firewoods all stacked
Oh Quebec girl, go with me,
Oh my bell, my fleur de lis,
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Now every body knows
Where that lost river flows
Its someplace hes lost
Behind bridges that hes crossed
Well, hed like to return,
But his bridges are all burned
And hes much too far down
To return to higher ground
Oh, lost river, now Im coming back
To the pot-belly stove, where the firewoods all stacked
Oh Quebec girl, go with me,
Oh my bell, my fleur de lis,
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Oh lost river, far over ther ridge
Now is it too late for me to build me a new bridge?
To the bright golden time
When her love was still mine
And the world was still wild
Like the heart of a child
Oh, lost river, now Im coming back
To the pot-belly stove, where the firewoods all stacked
Oh Quebec girl, go with me,
Oh my bell, my fleur de lis,
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free River
Free River flow, Free River
so cold, Free River
you’re getting old.
Free River don’t cry, Free River
you’ve run dry.
I still see you through my youth’s eyes.
Free River you told no lies, Free River
your path has been made, Free River
all things change.
Free River you made it to the sea.
The friends I swam with once
are now gone, left only me.
Free River you’re worth more than gold, Free River
I've grown old.
I’ve lived by you my whole life and
I’ve left my seed through my wife, Free River
I lie at your shore; now dry,
Free River it’s my time to die.
poem by Patrick Dumas
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River Death
River was
Running...
With water...
Water are
Nice too
Play with sands...
Trees...
Mountain rocks...
Swmming fishes...
Some time jump
With dive and swime...
Sun was see
Face at river water
Mirror...?
moon was
Click the eye
About
The river....
Animals are swimming
Birds also drinking...
People also
Swmming too
Wash the cloths...
River was
Every day run
Simply not sad...
At rainey time...
At winter time...
Summer time
River not run
Stop to stop
Death the river...
Sky cry...
With rain
Run the river...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A Man Who Knows Much About Nature
He has not been to college or uni and for so called success in life he does not have much to show
But about flora and fauna and Nature there is so much he seems to know
He knows all of the trees in the Parkland by the bark or the leaves that they wear
A man who knows much about Nature and for the health of Nature he care.
A man who knows much about nature by their songs the birds he recognize
He like the quiet place in the country far removed from human made noise
In the shadow of a tree by the river the sun shining bright in the sky
Listening to birds singing around him such moments of peace he enjoy.
He like places without man's buildings away from the noise of the street
A quiet place in Nature's own kingdom where the creek and the river meet
Where lark he is soaring and singing as upward and upwards he fly
He has been a student of Nature ever since he was a young school going boy.
A man who knows much about Nature and to Nature he remains true
And Nature needs all of her good friends for Nature's good friends are too few
The weekend finds him in a quiet place on a sunny day sitting by a tree
Near where the creek flows into the river the river that flows to the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Agusan marshlands from the lens of Elvi
Crystal clear river not a ripple from your hands
You are inside this boat of art
Sailing on the belly of this peaceful Agusan river
Where the sun and earth meet and become one
In the mirror of their likeness
The dark islands the dark trees
Mirror on the smooth water as you take the pictures
Of this manner of capturing the beauty
Of peace and tranquility
On the background is a native hurling his nets
On a boat his thin child
The river turns to murky brown
The fish swim away in hiding
Disturbed by their hunger
The poverty that grips their bodies
Their souls thirsty for the beauty that they cannot see
Your lens disregarded what should have been more true & real
Overshadowed by your quest to capture
What is not there
I am looking at the background beyond the mirror
On a closer look the native has angry eyes
Red with fury but then the night comes
And your lens was not sensitive enough
The truth was not exposed
Only the man and his boy felt it
In darkness they are the only ones fully seeing
Your boat leaves without saying anything
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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Learn From The Song Of The River
Learn from the river. It flows.
It does not ever stop or stand still.
It would only be a puddle, if it stopped.
It would evaporate, dry up, cease to be, if it fell in love with a scene, staying there, never to move again.
The river leaps over rocks, swirls around anything that blocks its way.
If something obstructs that is too big to move, too hard to dissolve, the river simply washes over and around; persistently, unrelentingly wearing away at the obstruction, until the river conquers and reconstructs its pathway and time is all it takes.
The river sings a varied melody, because it incorporates into its singing, what ever comes into its course.
Under low hanging trees, between high rising hillsides, over sand or piles and stacks of rocks, between narrow banks, through wide passes, covering deepest crevasses, flirting along shallow bottoms,
the river adjusts its song, as it changes its environment.
It creates new harmony with the alto of the earth's echoes,
the soprano of the leaves and grasses,
the basso grande of the rock face and walls of hills and mountains.
Over and above, the tenor of the sky sings recitative,
the melody of God's creation, blending the song of the river into unmatched beauty with all.
We, who try to live like a river, will flow.
No myth will conquer us, saying, 'Stay here, eternity will find this all unchanged.'
We know that the fleeting moment never will pass again, those same low hanging branches.
The river sees each scene but once.
We who live like a river, understand that each rock of crisis,
each bend in our course, which drives us to a new direction,
can never still our song.
For the river flows on eternally, in the course set only by God.
And the river blesses or curses, as it wills, everything that it passes
poem by Phyllis Thompson Halle
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I know a river
I know a river;
long before I began to hold a pen
those days of-
-'twinkle, twinkle little star'
I know a river;
A river of words;
not river-benue or river-niger
But its a river that flows in human-imagination
And a paper is made as a boat
-paddled with pen
To sail a message to the earth
From heaven's gate
-a lullaby to the infant and wise-words to the adult
I know a river;
Shakespeare and others've been to the river
-they took their bathe and left
Today,
Here I stood by the river bank,
With my colleagues Akewusola habib, Oludipe samuel,
muhammad-ahmad
-Rasak-malik-Gbolahan, Randy michael, Oloidi kingfemi and others
In the young of our days
Bathing in the river of words
Though we're nude in the river
But we're clothe with our imaginations
I know a river;
A river from solomon's source
Now I am swimmer,
-in its floods
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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