The Dead Fish Speaking For İtself
the best evidence
of that dead fish
is its body bloating
and stinking
floating on the
murky river
the rage of the river
tries to report the sad story
to the deep
blue sea
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is What He Said...
here i am
stuck bathing on the same river
wading on the same
early morning water
thinking, thinking
exerting force without
moving
there is no distance
covered
on such a work that
is worthless
got the energy but there is
no place for me
here, here is an earth
without a tree
here, here is a river
without a ripple
there is a fish over there
the only fish i see
i see, i see, it is floating
it is bloating, it is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Know How Is It To Be Blue
you know how is it to be blue
you sailed once on top and you plunged
deep down under
the rage of the river
you know how is it to be inside
a certain darkness and silence
you know how is it be just a river
this will haunt us forever
you know how is it to be inside the cave
filled with water and rage and rampage
of stone and waves
you know how is it to be a river
flowing and going away
you know how is it to be bluer than blue
and foamy and angry
you know how is it to be deep just being deep
and it is enough for me and then you go away.
let me stay on the depths of these mysteries
i like the blueness of blue, the deepening of the deep
i like it here, deep and silent, even without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Any Form Of Endearment
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the murky one
That seeks your own level of murkiness
In calm and still moments
Let me fish for once
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rocky gauge
In the moment of your dryness
I shall be the river bank nearby
We shall be always here in any form
I shall be the bamboo grove one day
And you shall be the cool river again
gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Day You Stop By A Bridge And Just Sit There
and gaze at the rage of the water
under
the brown river gathering all the nuts
from the mountain
after the flood
murky, all murky
you sit there staring blankly
down
under
and you get carried away
floating
like one of the coconuts
not minding
direction
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Aqueous Transmission
Im floating down a river
Oars freed from
Their homes long ago
Lying face up on the floor
Of my vessel
I marvel at the stars
And feel my heart overflow
Further down the river
Two weeks without my lover
Im in this boat alone
Floating down a river
Named emotion
Will I make it back to shore?
Or drift into the unknown
Further down the river
Im building an antenna
Transmissions will be sent
When I am through
Maybe we can meet again
Further down the river
And share what
We both discovered
Then revel in the view
Further down the river
Im floating down a river
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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
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Dry River Bed
The river- was, but died away,
leaving behind sand and stone,
a dry river bed.
The river that once led the way,
To Rameses throne,
Has no more life- dead.
The river from which reeds grew and swayed,
now dead and gone,
all that's left-a dry river bed.
The river that was marvelous by day,
and treacherous once the sun was gone,
is now but a dri river bed.
The river- beautiful, no words could say,
left behind - just a dry river bed.
poem by Esnala Banda
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The River that Slowly Rills
The Big Fish finds his lunch, and kills
In the river that slowly rills
The victim, caught up in the flood
First of water, now of blood
Death comes to him in blowing chills
While the river slowly rills
We see the blue is mixed with red
The prey surely now is dead
The carnivore has shown his skills
While the river slowly rills
The day has only just begun
Once of two fish, now of one
A strange home for slaught'ring gills
The river that slowly, slowly rills
poem by Bobby Crawford
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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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Long Gone Lonesome Blues
originally by Hank Williams
I went down to the river to watch the fish swim by
But I got to the river so lonesome I wanted to die ... Oh Lord!
And then I jumped in the river, but the river was dry.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
I had me a man who couldn't be true.
He made me for my money and she made me blue.
A woman needs a man that he can lean on,
But my leanin' post is done left and gone.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
I'm gonna find me a river, one that's cold as ice.
And when I find me that river, Lord I'm gonna pay the price, Oh Lord!
I'm goin' down in it three times, but Lord I'm only comin up twice.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
He told me on Sunday he was checkin' me out;
Long about Monday he was nowhere about.
And here it is Tuesday, ain't had no news.
I got them gone but not forgotten blues.
He's long gone, and now I'm lonesome blue.
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River Of Love
(sambora)
Let me tell you a story
About body and blood
Theres a fire below
Deep in the river of love
Hey pretty mama Im just trying to be polite
I wanna make you feel the rhythm of the river tonight
And when the story is over
Youll be satisfied
Honey, honey, honey dont you understand
To make you feel like a woman
Makes me feel like a man
Let me take you down to the river of love
Baby pull me under
Make me drown in your flood
Baptize my body in your river of love
Wontcha take me down
I wanna drown
In your river of love
If youre a little lovesick
Woman I got the cure
Let me be your preacher
And you can be my whore
I feel your heart pumpin honey dont say not
I wanna dive in your river
Take you down real slow
And then your body will quiver
And the river will flow
Honey, honey, honey dont you understand
To make you feel like a woman
Makes me feel like a man
Let me take you down to the river of love
Baby pull me under
Make me drown in your flood
Baptize my body in your river of love
Wontcha take me down
I wanna drown
In your river of love
Down, down, down let me take ya
Down, down, down I wanna take ya
Let me take you down to the river of love
Baby pull me under
Make me drown in your flood
Baptize my body in your river of love
Wontcha take me down
I wanna drown
In our rive of love
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anim
I was born by the river and l live by this river,
For at the age of five i fell in love to the river.
I was married at the age of fifteen to a fisherman,
And i've never been to school before;
But my only education is with this river.
The name of my husband is Anim and,
We live by this river;
For my birth and life are all based by this river!
But today, i am old with my children born on this river.
At dawn i go out with my canoe to catch some fish,
And i have a hook to catch some fish at daylight as well;
For this river had been my life ever since.
My husband is a fisherman and,
I was married to him at fifiteen;
And we've lived all our lives on this river.
This is my home and homw of my children,
This is my way of life and of the people around me,
For this river is all that i know in this world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Help...
He is walking by a river
Feeling worse and worse by the minute
One second he is looking at the river
The next he is in it
The icy cold water pulling him down
His screams starting to make no sound.
He keeps fighting, kicking, howling
It was no use
The river was going to send him down
It would laugh in his ear
Knowing his struggle was useless
Though the boy was clueless.
It was decided that
That was all he could take
Letting his mind go numb
For his nerovs's sake
He is submerged in the water
Hearing a final laugh of victory
Just a bunch of mockery
From the stuipd river
nothing could be less civil
Down underwater
he could see many fish
And they looked kind of bothered
'Do not let the river win! '
a fish cried to him
'But I cannot swim no more
and you are just one fish' he sighed
The fish smiled 'Yes, but help can grow'
All the fish gathered around
And now the river no longer pulling him down
He gasped for air
Now he could see
That the poeple who really care
are the ones who can really help me.
Heart Is Like A River
My heart is like a river Flowing like the river nile
So many things flow in there
And there are many things to grow there
That blows my mind very much
My taught is like a fish in the river
My heart is deep like a river.
poem by Segun Odukoya
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Rwanda 1994
The Kagera River rises in Burundi blue
It sweeps down from the highlands green.
But then why the river runs red?
Why does it look so sinister?
It hauls the bodies of the dead
Its currents carry your sister.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi green
It flows wild to Lake Victoria blue.
But then why the river runs red?
There is no change in the weather.
Yet on the waters float the dead
The currents carry your father.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi white
It drags trees and elephant grass green.
But then why the river runs red?
The day sunny like another.
Yet the streams tow and haul the dead
The currents carry your brother.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi blue
It flows through Rwandan gorges green.
But then why the river runs red?
Why does the village camp smother?
It hauls the corpses of the dead
The currents carry your mother.
poem by Paul Hartal
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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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Dry River
River of Doom
Sad sight dry river, and twenty years ago it was
three metre deep and had trout. We caught some
with nets and, fried them on a small fire and felt
like cavemen. Delicious fish meat we ate with our
fingers. Every year I have seen the river getting
smaller even in the winter when it rains irregularly,
it is no more than a beck. There is no fish not even
the skeleton of children caught by a wall of water,
when it had been raining upland and into the river.
Their father was arrested it was said he had killed
the children, fed them to the pigs, but for a single
button in the sty they sat him free. Terrible rumors
every summer I see him walking along the dry river,
muttering to himself trying to find his children
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The River's Arms...
I Rushed Into The River’s Arms
It Carried Me Away
Within Its Strong, Swift Current
Amid Foam and Sunlit Spray
It Wetly Glossed My Skin
Dripping Diamonds … and Dipping Me
Close Down To The Riverbed
Deep and Wild and Murky
At First, Its Cold Nature
Shocked and Intimidated
Until I Learned Its Flow
Sweetly Invigorated …
Every Splash Upon My Flesh
Was Playful and Caressive
Every Plunge and Every Pull
Held Me Curiously and Possessive
My Body Buoyed and Bounced
Floating On Smooth Liquid
Every Sprinkle Was Sparkling
Each Velvet-Lapping, Vivid
Where Dreams Un-Drowned Had Mixed
With Waves Rimming O’er and Spilt …
Rippled and Spinned Around Rocks That Skipped
Were Danced Down Into Silken-Silt
I Kept Rising By Riverside
Thru Every Dunk and Every Dive …
Every Surge Felt So Alive
Every Soak So Synchronized
Like A Saturday Baptism
My Saturated Soul, Glistened
An Enraptured, Reborn Vision
Fresh-Rinsed … and Arisen
I Let The River Steer
So Symbolic and So Sure
It Carries To Something Greater
I’ll Find Out Just What Later …
“ River Long and River Wide
My River Song On Riverside
Traveling On The River Tides
River’s Arms Is One Sweet Ride ”
It Is Not A Pot Of Gold
But A Jade River That Flows
At The End Of A Rainbow
(Every Forest Creature Knows)
Now Sitting On Riverbank
Watching This Swishing Water-Tank
Don’t Know How I Didn’t Sank …
But I Do Know Who To Thank! …
“ River Long, Oh River Ride
My River Song … On Riverside
Traveling On Your River Tides
River’s Arms Was Open Wide
… I Rushed Into The River’s Arms and … “
Written & ©: 7/13/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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