En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Mountains

you feel like a leaf steady on a pool of
water,

around you is thick fog
and beyond is the haze of a misty morning

the house on the river bank is deserted
and the boulders of rocks are gray and hard

the grass is nil dipping its tongue on the shallow waters
ripples of the wind bring the shadows of shimmer

the mountains stand still
merely looking without any hint that it is curious at all

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Version Of Solitude

you feel like a leaf steady on a pool of
water,

around you is thick fog
and beyond is the haze of a misty morning

the house on the river bank is deserted
and the boulders of rocks are gray and hard

the grass is nil dipping its tongue on the shallow waters
ripples of the wind bring the shadows of shimmer

the mountains stand still
merely looking

this is my poem for solitude
yes, my own version of solitude when all else fail

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Misty Water

By the town of straight and narrow,
Theres a dark and misty place.
Everything is hazy,
So the people are afraid.
All except marias daughters,
Who believe in misty ways.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty morning glaze.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
Though maria is not lovely,
Shes the lady of my dreams.
cause I see my lady,
Through a misty, silky screen.
And seeing is believing,
But I cant believe my eyes.
Everything is lovely,
In a misty paradise.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
Take a sip of misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
They like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters,
They like misty water.
I like misty water,
I like fog and haze.
Anne maria and her daughters...

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Water Lilies

Where the water-lilies go
To and fro,
Rocking in the ripples of the water,
Lazy on a leaf lies the Lake King's daugher,
And the faint winds shake her.
Who will come and take her?
I will! I will!
Keep still! Keep still!
Sleeping on a leaf lies the Lake King's daughter. . . .
Then the wind comes skipping
To the lilies on the water;
And the kind winds wake her.
Now who will take her?
With a laugh she is slipping
Through the lilies on the water.
Wait! Wait!
Too late, too late!
Only the water-lilies go
To and fro,
Dipping, dipping,
To the ripples of the water.

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Visit to Orcha: A visual exploration

River and tree look on morning town
And on the bridge and men and women
With loads of firewood from the forest
A bare-bodied man has sun on face.
Off the bridge a wizened old man
With saffron cloth drying on river rocks
Bends exquisitely with age and beauty.
A woman in red bathes on the river bed.
In the distance is the bank and history’s spires
On the bank a woman pours water in river
From a steel pot in oblation, to the sun.
As the sun glistens on the shaken river
River beats rocks in soft steady rhythm.
Men stand on the river frozen in time
Joyful women hide on the river’s rim
Waiting to burst forth in celebration.
A holy man stands tall on the rocks
Drying a red loin cloth, his hair mat loose
A boy silhouette crouches near the holy man.
On the tall mound sits the crooked holy man
Against the brilliant morning sun, waiting
To be captured on somebody’s digital lens.

poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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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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Gray Cliffs And Gray Skies

on a foundation of
giant boulders of rocks
in the desert
of Saudi Arabia
where the grass are
resilient to
heat and change
the gray cliffs rise to touch
the gray skies
as though
they are on a conference
for something bigger
than the giant rocks below
and higher than the
heights they have achieved
something must be so
important
like the need for rain
and seeds
and men and women
with thick callous hands
to work for them

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Misty Water Woman

I was driving round, as the sun went down
When I came upon a lake, the sign said misty water
And standing there, with wet and tangled hair was a girl
She said her name was bo, she was a farmers daughter
I said get in, Ill take you home, you must be cold
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
It began to storm, and our talk grew warm
Till I stopped the car outside a cold and lonely place
I said were here
But she had disappeared
And on the seat was a pool of tears
And a handkerchief of lace
I did not see her leave
I was amazed
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her warm
I sped into the house,
It took her father and her mother to straighten me out
What was it all about
Please let me know
She looked sad, and he looked mad
And he said, yes youre right, once we had a daughter
Her name was bo, but that was long ago
Years have gone since she drowned at misty water
And the way he took it, took me by surprise
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty apparition
You never get to touch her
And feel her near

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Only Feel Me Once

you only feel me once
your feet dipping on the rage of the water
of my river
it is cold and it is running
always running and you keep on looking at my face
on the ripples
it is as hazy as the sand falling on the sea
trickles and too many
you do not recognize a map of who i am
in this land of mystery
clouds and smoke and haze and mist
and shadows and fog
always moving away
you only breathe me once
i get in and follow the contours of your
throat
and then i enter in the chamber of your heart
like air
sort of a strange perfume and now the bitterness
stays

you say you cannot forget me.
i move on and like corpuscles of blood i spread
i laugh and this will be my last.

i am the lover of loneliness. I am dying.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Have Patience

there is so much noise
on the surface of things
like a very shallow river

its waters always arguing
with all the rocks
and even with the peebles

it lashes its tongue
on every bank that
it passess
without
listening

farther away is the wisdom
of silence
the patience of the depths
and its dangers

to swallow those who
are reckless
to compel the noise
to submit
to its final poise

forever, the quiet
rest, resignation, death.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Secret

WHAT says the wind to the waving trees?
What says the wave to the river?
What means the sigh in the passing breeze?
Why do the rushes quiver?
Have you not heard the fainting cry
Of the flowers that said 'Good-bye, good-bye'?
List how the gray dove moans and grieves
Under the woodland cover;
List to the drift of the falling leaves,
List to the wail of the lover.
Have you not caught the message heard
Already by wave and breeze and bird?
Come, come away to the river's bank,
Come in the early morning;
Come when the grass with dew is dank,
There you will find the warning —
A hint in the kiss of the quickening air
Of the secret that birds and breezes bear.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Shallow Water

Do fish swim up-river
Why do they make it so hard
So hard on themselves
Do they not know
Down-river is the way to go

Aha, but what is down-river
There is an enemy
He will look for you
When you go

When you leave your home
Unfamiliar territory
Your waters become are shallow

Do not be afraid of the enemy
But take a freind where you go

Do not fear the shallow

poem by Deci Hernandez
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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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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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A Shower

Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise

Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips

Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack

Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!

poem by Monalno Kim
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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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The Singing River

The river tumbles onwards to the sea,
And rushes, racing over rocks and stones,
And boulders, branches, pebbles, sand and scree,
Singing so many melodies to me,
In whispering notes and thunderous roaring tones.

Music that lingers in the ears and mind,
Soothing confusing thoughts that come my way,
Easing all stress, so my spirit is resigned,
To watching its water ripple, swirl, glide and wind,
And giving a soft contentment to my day.

Always there, this river, which is never still,
And every night and day, how strong it flows,
Into each pool, each inlet and each new rill,
It does, my thirsty soul, with pleasure fill,
And sets my thoughts on peace, and my 'being' glows.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Blue Kingfisher

Where the little river gleaming
Thro' its shadows green and cool
Broadens to the quiet dreaming
Of a little shady pool;
There an azure jewel burning
O'er the waters you may spy,
Never moving never turning:
'Tis the silent fisher,

Head aloft above the river,
With an apathetic air,
Not the smallest quirk nor quiver
Warns you of my presence there.
Mayhap you will thnk me sleeping -
Dreaming summer days away -
Till you mark a keen eye peeping
Where the tell-tale ripples play.

Now a dive, a sudden darting,
Now a flash of gold and blue,
And the placid waters parting
Let my gleaming body thro'.
Then, long ere the ripples, spreading,
Circle to the pool's green lip
Back to safety I am heading;
And the kill is in my grip.

So I haunt the cool, dark places
By the river, from that hour
When the dawn's bright finger traces
Fairy lights about my bower,
Till the western hilltops redden,
Fade, and vanish I am there,
And the far skies, growing leaden,
Bid me seek my secret lair.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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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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