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Salmon-Fishing

The days shorten, the south blows wide for showers now,
The south wind shouts to the rivers,
The rivers open their mouths and the salt salmon
Race up into the freshet.
In Christmas month against the smoulder and menace
Of a long angry sundown,
Red ash of the dark solstice, you see the anglers,
Pitiful, cruel, primeval,
Like the priests of the people that built Stonehengc,
Dark silent forms, performing
Remote solemnities in the red shallows
Of the river's mouth at the year's turn,
Drawing landward their live bullion, the bloody mouths
And scales full of the sunset
Twitch on the rocks, no more to wander at will
The wild Pacific pasture nor wanton and spawning
Race up into fresh water.

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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By The Rivers Dark

By the rivers dark
I wandered on.
I lived my life
In babylon.
And I did forget
My holy song:
And I had no strength
In babylon.
By the rivers dark
Where I could not see
Who was waiting there
Who was hunting me.
And he cut my lip
And he cut my heart.
So I could not drink
From the river dark.
And he covered me,
And I saw within,
My lawless heart
And my wedding ring,
I did not know
And I could not see
Who was waiting there,
Who was hunting me.
By the rivers dark
I panicked on.
I belonged at last
To babylon.
Then he struck my heart
With a deadly force,
And he said, this heart:
It is not yours.
And he gave the wind
My wedding ring;
And he circled us
With everything.
By the rivers dark,
In a wounded dawn,
I live my life
In babylon.
Though I take my song
From a withered limb,
Both song and tree,
They sing for him.
Be the truth unsaid
And the blessing gone,
If I forget
My babylon.
I did not know
And I could not see
Who was waiting there,
Who was hunting me.
By the rivers dark,
Where it all goes on;
By the rivers dark
In babylon.

song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bloody Christmas

Dark rewrite of Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Terrorists, you're gonna have yourselfs a bloody little Christmas this year
Watch out for our dynamite
From this moment on
You will live on in an endless nuclear night

Terrorists, you're gonna have yourselfs a bloody little Christmas this year
Especially those of you ugly mugs who are gay
From this moment on
You will live yearning and hopeless
For your families and friends so many miles away

For the good ole U.S.A
These will be our most golden days
Happy golden days of yore
As one by one
Metals and badges of the highest honor are awarded to us
Because we torn apart and took down you terrorist whores

Through the long, cruel years ahead
If the fates allow
We will fly our star spangled flag high on the highest bough
Just to show you who's truely in charge
Sleep tight tonight if you can
For soon enemy foes
You'll be having yourselfs a bloody little Christmas now

Terrorists, you're gonna have a bloody Christmas
Terrorists, you're gonna have a bloody Christmas
Terrorists, you're have a bloody Christmas
And an even worse New Year

2008 Ramona Thompson

poem by Ramona Thompson
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My Hands

my hands have ten rivers
there are furrows of sorrows in the destiny of my palms
no mountain peaks to view the world
holistically,

my hands have ten crystal clear ponds
my hands mirror my face
my hands surrender
my hands open

they are all yours too and you are so cruel
you are telling me like you detest me in the residence of your full moon

you do not need rivers, you had enough of my surrender, you are ashamed
of open hands, you touch me and then you make a plea

'please close your hands and with your ten rivers, please sail away from me! '

i know what a full moon is. I too had enough of its light and silence.
i have the nerves of the stars, and i know what sailing away means.

let me thank you for your dark skies, your clouds are too heavy for me.
i am raining tears, too salty for my ten rivers.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Temagami

Far in the grim Northwest beyond the lines
That turn the rivers eastward to the sea,
Set with a thousand islands, crowned with pines,
Lies the deep water, wild Temagami:
Wild for the hunter's roving, and the use
Of trappers in its dark and trackless vales,
Wild with the trampling of the giant moose,
And the weird magic of old Indian tales.
All day with steady paddles toward the west
Our heavy-laden long canoe we pressed:
All day we saw the thunder-travelled sky
Purpled with storm in many a trailing tress,
And saw at eve the broken sunset die
In crimson on the silent wilderness.

poem by Archibald Lampman
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A calm river flow

Rivers are calm when flow quietly
You can hear from distance very gently
It touches the bank and flows silently
The constant move is on relentlessly

Rivers are named as mother too
It has proved very true
It can effectively prove as water way
They will be there for dominant play

Rivers continue to create fever
She has been dreaded with fear
When she has water flow and is in spate
No amount of words can help to state

Some rives are considered as death rivers
They bring catastrophes and shivers
They are feared most in people’s mind
They may be dangerous and so much unkind

Our lives are totally dependent on small or big
In every season she will make a dig
She will be like virgin lady
Rushing to meet her nice buddy

Every thing to face ruin on the way
She has still decisive role to play
It can be considered as our life line
She is kind, calm and always fine

When bloody wars were waged on the banks?
Many ships were made to sink
The blood continued to flow in the crystal water
Still men did not turn out to be hater

River has witnessed rise and fall of the empires
They continued to fight for lands to acquire
What made them to run for bloody race?
It was unclear from any angle to asses the case

Rivers may leave behind very good imprint
She may come and go with sound warning and hint
It is our misfortune that we are unable to control
Plenty of water to be enjoyed while on stroll

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Water

‘Water, water, everywhere;
Mostly unfit to drink;
Rivers, lakes get polluted;
Nobody seems to care! ’

‘Fresh-water is scarcely found;
Most mouths, much land remains so parched;
Much water seems to go awaste;
Whither our earth is bound? ’

‘The glaciers, ice-caps are melting;
Gone down are water-tables;
Fresh-water is sold in bottles;
To where are we earthlings heading? ’

poem by John Celes
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Negro Speaks of Rivers

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

poem by Langston Hughes
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The Negro Speaks Of Rivers

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

poem by Langston Hughes
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Truth... Demands An Audience

i keep watching
old people dying...
with unspoken living,
trembling on their lips.

truth...
demands an audience!
the silent screams
of mountains and rivers defiled.

even the trees whisper,
the sad hurt of poverty.
the wind cries of justice,
in the empty rooms of god.

do you tire of this flame?
wish i'd go away?
give it time,
even my footprints will disappear.

trees will fall,
mountains will crumble.
and the oil raped rivers
will stink of death.

hungry mouths will go unnoticed.
without faces or names.
cities full of empty buildings
will murmur in the night.

and nothing will return
to claim it's just reward.
the unmarked stone stays silent...
even the silence tastes bitter!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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When The Wind Blows

So long child, Im on my way
And after all is done, after all is done
Dont be down, its all in the past
Though you may be afraid
So long child, its awful dark
And Ive never felt the sun
I dread to think of when
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
Life burns a savage wound, angry and wrong
Trusting a twisted word, youll run, run away
Youll take him home
Youll spit and taunt him
But they wont believe you
No matter what youll say
So long child, its awful dark
I never felt the sun
I dread to think of when
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows
When the wind blows

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tale Of Meenkumar

Long long ago
Man used to live on the bank of the ocean
There were many lakes and rivers surrounding the ocean
The banks of the rivers and lakes were full of trees
Many forests were there
Those were deep forests
In the forests there were many wild animals
Man lived on the bank of the ocean
Because of the danger of the wild animals
Except farmers, fishermen, craftspeople abode there
Fishermen knew fishes were the saviors of their life
So they didn't catch fish every time
They didn't catch fish unless it was necessary
They didn't kill the fry and not even the pregnant fish
There was the Meen kingdom in the oceans
What is Meen?
It is a kind of fish
They used to rule the kingdom of the oceans
One day, one Meen prince came out of the palace because of forgetfulness of mind
He was roaming and came at a place full of mosses and rocks
There were many big and small fishes
One big Salmon fish was delighted to see the beauty of the Meen prince
He felt greed to eat him
Meen prince escaped when he saw the salmon swimming towards him
Meen prince hid himself under the rocks
Salmon knew that Meen cannot stay for a long time there
When he would come, he would catch him and eat
It would be a wonderful dinner for him
Meen prince passed the night by hiding under the rocky place
Early in the morning, fishermen came to catch fish
Meen prince saw a child fisherman
He requested him to save his life
Finally the fishermen encircled the Salmon fish and caught it
Meen thanked the child fisherman and luckily returned to the palace
This was the tale of Meenkumar....

poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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Rain

Waiting for the rain

At the rivers edge

Waiting for rain under a raging sun

Standing on cracked earth

The river pulls back from the mouth of the shore

Hungry for rain

Mouths drink their own tears

Feet dance to an unfashionable 'rain god'

Beating a drum limp wristed

In a distant land the casualties rise

Their carcasses loaded like dead cattle on the back of a cart

Two woman argue by a well with no water

An old man wanders across deserts calling out to his lost child

Rain rain, when will the rain fall?

An anthem of doomed lives cry out

Back home fat men with two cars cut back on sprinkling their lawn

'That's the first time in in three years'

Their mouths are full and greedy as they guzzle water from a bottle

But their hearts are full of drought

Families lounge in sprawling gardens admiring the view

Complaining about the lack of water

Until the rain god breaks suddenly breaks through

Not rain the idlers complain

While in the East far far away

The people make a joyful offerring to the skies

Dancing under the darkened night

Rejoicing in the god that spared their lives for one more day!

poem by Yvette Smith
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Ah Me! Ah Me!

Ah, me! Ah, me! My weary doom to labour here in the Palace!
Seven good wine-jars have I - and three in my province.
There where they stand I have hung straight-stemmed gourds of the finest -
They turn to the West when the East wind blows,
They turn to the East when the West wind blows,
They turn to the North when the South wind blows,
They turn to the South when the North wind blows.
And there I sit watching them turning and turning forever-
Oh, my gourds! Oh, my wine-jars!

poem by Sugawara Takesue no Musume
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Port Fairy In January

Port Fairy in January on a warm and humid saturday
The beach full of people the young splash and play
In the shallows where the small waves splash onto the beach
In a place safe to swim where the life savers can reach
Anyone who gets in trouble and for help have to shout
To the beach for safety they will drag them out
And if necessary so give them mouth to mouth
The worth of the Life Saver is never in doubt
In the prime of the Summer at the start of the New Year
When people still enjoy the Seasonal cheer
Ageing and younger people and many girl and boy
A dip in salt-water do seem to enjoy
People of all ages and colours and mostly every Race
Make Port Fairy in January quite a busy place.

poem by Francis Duggan
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With You Babe

how can a dark night be dark
and damp?
how can a day be so hot
and wild?
with you babe,
soft white skin
smooth thighs
button nipples
strawberry lips
eyes telling me
'come here baby
get me get me! '
conquer me!

how can a dark night be dark
and damp?
how can a day be so hot
and wild?
with you babe,

another day or month
another year perhaps

how can time be so cruel
choking my dreams
pushing me to the edge
of my existence?

hold me make me live
i am tough i am hard.
love me! '

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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North And South Of The River

I want to reach out over the Loch
And feel your hand across the water
Walk with you along an unapproved road
Not looking over my shoulder
I want to see, and I want to hear
To understand your fears
But we're north and south of the river
I've been doing it wrong all of my life
This holy town has turned me over
A young man running from what he didn't understand
The wind from the Loch just get colder, colder
There was a badness that had its way
But love wasn't lost, love will have its day
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Can we stop playing these old tattoos
Darling I don't have the answer
I want to meet you where you are
I don't need you to surrender
'Cause there's no feeling that's so alone
As when the one you're hurting is your own
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Some high ground is not worth taking
Some connections are not worth making
There's an old church bell no longer ringing
Some old songs are not worth bringing
North...
(Higher ground is not worth taking)
North and south of the river

song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembering South of the River

South river good
Landscape old once know well
Sunrise river flower red bear fire
Spring come river water green like lily
Can not remember river south
South of the river is good,
Long ago, I knew the landscape well.
At sunrise, the river's flowers are red like fire,
In spring, the river's water's green as lilies.
How could I not remember south of the river?

poem by Bai Juyi
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Candy sweet kisses on rivers of red

Deep, and dark

the inner recesses of my mind

blood flows like rivers

on lolipop islands

Candy sweet kisses

..s so deep

you could swim in

the rivers

of my arms.

And i live there now

And i pray there now

for god to come take me

and make me whole

For i am shattered

And broken

and frayed

And i want to see the light again

So dark

Are the candy sweet kisses

on rivers of red.

poem by Katherine H. Belle
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Sediments of life

Fresh and so curious
With purity and innocence,
What lies ahead, eager to know
As a stream we start to flow

Along this course down a hill
So many brooks of hope and vision
….of strength, dream and will
Conjoin as big river
Step ahead and flow further

In the course of life
This river is just young
Wild is its imagination
So strong, its ambition
Upwelling of its emotions
To secure a future, identity to define
Push the flow to rapids, down the valley to fly
The river of youth, went in speedy currents
On its way carried what was there on the earth

Down a deep gorge
As the water swiftly surge
Its strength at climax
Churn the drift to cataracts
In misty foam or a rainbow’s arc
The river leaves a benchmark

We as rivers, flow in currents
Posing on achievement and failure
Unfaltering and calm is the mid course river
Wide is its bank, serene its journey
As it steadily flows for legacy

On trails of time clays to imprint
To pass on layers of silt,
To witness its once existence,
It residues on the track of life

We as rivers, flow in currents
The long trip from its head
Through its voyage to recollect
At the last course, in the sunset
The river ponders on its sediment

At the mouth awaits the sea
As an outlet to infinity
And mistakes learned, toiled effort
Life of success, well travelled path
Enough sediments, brings about
Fertile ground to cultivate
A platform to reflect
Delta of life before the sea
Leaves the river to eternity…

Sediments of life to pile up
At the end since the start
Determined to move, if hope ever fails
The river ends without a trace
Through sieve of life, having no sift
The salty water the river meets

Rivers we are, to sediment in time
Flow in currents, life to define.

poem by Fasika Ayalew
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The Old Prison

The rows of cells are unroofed,
a flute for the wind's mouth,
who comes with a breath of ice
from the blue caves of the south.

O dark and fierce day:
the wind like an angry bee
hunts for the black honey
in the pits of the hollow sea.

Waves of shadow wash
the empty shell bone-bare,
and like a bone it sings
a bitter song of air.

Who built and laboured here?
The wind and the sea say
-Their cold nest is broken
and they are blown away-

They did not breed nor love,
each in his cell alone
cried as the wind now cries
through this flute of stone.

poem by Judith Wright
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Salmon-Fishing

Related quotes

By The Rivers Dark

A Bloody Christmas

My Hands

Temagami

A calm river flow

Water

Negro Speaks of Rivers

The Negro Speaks Of Rivers

Truth... Demands An Audience

When The Wind Blows

The Tale Of Meenkumar

Rain

Ah Me! Ah Me!

Port Fairy In January

With You Babe

North And South Of The River

Remembering South of the River

Candy sweet kisses on rivers of red

Sediments of life

The Old Prison

En.Citatepedia^®.ro