Lament
To the memory of my mother
And now she has over her head brown clouds of roots
a slim lily of salt on the temples beads of sand
while she sails on the bottom of a boat through foaming nebulas
a mile beyond us where the river turns
visible-invisible as the light on a wave
truly she isn't different-abandoned like all of us
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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Related quotes
2010/07/26 Auric Light
An invisible string to thread my small crystal
beads, even Tiaan helping because I cannot
see to do it myself, it would take me a hundred
years at least to complete one string
I wanted to make many strings to represent my
vision of auric light shining out, but after an epic
struggle I gave up and upended the beads in
crystal glasses to enjoy the pristine shine
Without destroying my eyes, Tiaan commenting
‘After suffering for many years to string beads, I
found the solution, dumping beads everywhere’
and I laughed, Nici only shaking her head
While busy with her bead-making craft - I also love
the effect of beads in sea-shells, resembling coarse
salt but with a new shine, no more threading for me
I cannot see, it felt too much like torture
My new system brings us miniature rainbows with-
out the heartache of threading invisible strings
with translucent beads!
poem by Margaret Alice
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Behind Every Gross Appearance Has Invisible Subtle!
Isn't it true
neither moon nor universe, not
even I or you are visible without the
invisible in us.
Visible all are, only because of
that more invisible in us! Behind every visible gross
appearance, there is more
invisible subtle appearance,
When we look at the picture,
We usually forget the canvas,
When watching a TV program, usually we can't see how
invisible electrons produce the
image.
I cannot see my own face,
just as God hides his face to us...
Therefore, could it be that we
have one and the same face?
our face is one of His face,
Yet as he can look at his other
faces using one that he can't see,
We are looking at our other faces
using this one, That we can't see,
This is the truth that The God
uses this face to look at other
faces! Yet we visible to that invisible,
And we are visible only due to
that invisible ground on which
whole world play,
World itself is visible face of that
invisible face, Every life become visible only
because of that who hides is face
behind beauty and ugly faces
alike!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Loboc River Cruise
we finally huddled in a boat
well decorated with some flowers
like the one in the Rose Parade
the boat slowly sails in the River
with a matching band of guitars and
animal skin drums
a woman sings another woman dances
as we see how the brown river is sliced
by the boat on the water
until we arrive at the end of this journey
where there is a waterfall
and then we turn back
to our way again
not really monotonous
and not a waste of time
been here i think seven times
but the river still sings
a lonely song
in my
heart
legend says....
there was once a beautiful maiden....
her heart was broken...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Night Boat To Cairo
Night boat to cairo !!.....
Its just gone noon
Half past monsoon
On the banks of the river nile
Here comes the boat
Only half-afloat
Oarsman grins a toothless smile
Only just one more
To this desolate shore
Last boat along the river nile
Doesnt seem to care
No more wind in his hair
As he reaches his last half mile
The oar snaps in his hand
Before he reaches dry land
But the sound doesnt deafen his smile
Just pokes at wet sand
With an oar in his hand
Floats off down the river nile
Floats off down the river nile
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Eastern River
Do not look for the stones
in water above the mud,
the boat is gone.
No longer with nets and baskets
the river is dotted.
The sun wick,
the marsh marigold flickered out in rain.
Only the willow still bears witness,
in its roots
the secrets of tramps lie hidden,
their paltry treasures,
a rusty fishhook,
a bottle full of sand,
a tine with no bottom,
in which to preserve
conversations long forgotten.
On the boughs,
empty nests of the penduline titmice,
shoes light as birds.
No one slips them
over children's feet.
Translated by Michael Hamburger
poem by Peter Huchel
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Boat On The River (Frankfurt 2000)
Take me back to my boat on the river
I need to go down, I need to come down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
Time stands still as I gaze in her waters
She eases me down, touching me gently
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river
So I don't cry out anymore
Oh the river is wide
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
Oh the river is deep
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
I need to go down, won't you let me go down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
And I won't cry out anymore
And I won't cry out anymore
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boat On The River
Take me back to my boat on the river
I need to go down, I need to come down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out any more
Time stands still as I gaze in her waters
She eases me down, touching me gently
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river
So I dont cry out anymore
Oh the river is wide
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to tranquillity base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out anymore
Oh the river is deep
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to tranquillity base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
I need to go down, with you let me go down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out anymore
And I wont cry out anymore
And I wont cry out anymore
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Houtbay beach
A young girl and an old man
walk down steps
to the stretch
that the beach at Houtbay
throws against the sea.
There are some small fishing boats
in colours of blue,
orange and white
that sails into the sea,
but big white cabin cruisers
bobs up and down
next to the quay
some distance away
as if they are ownerless
while their bosses
play somewhere else.
The smell of sea-pike
roasting on coals
lies on the light wind
and their stomachs growl
of sudden hunger
and here and there
the girl stoops
to pick up shells.
His sturdy boots leaves flat tracts
on the firm sand
and there’s a brown wood walking stick
with a lion head in his hand
and the girl’s
bare foot tracts
run in advance.
The sea swishes in and out
and the wet sand
reflects a bright open day
and the blue water
stretches out
as far as you can see
and it’s as if he gets new power
next to the foaming water.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Golden Boat
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.
One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.
Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.
Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.
Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.
No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Water's Edge
Wet salt sand, water’s edge
Rushing sound of surf and rolling sea.
As if each wave were a deep deep breath
And the surt but a gentle exhalation
The breeze light over the ocean arriving from who knows where
With messages of calm.
The sun playing games with the fragile whisps of clouds
Hide and seek, catch me if you can games
And the smells and the scents and fragrances
Telling of the world beyond and along and backing onto that shore line.
Messages not in a bottle but of the world
The world of the gentle and the strong
Of the motionless and the moving
Where a simple line marks out clear
What is far and what is near.
Gazing out to sea
Just me
And the shore
And the water’s edge
And the sun
And the breeze
And the swirl of senses
That chase clouds and roll and rush and whisper
At that wet salt sand water’s edge
This all comes to me.
poem by David Keig
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Waterlily
waterlily
waterlily
green my bottom is white eye do have the longest roots in this pond of brooks Walden the frog is not real heavy he is one of the young ones eye suppose he likes me he feels safe sitting me eye dew enjoy his company the things this lily pad does is float then dream of love the fish here got lazy they do not even nibble on my roots eye like to pretend to live forever its so cool when the sky clouds up eye no longer fear the rain falls from the white sky the drops not even disturbing my wort up top the frog shudders then relaxes letting the water cascade past him to the river is under us under the ground the underground river is found below the water line the water is not good to drink dark swirling blackish stench but here the life is clean the air is pure where frogs sit on these lilypads to dream of love in Walden's pond
poem by Charles Hice
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Adelaide Crapsey
Among the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July,
I read your heart in a book.
And your mouth of blue pansy—I know somewhere I have seen it rain-shattered.
And I have seen a woman with her head flung between her naked knees, and her head held there listening to the sea, the great naked sea shouldering a load of salt.
And the blue pansy mouth sang to the sea:
Mother of God, I’m so little a thing,
Let me sing longer,
Only a little longer.
And the sea shouldered its salt in long gray combers hauling new shapes on the beach sand.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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I See A Boat On A River
He left on a boat
Just to follow a dream
He had to find.
You can't hold a man
When he follows a dream
That's on his mind.
I see a boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
I waited for him
Such a very long time,
Don't know what for
'cause i should have known
When he left on the boat
We'll meet no more.
I see a boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river.
You're bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
There were people who came
And said it's really a shame,
Why did he take off
To follow just a dream.
But i guess they were wrong,
In life you're sailing along
And things don't turn out
As simple as they seem.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
I see a boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
I see a boat on the river.
You're bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Deserted River
THE river is complete nude,
no water or a stream,
no birds which flies around,
no beast animal visit to quench its thirst,
the boat half sank in the sand,
the boater left the bank,
the edges of river disappered,
no soul around,
the river is deserted till miles,
slowly the black clouds appeared,
suddenly it disapperaed,
the river dies a lonely death.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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Where are you going little girl?
the wooden boat
on one end the little girl with her paddle
a little longer than her frail body
then her mother and her younger sister
under a yellow umbrella against the sun
i can feel her firm tiny hands that hold the paddle
stab the river and stir to make this murkiness
she holds it on clear directions she struggles to push
the water to move the boat
as the sun scorches her brown skin
shiny and thin and yet so unfrightened
i am asking the philosophical question
to you elvi where are they going?
and you where are you going too?
do not answer me with the name of a place
it is the usual answer, tell me more about what i do not know
the one that stirs the river that one that pushes the boat
the one that must make the mother fold her umbrella
the one that must make the little girl stop her paddling
the answer that exhausts all options
the one that must make us shift our paradigms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Widow's Lullaby
She droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The sun comes up from the lea,
As he who will never come more
Came up that first day to her door,
When the ship furled her sails by the shore,
And the spring leaves were green on the tree.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The sun goes down in the sea,
As he who will never go more
Went down that last day from her door,
When the ship set her sails from the shore,
And the dead leaves were sere on the tree.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The year comes glad o'er the lea,
As he who will never come more,
Never, ah never!
Came up that first day to her door,
When the ship furled her sails by the shore,
And the spring leaves were green on the tree.
Never, ah never!
He who will come again, never!
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The year goes sad to the sea,
As he who will never go more
For ever went down from her door,
Ever, for ever!
When the ship set her sails by the shore,
And the dead leaves were sere on the tree.
Ever, for ever!
For ever went down from her door.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
A gun, and a flash, and a gun,
The ship lies again where she lay!
High and low, low and high, in the sun,
There's a boat, a boat on the bay!
High and low, low and high, in the sun,
All as she saw it that day,
When he came who shall never come more,
And the ship furled her sails by the shore.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
All as she saw it that day,
With a gun, and a flash, and a gun,
The ship lies again where she lay,
And they run, and they ride, and they run,
Merry, merry, merry, down the merry highway,
To the boat, high and low in the sun.
Nearer and nearer she hears the rolling drum,
Clearer and clearer she hears the cry, 'They come,'
Far and near runs the cheer to her ear once so dear,
Merry, merry, merry, up the merry highway,
As it ran when he came that day
And said, 'Wilt thou be my dearie?
Oh, wilt thou be my dearie?
My boat is dry in the bay,
And I'll love till thou be weary!'
And she could not say him nay,
For his bonny eyes o' blue,
And never was true-love so true,
To never so kind a dearie,
As he who will never love more,
When the ship furls her sails by the shore.
Then she shakes like a wind-stricken lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Every Day Is Festival!
Every dawn is decorated,
as if an auspicious day,
As if everyday is festival,
On the treetops shining bulbs of dews,
like golden beads and bulbs,
Every leaf of grass bent with dew drops weight,
As if bowing to welcome the Sun,
fields look like green lakes,
wave of breeze,
on the mountain peak,
Clouds dancing around,
Golden rays piercing darkness,
Shining globules of dews,
Shining like decorative light bulbs,
Reflecting face of nature,
Bathed fresh,
look like a woman just excited
to welcome Sun,
her eternal Love!
Busy birds flying above,
Singing their own song,
Every heart has a song,
Busy, yet hearts kept cool by morning breeze!
In the flow of river,
Or in the sound of waterfalls,
The mantra that chanted,
With bells of temples and churches,
Call for prayer from mosques heard,
But call of love
in every heart is strongly heard,
than any sound
Light of love, melts hearts,
Melts negative feelings,
Bathing in beauty,
Every day is festival,
O mother, you are divine,
Washed by morning dews,
You make everyone to bathe in thy beauty,
just like mother calls children,
When father returns home,
Earth welcomes Sun,
With her children,
Shining whole nature as one!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I See A Boat On The River
He left on a boat
Just to follow a dream
He had to find.
You cant hold a man
When he follows a dream
Thats on his mind.
I see a boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
I waited for him
Such a very long time,
Dont know what for
cause I should have known
When he left on the boat
Well meet no more.
I see a boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river.
Youre bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
There were people who came
And said its really a shame,
Why did he take off
To follow just a dream.
But I guess they were wrong,
In life youre sailing along
And things dont turn out
As simple as they seem.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
I see a boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
I see a boat on the river.
Youre bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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