Cooum
Near the cinema
Stripping women
Of their souls
The river quietly breathes
Stoic like a saint
Though dying of the city's sins
On the bridge the harlot
Too weary to walk the streets
Stands staring at the waters
Mourning the river
She had lost in her hamlet
Where it skipped like a girl
Without a care
Frothing foaming giggling
Unlike the river here
Dying of the city's sins
poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Teach The Gifted Children
Teach the gifted children
Teach them to have mercy
Teach them about sunsets
Teach them about moonrise
Teach them about anger
The sin that comes with dawning
Teach them about flowers
And the beauty of forgetfulness
Then take me to the river (take me to the river)
And put me in the water (and put me in the water)
Bless them and forgive them (take me to the river)
Father cause they just dont know (take me to the river)
All the gifted children
Teach the gifted children
The way of men and animals
Teach them about cities
The history of the mysteries
Their vice and their virtues
About branches that blow in the wind
On the wages of their sins
Teach them of forgiveness
Teach them about mercy
Teach them about music
And the cool and cleansing waters
What do they say, take me to the river (take me to the river)
Take me to the river (take me to the river)
Put me in the water (take me to the river)
And teach the gifted children (take me to the river)
All the gifted children (take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
(take me to the river)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River Knows
Englyn unodle crwca
Quietly the river flows
never telling all it knows.
Has no reason I suppose and no voice.
We rejoice it does.
Whilst the river holds its peace.
We need not fear it might release,
From its store of memories: Dark secrets.
It forgets and heeds our pleas.
Secrets which we wish to hide.
We can cast our cares aside.
The wise river will decide, not to tell.
suits us well, all denied
Sins we now view with regret
.Sins we would we could forget
The river will keep secret for ever
and never cause upset.
Tuesday,09 February 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Proud Mary
Left a good job in the city,
Workin for the man evry night and day,
And I never lost one minute of sleepin,
Worryin bout the way things might have been.
Chorus:
Big wheel keep on turnin,
Proud mary keep on burnin,
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
Cleaned a lot of plates in memphis,
Pumped a lot of pain down in new orleans,
But I never saw the good side of the city,
til I hitched a ride on a river boat queen.
Chorus
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
If you come down to the river,
Bet you gonna find some people who live.
You dont have to worry cause you have no money,
People on the river are happy to give.
Chorus
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grand Rapids
Air -- "Bright Alfaretta"
Wild roved the Indians once
On the banks of Grand River,
And they built their little huts
Down by that flowing river.
In a pleasant valley fair,
Where flows the river rapid,
An Indian village once was there,
Where now stands Grand Rapids.
Indian girls and boys were seen,
With their bow and quiver,
Riding in their light canoes
Up and down the river.
Their hearts were full of joy,
Happy voices singing
Made music with forest birds,
They kept the valley ringing.
Indians have left and gone
Beyond the Mississippi.
They called the river Owashtenong
Where stands this pleasant city.
Louis Campau the first white man
Bought land in Grand Rapids.
He lived and died, an honored man
By people of Grand Rapids.
When Campau came to the valley
No bridge was across the river;
Indians in their light canoes
Rowed them o'er the water.
Railroads now from every way
Run through the city, Grand Rapids;
The largest town in west Michigan
Is the city of Grand Rapids.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Driving Through Downtown Sacramento At 3 A.m. Thinking About Our Poems
The city is shivering, empty,
and looks like a model
of another city far away;
somewhere we will never go.
Rainy streets slip by, lights
flash yellow; caution! The river
is black, dimpled, and we ask -
What is this Forever anyway?
But the river doesn't answer,
and the city doesn't answer -
all of this is in our head.
All of this is in our poem.
poem by James Lee Jobe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ecce Ancilla Domini.
Behold the Handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to Thy word.'
The Angelus
The bells from St. Mary's still rings in the twilight
though I am a million miles away
from my hometown in which I was raised.
I hear them this early evening,
somehow they ring out this end of day
that falls, lies, then drowns
into the waters off this big city river bridge
where I sit alone,
just thinking
across the river
Ophelia closes her shop
the books standing alone, now
in perfect attention
waiting to be held
waiting to be read
I understand the books
this river's light and its reflections hold me now
and that, that is good
like the light always seems to be
though its passing will silence
the mourning birds
deepening my melancholia
like the waters of this river....
still, for now
the light shines
as the Angelus Bells ring
the light dancing
across the waters of this wide river
(Mars and Venus ascending)
that sameness of light reflects
in the eyes, the smile of Ophelia
who closes the doors
on the books
in the shop
who wait to be held
who wait to be read
who wait to be understood
as we all do
or hope to
before the Angelus Bells
ring us out of our days....
poem by R. James Sterzinger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Proud Mary
(words & music by john fogerty)
Left a good job in the city
Workin for the man every night and day
Havent ever lost one minute of sleeping
Worried about the way things might have been
Been a lot of places down in memphis
I umped a lot of babes down in new orleans
Had a lot of shots at good times in the city
Till I hitched a ride on a river bout queen
A big wheel keeps on turnin
Proud mary keeps on burnin, rollin, rollin
Rollin on a river
Rollin, rollin, rollin on a river
If you come down to the river
I betcha youre gonna find some people who live
You dont have to worry
cause you have no money
People along the river are happy to give
I said a big wheel keeps on turnin
Proud mary keeps on burnin, rollin, rollin
Rollin on a river
Rollin, rollin, rollin on a river
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodbye To A River
(don henley/stan lynch/jai winding/frank simes)
The rains have come early, they say
Were all gonna wash away
Well, thats all right with me
If heavens torrent can wash clean
The arrogance that lies unseen
In the damage done since we have gone
Where we ought not to be
Goodbye to a river
Goodbye to a river
So long
Lakes and levees, dams and locks
They put that river in a box
It was running wild
And men must have control
We live our lives in starts and fits
We lose our wonder bit by bit
We condescend and in the end
We lose our very souls
Goodbye to a river
Goodbye to a river
So long
The dirty water washes down
Poisoning the common ground
Taking sins of farm and town
And bearing them away
The captains of industry
And their tools on the hill
Theyre killing everything divine
What will I tell this child of mine
(solo)
I make a church out of words
As the years dull my senses
And I try to hold on to the world that I knew
I struggle to cross generational fences
And the beauty that still remains
I can touch it through you
Goodbye to a river
Goodbye to a river
So long
Goodbye to a river
Goodbye to a river
So long
Goodbye to a river
Goodbye to a river
So long
Goodbye to a river
Goodbye to a river
Roll on
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghostown
i live in this ghostown
the whispers from the walls fall like feathers to the ground
i walk upon these cemetary streets
and i don't speak the language of the skeletons that i meet
i live in this ghostown
the acid from the architecture is burning the place down
i wander through these solitary streets
they're empty as an afterthought in purple pools of gasoline
the river's all in flames
i can't go home again
this city speaks in rain
i live in this ghostown
the coffee burns like kerosene and the color of my world is brown
i look out on these melancholy streets
it's quiet as a photograph and lonley as my vanity
the river's all in flames
i can't go home again
this city's rearranged
i'm never going to leave this ghostown
song performed by by Zox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shonin
These eyes have seen the fire from the sky
I felt the heat a thousand clicks away
At first no screams, just people turned to shadows
A sunburst touched to earth one fatal day.
These eyes have seen my City turned to ashes
I have heard her women sobbing in despair
I stood alone amidst my city dying
No God above to whom I’d make a prayer..
And now I stand before a Buddhist temple
A different city and a river view.
This city seems most beautiful and vibrant
Hiroshima what has become of you?
The historic statue of Shinran Shonin, founder of the Judo Shinshu school of Buddhism, now stands in front of the New York Buddhist Church on Riverside Drive in New York City.. This statue of Shinran Shonin survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, in which 150,000 people died, and 90 percent of the buildings in the city collapsed or burned.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Life Is Like a River
The surface is calm, smooth and glassy,
Beauty reflected therein
An occasional ripple, or eddy,
Betrays the stillness and calm
Follow the river a while, for the eddies
Enlarge further on;
Twisting & turning, now restless,
They leap over log, fern and stone
The valley is wider, and deeper,
The river is roaring in pain
Currents confused and pulsating,
Thrashing and foaming in vain.
The cliff face is yawning & threatening,
The river is wild in its' rage;
And now, in reckless abandon,
It hurtles as it's done for an age
Right over the cliff, and onto the rocks
Where it knocks itself senseless to pain;
Now the river is curled in a pool far below,
Relieved and released from the strain
'Lord I'm ignoring the boundaries
As a river, I'm bursting my banks;
My currents are frothing and foaming
I don't want to stay in the ranks.
I need You to help me, Lord Jesus,
For You calmed the wild, raging sea
I need You to heal me, and bless me
To pour oil on the storms inside me.
poem by Jinge Norvall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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