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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Related quotes
River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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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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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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The River and The Bank
I'm the river
I'm the bank too
There're times the
Bank revolts
Times when the
River overflows
Can't help...!
I struggle
And try reconcile
But when the river side of me flow
Into the sea
I'm an abandoned bank
And a lonely tear
Among the many tears
Flowing in the sea!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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That Quick Little Brown Dog
that quick little brown dog
jumps over the fence
near the bank of the river,
it is not your dog,
but you happen to be there when it
jumped,
over the fence near the bank of the river
into the river
that deep river with a overrunning
of the water
the dog was struggling to swim back
to the safety of the bank
but it failed and the dog was taken away
by the river and
it was gone,
you wonder why until now you think about that
dead dog
it is not yours but it sticks to your mind
as though it is yours
somehow you think as though you own it
and that you feel so painful about such loss
and you cannot sleep
and then you dream about that quick little brown dog
that drowned
it is barking so hard trying to be alive again
you wake up
with lots of cold sweat
somehow you think again
inside that dream
the face of the quick little brown dog
that jumped over the fence
into the deep river
is yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Freeze Love
You went away without glance
You went away uttering no word
Shall we meet again or it was last?
Without seeing you how could I pass days?
Eyes are becoming river thinking you
Sky is on the ladder of sorrow, because of your love
Unfathomable water in river departs room on bank
If sky is clouded over it must be rain some where
When high tidal pain in sea what to happen of puzzled sailor?
Because of love when you lose all you become lost Simon
Our love is like river
Love at white snow of Himalaya
Love over flowing the Padma- the Meghna river
As the sea is whereabouts of river’s love-
Love of river mixes at out let of sea
Packing in envelop love of snow is send
Our love is like river
You went away without glance
Do not leave in this manner o loveliness
Defiled air at heart causes the love freeze.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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The River
When my wife died I used to walk alone by the river,
but I don’t go near there any more.
Lost souls who had drowned used to speak to me
of the lives they had once before.
Every time I went they asked me to enter the water,
‘It will clear your mind, ’ they said.
I told them that I had never learned how to swim
and drowning is the only thing I dread.
One early morning I was walking along the river-bank
and the bank collapsed beneath my feet.
I found myself being swept along by the raging current
and saw my wife drowning in the deep.
Several of the dead I used to talk with held me under,
my breath expired and I just sank.
My wife pulled me up from the river’s depths
and a fisherman revived me on the bank.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Watching The River Flow
Whats the matter with me,
I dont have much to say,
Daylight sneakin through the window
And Im still in this all-night cafe.
Walkin to and fro beneath the moon
Out to where the trucks are rollin slow,
To sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.
Wish I was back in the city
Instead of this old bank of sand,
With the sun beating down over the chimney tops
And the one I love so close at hand.
If I had wings and I could fly,
I know where I would go.
But right now Ill just sit here so contentedly
And watch the river flow.
People disagreeing on all just about everything, yeah,
Makes you stop and all wonder why.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
Who just couldnt help but cry.
Oh, this ol river keeps on rollin, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does Ill just sit here
And watch the river flow.
People disagreeing everywhere you look,
Makes you wanna stop and read a book.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
That was really shook.
But this ol river keeps on rollin, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does Ill just sit here
And watch the river flow.
Watch the river flow,
Watchin the river flow,
Watchin the river flow,
But Ill sit down on this bank of sand
And watch the river flow.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holidays
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;--
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;--a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Two Boys Fishing
Two little boys fishing
Cheeky lads in short pants
Sitting on a river bank
Sharing sweets and fizzy drinks
Wondering what life may bring.
Two teenage boys fishing
Now shaving in the mornings
Sitting on a river bank
Talking of girls and a first time kiss
Excited by what love may bring.
Two young men at a wedding
Hard working, friends for life
One the groom the other best man
Talking softly waiting for the bride
Who comes so radiant in white.
Two middle-aged men
Abundant with family love and work
Sitting on a river bank
Talking of mortgages, school fees
And of coming Government elections.
Two old men fishing, old and grey
Grandfathers looking back at life
Sitting on a river bank
Grateful for each other's company
Sharing life's highway to God.
poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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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?
The River, Grace
Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.
The river comes to me.
The river flows on.
Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”
Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.
The river comes.
The river flows.
Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free
The river comes.
The river flows.
Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.
River, come to me.
River, flow on.
And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.
They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.
And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.
poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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The Muddy River
I stand upon the bank of the muddy river in awe of what I see.
The river’s roaring waters stumble over each other, rolling beneath its awesome force.
The river widens as the earth crumbles into it.
The power of the river amazes me; its shear force astonishes me,
And its quick movements mesmerize.
My mind drifts with the waters flow,
Traveling further and further downstream.
poem by John Miller
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Lily-white Child
lily white child
hallow to thy fair
the twinklin bliss of thy eye
and beatific expression of thy face
to thy sublime innocent
in d spectrum of thy beauty
Ooh lily-white child
thy aesthetic opulency
like nebula of stars
in the terrain of rainbow
lily white child
smile like of heaven wide
sapphire teeth of angel
hallow to thy halo pure
lily white child
pure like distilled water.
poem by Samuel Francis Leumas
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Painter’s Agony
I want to paint that river
And the scene behind it
The boat and the boatmen
I know everything about
That river
My association with the river
Many a hundred memories
Evenings and sunshines
Floods and slow water
I have lived my life
On the bank of that river
I want to paint
Paint it with the most beautiful colors
I want to borrow some colors
From the colors of paradise
And I love the town
That lives beside the river
Old and dusty
Where shall I take you
In that small town
Every nook and corner
Shall tell you that it knows me
I want to paint that town
In colors of heaven
I want to carry a few children
And take them on a tour
I want to see the town with their eyes
And then go to the riverbank
And meditate for a while
Drink the wine of nature
And get lost into the world of beauty
And flow with the river
Enter every house
My heart throbs in harmony
With every heart in the town
Give me colors divine
Colors from the other world
For I want to paint
That river and that town
(This poem is about a small town on the bank of river Indus)
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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On the bank of river! !
On the bank of river
Living here n there
Liking n luking around
Watchng the facets of dawn n sunset
Throwing marbles on wall
Making anodr colour there
time is gone
cramping to another halt
Hour glance is crazy
Making me glazy
Let's go to beach
Swim n swim
Till the hour halts
On the bank of river
Berrys in tray
Juicy n flavoured
Taking a sip of glaxay
Small piecess of mirrors
Falling n hurting the feet
New galaxay hour halt
Take me to verge of it
On the bank of river
poem by Somia Race
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I know a river
I know a river;
long before I began to hold a pen
those days of-
-'twinkle, twinkle little star'
I know a river;
A river of words;
not river-benue or river-niger
But its a river that flows in human-imagination
And a paper is made as a boat
-paddled with pen
To sail a message to the earth
From heaven's gate
-a lullaby to the infant and wise-words to the adult
I know a river;
Shakespeare and others've been to the river
-they took their bathe and left
Today,
Here I stood by the river bank,
With my colleagues Akewusola habib, Oludipe samuel,
muhammad-ahmad
-Rasak-malik-Gbolahan, Randy michael, Oloidi kingfemi and others
In the young of our days
Bathing in the river of words
Though we're nude in the river
But we're clothe with our imaginations
I know a river;
A river from solomon's source
Now I am swimmer,
-in its floods
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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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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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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A Tall Story part two
There is a bridge that crosses over a river
A river that is eerie and makes you quiver
With the light of the moon the river will gleam
and a boat will go sailing, on its own down
stream. The mist will come from out of the trees
and horrible sounds can be heard in the breeze.
It sounded like cats caught up in a fight a claim
for territory in the dead of night, but cats never fight
on the waters edge just in case they fall over the ledge.
A river bank full of matted reeds where plants had died
without dispersing their seeds.A man dressed in green
who paddles the stream who can be seen clear in the
moonlit beam.Sometimes you hear him digging on
the side of the river bank, could this be true or is it
some sort of a prank
A river full of alge green and that's how it had
always been. No carp, no bream no fish to fish not
even a place for a secret wish.
No river bank wildlife to give it grace, just run over the
bridge and get out of this place.
The story tells of a robber who stood about three feet
tall and because of his height he couldent climbe over
the wall. Now behind the wall was the river which spread
down far and wide and the man in green had a problem
because he could'nt get to the other side.So he hid the
loot inside his boot and started to dig under the wall
but as he dug the water flooded in and he sank to
the bottom of the pool.
Apart from one thing he could not swim and the weight
of the loot that was in his boot no doubt made him take
root.If you go to the river and see the man in green, then
please come back and tell us what you have seen.
This is a tall story one with a short tale, I am sorry it
didn't excit you, but my next one wont fail.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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