Bear Creek
Way up on bear creek watching the sun go down.
Way up on bear creek watching the sun go down.
It makes me feel like, Im on my last go round.
The water on bear creek tastes like cherry wine.
The water on bear creek tastes like cherry wine.
You take one drink of it, your tasting it all the time.
If you stay on bear creek youll get like jesse james.
If you stay on bear creek youll get like jesse james.
Youll take two old pistols, and hold up that bear creek train.
Im going high high up on some lonesome hill.
Im going high high up on some lonesome hill.
Look down on bear creek, where my good gal used to live.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cripple Creek
1: well I married a wife in the month of june,
Married her up by the light of the moon.
We live down on cripple creek.
Weve been there about a week.
Chorus: Im a-goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
Goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
2: now cripple creek girls about half-grown,
Jump on a man like a dog on a bone.
Roll my pants up to my knees,
Cross on cripple creek a-when I please.
Chorus: Im a-goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run,
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
Goin down to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Goin down to cripple creek to have some fun.
3: well Im goin to cripple creek, Im goin on a run.
Im a-goin to cripple creek to have some fun.
Chorus: Im a-goin to cripple creek, Im goin on a run,
Goin to cripple creek to have some fun.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bitter Creek
Once I was young and so unsure
Id try any ill to find the cure
An old man told me
Tryin to scold me
oh, son, dont wade to deep in bitter creek,
(bitter creek)
Out where the desert meets the sky
Is where I go when I wanna hide
Oh, peyote (oh,peyote,mm)
She tried to show me
(tried to show me)
You know there aint no cause to weep
At bitter creek
(bitter creek)
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Were gonna hit the road for one last time
We can walk right in and steal em blind
All that money (all that money,ooh..)
No more runnin (no more runnin)
I cant wait to see the old mans face
When I win the race
(bitter creek)
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo,
Doo doo doo doo doo
Doo..........
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By the creek
By the creek
Canoes are extinct and fishing net hung dry
On the mangrove, starved fishes initiate an exodus
By the creek
Idleness I saw in the abode of a young man
In search of oil greed in the wrong ways of the city
By the creek
The gliding seagulls no longer shower kisses on the waves
As gunboats threatens even the creatures underneath the aquatic ridges
By the creek
The night taunts me, of the horrors of the morrow
And the sorrow that lay await
By the creek
The crowd stood still, hungry in their eyes
And food monger, driven away by hostile wind
By the creek
I saw men living comfortably in squalor
Accompany by winds of mediocrity
And greed
By the creek
In addition, I saw the sea eating away farmlands
While the shore reclamation fund mound in politicians save
By the creek
I saw fleeing, vessels from foreign shores
And a deserted jetty a save heaven for militant
poem by Regha Julius
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High And Dry
Last night, I think, I put that home fire out,
Came in late to a cold dark house.
I guess she thinks she got me good this time.
She took all of hers, and most of mine.
She left me high, but I aint dry,
Well, I've got beer and tears to cry.
Well I should be feelin' low,
Up that creek that we all know.
That woman left me high, but I aint dry.
Say bar tender fill 'er up again.
Let's us keep me in the shape I'm in.
And if I can't get her memory to drown,
Well, I'll take it for a swim all over town.
She left me high, but I aint dry,
Well, I've got beer and tears to cry.
Well I should be feelin' low,
Up that creek that we all know.
That woman left me high, but I aint dry.
Hell, I should be feelin' low,
Up that creek that we all know.
Yeah, that woman left me high, but I aint dry.
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farmer, Dying
for Hank and Nancy
Seven thousand acres of grass have faded yellow
from his cough. These limp days, his anger,
legend forty years from moon to Stevensville,
lives on, just barely, in a Great Falls whore.
Cruel times, he cries, cruel winds. His geese roam
unattended in the meadow. The gold last leaves
of cottonwoods ride Burnt Fork creek away.
His geese grow fat without him. Same old insult.
Same indifferent rise of mountains south,
hunters drunk around the fire ten feet from his fence.
What's killing us is something autumn. Call it
war or fever. You know it when you see it: flare.
Vine and fire and the morning deer come half
a century to sip his spring, there, at the far end
of his land, wrapped in cellophane by light.
What lives is what he left in air, definite,
unseen, hanging where he stood the day he roared.
A bear prowls closer to his barn each day.
Farmers come to watch him die. They bring crude offerings
of wine. Burnt Fork creek is caroling. He dies white
in final anger. The bear taps on his pane.
And we die silent, our last days loaded with the scream
of Burnt Fork creek, the last cry of that raging farmer.
We have aged ourselves to stone trying to summon
mercy for ungrateful daughters. Let's live him
in ourselves, stand deranged on the meadow rim
and curse the Baltic back, moon, bear and blast.
And let him shout from his grave for us.
poem by Richard Hugo
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I don't want to save a creek for the creek's sake, but what's in it for human beings.
quote by Jim Fowler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Otter Creek
Past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks flows otter creek.
King fisher in branches, perched, poised.
Skydiver, bullet from above, silent splash, into otter creek.
Muscles plucked from their beds, shells discarded, gathered for fun, pass up not one.
Trout fry swim swiftly, cray fish beneath rocks avoid seeking hands, pincers poised, threatening stance.
Kids crossing fallen logs, catching frogs, skipping rocks, swimming in otter creek.
Mud wars rage, picnic blanket laid on the green glade near otter creek.
We follow paw prints, beneath willow tree roots, den site dug deep into muddy banks of otter creek.
Within the town of Franklinville, hot summers day, sister, niece, and I, our dad's.
Never saw the otters of the creek, only paw prints, left proof of an existence.
In memories I venture, hoping, just a glimpse.
To sit once again, past meadows, beyond trees, down muddy banks, there it flows, otter creek.
poem by Gary Kedron
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The Song And The Sigh
The creek went down with a broken song,
'Neath the sheoaks high;
The waters carried the song along,
And the oaks a sigh.
The song and the sigh went winding by,
Went winding down;
Circling the foot of the mountain high,
And the hillside brown.
They were hushed in the swamp of the Dead Man's Crime,
Where the curlews cried;
But they reached the river the self-same time,
And there they died.
And the creek of life goes winding on,
Wandering by;
And bears for ever, its course upon,
A song and a sigh.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Our Boyhood Haunts
Ho! I'm going back to where
We were youngsters.--Meet me there,
Dear old barefoot chum, and we
Will be as we used to be,--
Lawless rangers up and down
The old creek beyond the town--
Little sunburnt gods at play,
Just as in that far-away:--
Water nymphs, all unafraid,
Shall smile at us from the brink
Of the old millrace and wade
Tow'rd us as we kneeling drink
At the spring our boyhood knew,
Pure and clear as morning-dew:
And, as we are rising there,
Doubly dow'rd to hear and see,
We shall thus be made aware
Of an eerie piping, heard
High above the happy bird
In the hazel: And then we,
Just across the creek, shall see
(Hah! the goaty rascal!) Pan
Hoof it o'er the sloping green,
Mad with his own melody,
Aye, and (bless the beasty man!)
Stamping from the grassy soil
Bruised scents of _fleur-de-lis_,
Boneset, mint and pennyroyal.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Cripple Creek Ferry
Hey, hey cripple creek ferry
Butting through the overhanging trees
Make way for the cripple creek ferry
The waters going down its a mighty tight squeeze.
All alone the captain stands
Hasnt heard from his deck hands.
The gambler tips his hat and walks towards the door.
Its the second half of the cruise.
And you know he hates to lose.
Hey, hey cripple creek ferry
Butting through the overhanging trees
Make way for the cripple creek ferry
The waters going down its a mighty tight squeeze.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Running Water
Playing around like a clown
I didn't see a puddle of water
on the ground
Falling from the dip
I lost my grip
to face down
water dripping
from my head to my draws
It was like
going down Niagra falls
having a view
of all bodys of water
from the creek, lake, river
ocean and sea
I thought I was watching TV
falling from a tree
to what sudden deepth
wait upon me
A great whale waitting
to eat me
to bones
all of my flesh
all I saw
at bottom was rocks and stones
my blood and chest
The bodys of water
was a total mess
Swirving in and out
to the red sea
the Atlantic Ocean was now upon me
I can barely see
Sliding the crust of the narrow Potomac River
I was thirsty
and ready to drink
only to see trash
passing by
I must think
pushing the water fountain
cloud of dirt
beside Oxon Hill Creek
is there any real water
to drink
I was just running water
in my cell
hurt
hoping for the best
water come clean and fresh
poem by LaRon Green Sr.
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Only for you
I can bear any insult
I can bear any misdeed
I can bear any oppression
I can bear the wounds of love or
Those of hatred
I can bear everything
But only for you God
Only for you.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Don Juans Song
The moon is in an ecstasy,
It wanes not nor can grow ;
The heavens are in a mist of love,
And deepest knowledge know :
What things in nature seem to move
Bear love as I bear love ?
And bear my pleasures so?
I bear my love as streams that bear
The sky still flow or shake :
Though deep within, too far on high.
Light blossoms kiss and wake
The waters sooner than the sky ;
And if they kiss and (lie
God made them frail to break.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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A Kind Of Story
a red cliff stands beside
a running creek
from a distance it looks like
a hand
C-shaped trying to give
a view of spring
fluffy clouds hang there
like friends
wanting to save someone
from an impending harm
the valley presents a shadow
of a gray land
offering the promises of
a bumpy harvest
meanwhile everyone watches
how a creek dies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Butterfly
everything is interrelated
nothing is
compartmentalized
thus
when the butterfly in China dies
the bear in Russia also suffers
when the monkey in the Philippines
falls short of the banana
the anaconda of Brazil becomes sterile
when the tiger of Africa kills
the parrot in Paraguay feels
everything is interrelated
nothing is a stone
no one is a creek
we are all one river.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Always Remember The Cool Shade Of The Bamboo Grove
his poverty takes him to long walks
on the paths of hill and mountains for days
the sun scorches his back
he wears his buri hat and covers
his body with big anahaw leaves
he passes the same river that winds
towards his nipa hut, ten times
he plunges his weary feet on
the running waters of the creek
the heavy work he does indeed
turns him into a man of the plough
and the rugged muddy fields
the sweat of his brow and the sighs
of his unbroken spirit, the trials
and the tribulations of his insignificance
above all these, he passes by the
bamboo grove where a creek runs gently by
he remembers her again
his first love his first plunge naked into the water
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Meadowlark
I walked by the creek today.
A meadowlark was on a strand of fence.
Then she flew into a tree that's full of blooms.
The creek runs next to home, my
parents' home, where I grew up.
It was good, in a valley near a pond.
Always summer - nights were never long.
I lived there. I think
Now I'm not too sure.
Ava told me, valley's in your mind.
Not on a map, but in your mind.
Someday, she said, you'll take a walk there.
And swear you saw me fly into a tree.
poem by Rick Stokes
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Sir, What Is Revolution?
a child,
having overheard our conversation,
came to me, and asked,
'sir, what is revolution? '
i thought about it for a moment,
and sitting him on my knee, replied,
'you know when you're outside,
running and playing in the sun,
and you get too hot...
and you go down to the creek
and get a drink of water?
and you stand there enjoying
the shade of the trees,
and the coolness of the wind? '
he nodded his head.
'well, revolution is making sure
that the sunlight, the grasses,
the creek and it's water,
the trees that give shade,
and the wind a blowing...
will always be there,
for you and for your children! '
'and that children everywhere
will be born into a world that's safe,
that they have a home to go to,
and food to eat.
and that your momma and daddy
can sleep at night without worrying! '
the little boys shook his head up and down...
'that's cool... does god do that,
or do we? '
'out of the mouth of babes! ...'
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Great Australian Adjective
The sunburnt ---- stockman stood
And, in a dismal ---- mood,
Apostrophized his ---- cuddy;
"The ---- nag's no ---- good,
He couldn't earn his ---- food -
A regular ---- brumby,
----!"
He jumped across the ---- horse
And cantered off, of ---- course!
The roads were bad and ---- muddy;
Said he, "Well, spare me ---- days
The ---- Government's ---- ways
Are screamin' ---- funny,
----!"
He rode up hill, down ---- dale,
The wind it blew a ---- gale,
The creek was high and ---- floody.
Said he, "The ---- horse must swim,
The same for ---- me and him,
Is something ---- sickenin',
----!"
He plunged into the ---- creek,
The ---- horse was ---- weak,
The stockman's face a ---- study!
And though the ---- horse was drowned
The ---- rider reached the ground
Ejaculating, "----!"
"----!"
This poem was originally published under the title "----!" (The Great Australian Adjective).
C.J. Dennis borrowed the style for his poem 'The Australaise.'
poem by William Thomas Goodge
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Twice Times
There were Two Little Bears who lived in a Wood,
And one of them was Bad and the other was Good.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear left all his buttons undone.
They lived in a Tree when the weather was hot,
And one of them was Good, and the other was Not.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies were worn right through.
They lived in a Cave when the weather was cold,
And they Did, and they Didn't Do, what they were told.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear never had his hand-ker-chee.
They lived in the Wood with a Kind Old Aunt,
And one said 'Yes'm,' and the other said 'Shan't!'
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Four -
But Bad Bear's knicketies were terrible tore.
And then quite suddenly (just like Us)
One got Better and the other got Wuss.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear coughed in his hand-ker-chee!
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies looked like new.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear never left his buttons undone.
There may be a Moral, though some say not;
I think there's a moral, though I don't know what.
But if one gets better, as the other gets wuss,
These Two Little Bears are just like Us.
For Christopher remembers up to Twice Times Ten ...
But I keep forgetting where I put my pen.*
* So I have had to write this one in pencil.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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