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Poems On / About RIVER  1/30/2015 3:22:04 AM
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Best Poems About / On RIVER
 
 
 
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  233.     

#381 Haiku Pillow Clouds

Angel pillow clouds
Fill sky reflecting below
Cast spell on river (1)


Angel pillow clouds
Float like sail boats on river
Splendor of trees gasp (2)

Nov.2nd,2008
 
Dorothy (Alves) Holmes

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  234.     

A River Runs Through It

Like a stream of water rushing down the street
With people of all nations rushing feet
The city roars with noise as the sun beats down
And traffic appears to snore as it snakes through town.
Spires and towers, cranes and blocks
All conspire to fill the sky
And people walk by the artist
And blindly pass musicians whisper
Intent on getting to who knows where
Or finding the way to a bar for beer
And a gelato ice from Italian Fare.
And a river of people flow through the parks,
The streets are heaving in every part and
The river of life flows as a tide in flood.
And blood flows through human streets
As the river streams through the city like an urban vein
While people continue to ignore the busker
And the human statues and stare at the face of the
Mobile in their hand and try to understand just
What the river is and then recognise that they are lost
Amid the city streets and the river flowed on.
Now lost in canyons of concrete and clay
And faces look back through glass that fades
With the brightness of the day reflecting back
And blinding the eye as the mind seeks redress
As they ford the river of life to the banks of stores
Who open their doors to swallow consumerist fare,
And a river runs through it that washes the city
While the living take pity on the losers waving their begging cans.
Humanity streams vociferously through city lanes
And veins that spread from home to office and back again
With longing to be away where the river runs free
Looking to the sea and the open sky and running with the flow
Of rivers rush through city streets and country fields
While all around the sound of life gets quieter
As the river mercilessly careens through the heartless infrastructure
That steals the dreams of all mankind, yet eyes
No longer see the strain, as the river leads to healing paths
And the trees give leaves for the healing.
And the river continues to flow, as people in the know
Follow the fluid tidal path to the source of life
And vivacity, where water streams past life giving seams
Of geology and earth and mankind soaks bodies
In the depths of the life that flows with the river
That runs through the city and settles the dream
With heart that beats in time with the flood and the
Rushing feet stop and look and see the light that shines
As the overflow of life returns its mind to the vein
That is no longer clogged with the detritus of living
But flowing with fresh life and giving salubrious health
To the city streets, as the river flows on, as the river flows on
And the concrete and clay are no more.
 
Steve Gregory

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  235.     

Down the River

Hark, the sound of it drawing nearer,
Clink of hobble and brazen bell;
Mark the passage of stalwart shearer,
Bidding Monaro soil farewell.

Where is he making for? Down the river,
Down the river with eager tread;
Where is he making for? Down the river,
Down the river to seek a 'shed'.

Where is his dwelling on old Monaro?
Buckley's Crossing, or Jindaboine?
Dry Plain is it, or sweet Bolaira?
P'raps 'tis near where the rivers join
Where is he making for? Down the river.
When, oh when, will he turn him back?
Soft sighs follow him down the river,
Moist eyes gaze at his fading track.

See, behind him his pack-horse, ambling,
Bears the weight of his master's kit,
Oft and oft from the pathway rambling,
Crops unhampered by cruel bit.
Where is he making for? Equine rover,
Sturdy nag from the Eucumbene,
Tempted down by the thought of clover,
Springing luscious in Riverine.

Dreams of life and its future chances,
Snatch of song to beguile the way;
Through green crannies the sunlight glances,
Silver-gilding the bright 'Jack Shay'.
"So long, mate, I can stay no longer,
So long, mate, I've no time to stop,
Pens are waiting me at Mahonga,
Bluegong, Grubben and Pullitop.

"What! you say that the river's risen?
What! that the melted snow has come?
What! that it locks and bars our prison?
Many's the mountain stream I've swum.
I must onward and cross the river,
So long, mate, for I cannot stay;
I must onward and cross the river,
Over the river there lies my way."

One man short when the roll they're calling;
One man short at old Bobby Rand's;
Heads are drooping and tears are falling
Up on Monaro's mountain lands.

Where is he making for? Down the river,
Down the river of slimy bed;
Where is he making for? Down the river,
Down the river that bears him, dead.
 
Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake

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Read more: river poems, farewell poems, horse poems, future poems, silver poems, snow poems, song poems, green poems, dream poems, spring poems, swimming poems, rose poems
   
 

   
   
 

  236.     

Peace River

The Peace River creeps along
From its start in the sand it calls home
That sometimes takes up more below
Than it adds to the flow.

The groove cut deep in ages past
Into the lime-rock's cast
Remains a testament to the way
That Nature refreshes, then takes away.

Sometimes a wild river that knows no bounds
Later just a few scattered ponds
Harboring life which one day
Will again spread when the River has its say.

Once a road for paddlewheel boats
That carried goods up-river to folks
When loaded with coal and necessities
From mines and far away cities.

Then down river the boats did ply
Phosphate ore that man might buy
As an ingredient to benefit all,
Something to makes crops grow tall.

But now the Peace River's flow
Has been claimed by those below
Who've built along Gulf's shore,
And thirst for water, even more.

There are solutions, few
When Winter's drought begins anew
When fish and man alike must find
A place of another kind.

Yet the river lies quiet and waits
For the Summer rains that will create
Again the flood as in times past
When the water moves deep and fast.


The Peace River originates in an area known as the 'Green Swamp, ' a vast mostly unpopulated area of central Florida lying between Tampa and Orlando. The sandy soil (if soil it can be considered to be) accepts summer rainfall while giving up the excess to runoff, and uses the remainder to recharge the shallow limestone/sand aquifer. In the dry season of the year, the aquifer gives up a portion of its burden through springs and seeps to rivers flowing East (Orlando) , West (Tampa) , North (Jacksonville) and South (Charlotte bay) . Southwest Water Management District (Called Swift Mud) will try to 'harness' the Peace river and control its flow. But there's much about the river that they seem not to know (or want to learn) .
 
Sidi J. Mahtrow

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Poems On / About RIVER