Best Poems About / On RIVER
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233.
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Bloody Mary
how much blood
has the rivers drunk?
intoxicated by hate
impoverished by war
how much blood
has the rivers drunk?
over, and over
as the waves of innocent lives
crushed the shores
while their leaders plotted
how much the rivers would drink
teaching millions how to think
marching, singing patriots of equal stupidity
heros by day
idiots by night
fighting some war
they thought was right
how much blood
has the rivers drunk
out of broken glasses, or silver chalices
mixed with tonic water, or ginger ale
oh what stories the soldiers do tell
veterans reap the benefits
of wars commercialized
of generations analyzed
how much blood
has the rivers drunk?
how many can walk a straight line?
how many escape the centuries of time?
how much blood
has the rivers drunk?
how many will still drink?
Keith Ricardo Williams
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234.
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Ode To The Peshtigo
It starts as just a trickle, a spring which comes up from the ground, fed by many tributaries, to become one of the biggest rivers around.
Always there, constant flow.
Before it had its name, Native Americans used it as a highway, for even today people still travel it the same way.
This river has seen many a traveler, explorers, settlers, trappers, loggers, fishermen, hunters and boaters.
Spring, summer, fall and in winter, even though covered with a blanket of ice and snow, the river steadfast in its flow.
Stretches of water, blissful and serene.
Its rapids, waterfalls, noisy when one is near, yet tranquil to the ear.
This river is home to many animals, fish and birds.
For whoever visits this river, many places seem yet undisturbed, but one thing is certain, the river will always be there, constant flow, the mighty Peshtigo.
Alvin Schaut
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235.
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Nudging Her To Proceed
Rivers glow for two weeks overboard the stems
Of saplings:
Rivers down from her neck are gracing us with their
Effluvious ribbon:
Rivers down to cars and walkways under the terraces
Of the heartbeats of lovers:
Each segment of river a stupendous cord of music
With indiscernible tutors sitting along side her, panting out;
And the wonderful animals there,
Each with his own food and paws: and maybe a girl
Lost from a story book, or torn from another state of
Being, her feet naked and breathless beside the bend of the river:
Maybe she will go down into an apartment some day,
But now her eyes only look deeply into our river, as if
Hypnotized while every kind of animal you can imagine is
Nudging her to proceed.
Bret R. Crabrooke
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236.
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Memories of a River
Each river has a bunch of stories to tell
The story of dreams failed
Of lost love
Of the burning truth and the hot smell
Of life real
The river even knew the pain
Of thoughts going parallel
With their hands never yielding to a touch
The injured lives
The deceit killed a heart
And the river knew it before
Lust reigned in one
And the river could see it in the eyes
And waited for the injured soul
Each day the river waited for the silent cries from afar
The sighs of the world thronged on its shore
And the delight of the paper boats,
Will it survive the sighs?
Again the monsoon came late
But the river was wet with memories
Meenu Alex
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