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Poems On / About RIVER  9/18/2014 12:42:13 PM
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  233.     

Negro Speaks of Rivers

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
 
Langston Hughes

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Read more: sunset poems, sleep poems, world poems, river poems
   
 

   
   
 

  234.     

The Story Of A River!

That empty river was filled with water,
Running water never stagnant to collect litter,
Clean and clear to see the treasures stored,
Heavy pebbles, the quick fish on the soften rocks,
Green kingdom of algae and their blooms peep,
Dipped into the river to pick up a handful,
Of tiny river sand, suddenly floated along the river,
That drifted and took me to a furlong,
How to swim opposite when the current was so strong,
Shocked, confused and kept the head above the liquid,
I saw myself moving faster with the Mother Nature,
The green wild yam with spacious big leaves,
Where my grannies told that the reptiles hide,
The recently planted teak trees stood still,
The palms were high and full of fruits,
Even one not dropped into the water, when I passed,
Bananas were useless with soft stem,
There was a slanting coconut tree at the brim
Leaned to the river for water and sun,
I held its root as hard as I could,
Reached the bank with joy in a blink,
That river full of water is empty now,
And our farmers not even go out,
To check their handed down plowing tools,
The dried up Tamil Nadu with people with tears,
A nuclear plant is built on its shore.
 
veeraiyah subbulakshmi

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  235.     

Standing on the Wooden Bridge

Standing on the Wooden Bridge

I stand on the wooden bridge,
Just in front of my house,
Facing west, watching sunset, painting the sky red,
Pale moon hung on the eastern sky,
Listening to the frogs, brown birds flying
Across the lalang field,
Finding corns and grains.

The river flows gracefully underneath the bridge,
Carrying its brownish current,
With its swirling dimples on its surface,
Sending coconut husks, future seeds and dried leaves to the sea,
Bandung grass grows along the river bank,
Swaying right and left, a playground for frogs and mudskipper
And sometime bend down as if they want to drink the river water.

Sometimes there are a few biawak swimming in the river,
Peeping from the water surface,
They will run away if you throw stones into the river,
My brother likes to do that,
I feel cold breeze from the Batang Sadong river,
Coiling around me, as if they want to play with me,
A beautiful scenery that I will keep forever in my heart.
 
Ismim Putera

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  236.     

The Daughter of River

The river of very big eyes of grown up girl
Always awakes in the lap of the lulling aunt
Though the moral duty of the lulling aunt is to lull!
In foggy night the raft of illusory realism floats on its chest
At dead night it sees hide-and-seek among nebula and stars.
No river knows about its biography but this River knew
And knew too someone calls from the opposite shore of the ocean.
She was absorbed in a state of drowsiness of black owl
The decko was called three times by her name!
She had kissed her sleeping daughter before left the house
And like a sleep-walker she went to the river.
She was caught by the trap of river and never come back
From then the daughter of Paranoid River weeps loudly.
 
Zillur Rahman Shuvro

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Poems On / About RIVER