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Poems On / About RIVER  7/30/2014 4:03:53 AM
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Best Poems About / On RIVER
 
 
 
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  237.     

Life

Life is like a river.
The river of life is long and deep.

Sometimes the river becomes rough,
and the swift current overwhelms.

Rocks protruding from the waters
become obstacles threatening our path.

These parts of the river, like life,
for all intent, seem to be impassable.

Water thrashing around us
On the edge of succumbing to the cold water.

At these times we feel, ironically,
as if we may drown in the river of life.

When we feel we can no longer swim,
and it feels as if all hope is lost.

The current slows, the water warms,
and our journey on the river ends.
 
Spidey Ortiz

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  238.     

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.
 
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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  239.     

The River

The river’s a wanderer, a nomad, a tramp.
He doesn't choose any one place to set up his camp.

The river’s a winder, through valley and hill.
He twists and he turns, he just cannot be still.

The river’s a hoarder and he buries down deep.
Those little treasures that he wants to keep.

The river’s a baby, he gurgles and hums
And sounds like he’s happily sucking his thumbs.

The river’s a singer, as he dances along
The countryside echoes the notes of his song.

The river’s a monster, hungry and vexed
He’s gobbled up trees and he’ll swallow you next.
 
Luke Rylands

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  240.     

by the river

By The River.
At the estuary of the Amazons the water is muddy and shallow and
there are no undercover bosses, pretending to be one of the people
who live in houses on stilts on the small islands where the river
meets the sea, blends and loses its power; for those who have sailed
the oceans no river is big. On the delta, of the great river, live people
who get their income from fishing they are poor yet free from prying
bosses those who buy the river and the sea for exploitation and make
people into low paid worker; destitution without pride.

Every group of houses on the islands have a shop that sells sweets,
cigarettes and Coca Cola, the fisherman smokes, children drink cola,
America΄s cultural export reaches every corner of our cerulean orb,
Camel is a brand not an animal, Winston is a night riding cowboy.
This means nothing for the people here, who try to catch the Boto,
(pink river dolphin) which is rich in protein and tastes good.
 
oskar hansen

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Poems On / About RIVER