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Poems On / About RIVER  7/23/2014 4:52:03 AM
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  333.     

The Good Old Powlett River

The good old Powlett river so very old in time
Has been sketched by famous artists and has inspired the bards to rhyme
From the hills above Kilcunda it flows downland to the sea
Centuries before the first Australians came down to the South Country,
The good old Powlett river will flow down forever more
From the hills above Kilcunda to the great Pacific shore
By the sandhills near saltwater where the surf waves one can hear
The good old Powlett river to my heart is ever dear,
Out of the sunshine by powlett river in the shadows of the trees
Centuries ago the first Australians danced their corroborees
The people like Nature's Seasons to life they come and go
But the good old Powlett river forever it will flow
From the hills above Kilcunda babbling on down to the sea
It will babble on forever century on century.
 
Francis Duggan

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  334.     

The Hopkins River

Centuries before the black people to this Land came
An unknown Country that did not have a name
The river now known as the Hopkins through the scrublands did flow
And that is going back many centuries ago.

The dinosaurs came at the twilight of the day
For to slake their thirst at the quiet water-way
And though the dinosaurs from the World are forever gone
The old Hopkins river keeps babbling on.

Through the flat brown Countryside to Warrnambool to the sea
The Hopkins has flowed for century on century
Through places dry and stony and places remote
The river has inspired the artist and poet.

For to sketch and sing of it in decades gone by
The river that has never stopped flowing through Summer's warm and dry
And though the artist and poet now with the deceased lay
The Hopkins keeps babbling on night after day.

Through places dry and stony and places remote and brown
On down to the ocean near Warrnambool Town
And the Seasons may come and the Seasons may go
But the old Hopkins river forever will flow.
 
Francis Duggan

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  335.     

Life's River

Life is like a river.
It is faster at some parts
slower at other
but always putting
up a fight.
A fight to bring you down.
Some people allow the
river to take them,
giving up. If you give
up then you'll
have a harder time then ever,
but if you fight the
river, never going under the surface of it,
you will see everything at the
end, clearly for what it is.
Or maybe even in the middle of the
river. Either way,
life is like a river.
Always strong, yet gentle.
It will always test you.
 
Nichole Herrin

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  336.     

This Must Be One Polluted Waterway

About the Ganges so much I have read
It's the most polluted river it's been said
But I can't comment on something I've not seen
For to India in South Asia I've not been

Polluted rivers are no longer rare
And we breathe in pollution when we breathe the air
And we drink pollution from river and stream
And clean air and water of the past 'twould seem.

Since I have not seen the Ganges I cannot compare
It to streams and rivers I have seen elsewhere
But going by those who know 'sight unseen' one might say
This must be one polluted Waterway.

Still life goes on and wild creatures mate and breed
And duck and moorhen on the river feed
And cormorant hangs her wet wings out to dry
On Ganges bank neath India's sunny sky.

Through hot and humid Northern India to the sea
The mighty Ganges flows eternally
And many who have been to India say
That it's the most polluted Waterway
 
Francis Duggan

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Poems On / About RIVER