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Poems On / About RIVER  11/24/2015 6:11:35 PM
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Best Poems About / On RIVER
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The River That Slowly Rills

The Big Fish finds his lunch, and kills
In the river that slowly rills

The victim, caught up in the flood
First of water, now of blood
Death comes to him in blowing chills
While the river slowly rills

We see the blue is mixed with red
The prey surely now is dead
The carnivore has shown his skills
While the river slowly rills

The day has only just begun
Once of two fish, now of one
A strange home for slaught'ring gills
The river that slowly, slowly rills
Bobby Crawford

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I Looked In A River

I looked in a river from a bridge I was on
The river and bridge both small yet so strong
The water so clear you could see river bed
Yet what I saw cast around made me feel sad

A concrete pylon about two meters long
An old sack and Iron Gate and a cycle half gone
Then a blue plastic bag and a tyre yet no wheel
A place in seems for discarded items people steal

It’s a shame a disgrace as this debris is strewn
As around it all river plants and reeds fight for room
Yet again it’s a puzzle as the waters so clear
That’s despite this mess on the riverbed here

Copyright © 2008 Ray Feasey
Ray Feasey

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Back There By The Old Finnow River

Back there by the old Finnow river the pink breasted male chaffinch sing
And the white breasted dipper sings in the rapids and the first wildflowers of the Spring
Are blooming by the hedgerows and in the sheltered places and new leaves sprout on the deciduous trees
And the old fields becoming much greener and the Wintery chill has left the breeze
On the high fields around Clara mountain the lambs around their mothers play
And the yellow buttercups are blooming by the old rill that babbles it's way
Downhill on it's way to the river the full bloom of Spring it is near
And the small brown wren sings in the hedgerow his voice so melodious and clear,
Back there by the old Finnow river as the lamp of dawn brightens the sky
The brown lark rises up from the rushes and he carols as up he does fly
For to greet the grey dawn of the morning the airborne songster born on the ground
His wife on her grass nest cloaked by the rushes her nest that is hard to be found
Back there where the old Finnow river winds it's way on down towards Dooneen
The wildborn birds they are singing and everywhere is looking so green.
Francis Duggan

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The Waterway Known As The The Merri

On the Warrnambool-Koroit countryside a flat landscape as old as time
The waterway known as the Merri that inspired song, story and rhyme
Babbles on it's way to the Pacific every night, day and evening and morn
It has been flowing for thousands of centuries before the first human was born
Long before 'twas given the name of the Merri the old river babbled along
And long before the age of the dinosaur and the first songbird sung it's first song
The old river flowed to saltwater to mix with the incoming tide
The old river that will flow forever through the flat and ancient countryside
To the ancient land of the Merri the Seasons they come and they go
And the waterway babbles forever through the land of the dark pale eyed crow
The first people who hunted and fished here are to be seen here never more
But the old Merri flows on forever on it's way to the Pacific shore
Many people like Mother Nature's Seasons to life they have come and have gone
But the Merri the very old river is destined to keep babbling on.
Francis Duggan

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Poems On / About RIVER