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Poems On / About RIVER  4/30/2016 1:53:56 PM
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Best Poems About / On RIVER
 
 
 
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  345.     

In My Fair Love's Age

Too fair, too unfairly fair art thou That thy eminent beaut' is above compare Much so, the sun is by thy hue a mockery of itself now. In this I commit to shame, for i find no fault through thine entire beauty sphere. Too wisely fair art thou, thine skin is but a dove a-side a pot Thy hair is like the grass that is beautifully seated by the river Come the harshest of heavens wrath it withers not- But grows, come the sufferance; even greener. Lo, How canst one self behold tremendous share of physical power Alas! Rifting the balance of nature in the fold of thine grace? Methinks thou art a majestic work of art that is perfect in God's order. All descent of flowers think of thy infrequent form worthy of praise. Me bethink of life's predicament devoid of thy grace For trees shall be barren devoid the carpet of light on thy face For the sky shall be too dusk for birds to fly devoid of thy gaze O life is at stake in thine absence in many ways. For man shall untie from the consent of lust And commit to God, rather your gust. Though men argue earth has nought to show more fair Than a lass, subtle in spirit and worthy a fere. Men dot admiration for thy lips, thy hips, thy breast and thy bosom As if all together summed will dare a summer ridden leaf to blossom. Were admirations sold a-pence, thine true figured self shalt be richer than the richest willow tree. But good means and fortune lack sight of thy path Of reproach in good measures hang aloft thy bree Shalt I seat here as well by thine river of rue to cast away mine youth?
 
Folayemi Akande

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  346.     

Play Your Pipe!

PLAY YOUR PIPE!
Hey, shepherd! Play your pipe! The sun has woken up. It can comb your hair with its passionate eyes. Do play your pipe to the plants with emerald tongues! Who can count the drops which the soil has drunk? Shepherd! You don't need a white shirt and a tie. This barefooted river is as blue as the sky. It may also steal the sky's silver shine. Hey, shepherd! Play your pipe! The grass may hear and smile. The grass doesn't need a painted mask. Its green sunglasses can look at the sun. Hey, shepherd! Play your pipe! The day hasn't changed for the night. You can find a lost drop in a green-eyed bud. No river needs any boots to run. Play the tune which the curly clouds might have sung! They remind you of the goats making fun.
 
Anahit Arustamyan

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  347.     

Font Color='880000' A River Of My Death

blood rushing within
keeps my cold heart beating
keeps me living

Blood rushing out of me
Keeps the real pain at bay
Takes over all other thoughts
Gives me a focus
Gives me control

Blood upon the floor
Seeping towards the door
A river of past pain
A river of tears I’ve shed
A river of tears I’ve bleed
A river to die by
 
Scarlet .....

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  348.     

The River

Leading to the lasting sea
Is the river of life,
Eternal, never ending.

The river runs from the
Snow-capped peaks; where God Himself
Pours continuously, ceaseless.

Life winds, weaves its way around obstacles
Jutting out, breaking the tranquil yet
Ever-flowing surface of the river.

Midmorning arrives, rays of dazzling
Sunshine accent each wave, each ripple.
A thin, transparent haze lightly
Blankets the river.
 
Tyler Howat

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Poems On / About RIVER