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Poems On / About RIVER  10/30/2014 8:39:45 AM
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  361.     

RIPPLING CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

Rippling Childhood Memories
Melvin Banggollay


Sitting in solitude in the bank of a river
I behold waves to keep coming back
Gently kissing the shore long and forever
With their murmuring songs like flashback
While cool breeze rippled the serene water
With sweet memories just like a while back
When I used to play in this pristine river
Along with childhood friends on the block.

When I gaze the surface of the serene river
I saw smiles of swimming kids like ducks
Merrily playing as they build castle’s tower
along the river’s shore but waves took them back
with splashing moves from the naughty players
playing and throwing mud from the river bank
but at a distance I behold two young lovers
Building a castle of their own fortune and luck.


Who’s that, well that was me and girl of my life.
 
MELVIN BANGGOLLAY

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  362.     

Not The River In Between

The Mighty Mississippi runs between you and me,
There is some unwritten law, the other side I never see,
Like a damsel locked away in a lonely tower,
On my side the river, I counted the hours,

At least that's how it has been for years,
Raised the river crying all those tears,
Like the river love has two sides,
There were things you wanted to hide,

Just left to wonder, I could barely ask,
You letting me know became such a task,
Any plans I braved inquiring of you,
Sent you running off with a job to do,

Parishes of Assumption and Ascension,
Keeping us apart, not the river's intention,
It has always been you who kept us apart,
Always you breaking my heart,

You once spoke of white Tahoes and a place on the river,
As of most things you spoke, you did not deliver,
Now the flame that burned for you is no longer lit,
So don't cross that Sunshine Bridge when you come to it,
 
Vallerie Lobell

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  363.     

Where The Rivers Meet

The lark upwards fly from the rushes to sing in the gray morning sky
And gray crow disliked by sheep farmers caws on a lone poplar nearby
And spring has brought all of her green beauty to Claraghatlea west of Millstreet
To the old rushy fields by the railway the quiet place where the rivers meet.

Where the Cails flows into the Finnow and into a bigger river grow
And journey through Dooneen and Drishane and into the Blackwater flow
Amongst the water reeds the moorhen on her nest is sitting quite safe in her shady retreat
And in the rank grass the pheasant is crowing in field by where the rivers meet.

In leafy groves and on the green hedgerows that border fields by Millstreet Town
The songbirds are whistling and singing at twilight as the sun goes down
And vixen for her cubs out hunting 'a young rabbit would be nice to eat'
And darkness it slowly envelopes the fields by where the rivers meet.

The spring she has come to Duhallow and everywhere looking so green
And snowdrops and primroses blooming on the verges along the bohreen
And cow to her new born calf lowing he totters on unsteady feet
Amongst the rank grass and the rushes in field by where the rivers meet.
 
Francis Duggan

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  364.     

Listen to the Flowing River

The fisherman used to cast his line into the running water
And take what the flowing river allowed him to receive
Now he’s watching as the pollutants slaughter
No longer can he wade out from the shore, a time to grieve.
He looks down on the river sadly mourning
Detests the modern world that lives within
The river’s surface shadows a simple warning
A positive transformation must begin.
We must close our eyes and listen to the flowing river
We must open up our hearts and take one more chance
To take a stand, don’t yield, don’t quiver
Make a choice not to live in this world as victims of circumstance.
No longer watch as acid rain continues to pour down – to sorrow
Should not let our expectations fill with fear
Everyone look out to new horizons on the morrow
The lamp of knowledge is coming here.
Let the rejoicing ring out in the heartland
And thank the Lord and pour blessings on his name, amen
May the future be true for our sons and daughters – delivered with a helping hand
Listen to the flowing river as the fish swim upstream once again.

'2007'
 
Robert Sheridan

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Poems On / About RIVER