Learn more about other poetry terms
This, a River This, a river, I am not lines but curves Winding around sand bars Creating islands Revealed in low tide My current pulses life Tadpoles, carp, algae I smile in light
The return of the rain heralds ages of growthwhere leaves left forgotten to their last ending goeth. The return of the rain hails the heel of old firesmakes moss meet to grow on tall boreal spires.
Because I love you, you’re always there for me, I’m always there for you as we rock the boat through the rivers and waterfalls of life.
The rivers are my friends When I need a break from men the rivers are there When I need to lay my body down to weep the rivers are there When everybody and their souls have gone on home the rivers are there
"The darkness of a shadow The trickle of a stream The sweet grass in a meadow] As light cuts through the trees The little barn owl swoops low As a mouse rustles the leaves
"Take me to the river Where i feel free Take me to the river So forever I can see Take me to the river Where tides wash thee clean Take me to the river Where alone I can be
When people and life give you grief there is some advice you always receive: “Take it with a grain of salt,” they say. It’s such a cliché. And what they don’t tell you
By the River Piedra I sat down and wept All my fears into the stream Carried down to the stones The bones, the sun shone That day, again I await the day That you return home
Twisted rivers sing broken songs a confused rush instead of peaceful mutterings tearing away shorelines with desperate grabs instead of a passing caress eventually their madness fades