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Water Couplet Poems | Couplet Poems About Water

These Water Couplet poems are examples of Couplet poems about Water. These are the best examples of Water Couplet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Aquarius

I go where mountain streams converge
And stand with pitcher on the verge
Of a transparent tranquil pool
Where waters merge lucent and cool
There is the grass sparkling with dew
I dip the jar in aqua blue
It overflows its precious gift
As with both hands I gently lift
To raise the contents to my lips
So that I take the first few sips
And then I drink the rest in haste
There is ambrosia in the taste
That brings to mind my faithful muse
The sky is filled with scarlet hues
I am entranced and stay until
The sun goes up; once more I fill
The jar with water to the brim
On wings of time I fly and skim
Till I arrive at heaven’s gates
Then walk to where my master waits
The zodiac path is where he lives
He lays the rules and ever gives
To freedom lovers ample space 
To go about at their own pace
And cure the fragile human race
To make the world a better place.
A water bearer I shall be
With care to serve eternally.


-------------------------------------------
Author: Paul Callus ~ 13th July 2014 
Contest: Zodiac Sign
Sponsor: Leonora Galinta
Placing: 1st


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Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit

Earth is what we become and makes us whole.
 Air is the first and last thing we breathe in.
 
Fire is what consumes us and eats our sin.
 Water cleanses us, mind, body and soul.

Spirit is in us all and makes us who we are.
  Without these we would fall oh so far.

Invite them into our sacred circle and pay tribute.
 As we are condemned, we are resolute. 

We love fiercely and fight for our freedom.
 Ignorance breeds fear and unwisdom. 

Thank them for gracing us with their presence.
 While we give our thanks and recompense.

Exhilarated and feeling like a newborn child, 
 Wow this circle's "magic" is wild.


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The Water Muse

Against the sea or ocean tide,
with poetry and pen allied,
I found the water muse inspires
every word the hand requires.

How winsome is her rustic art
that from recesses of the heart,
bring well-established syllables
and the flow of countless ripples?

By gaping river's open mouth,
she'll end the wordlessness of drought
and as the poets' voice is heard,
she'll sail on his dramatic word

then drift into those wordless streams
on metered verse and rhyming schemes
until each one who ever wrote
has cast their work of art afloat!


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Detox

No more water hosing or truncheons beaten on bare feet,
no nightsticks cracking skulls on Bowery streets.

No cold water straitjackets or rubber padded rooms,
no laudanum doses sweeping minds like a broom.

Now its pretentious centers deluxe
brazenly charging big bucks

for twenty-eight days of schmoozing
to turn off the boozing,

and swallowing mega-vitamin pills
to ward off the chills,

or sit in circles with stories to tell
from like-minded survivors of hell.

More humane we're trying to be
even offering treatment for free

but it is still a choice at any cost.
To choose a sober life or, to an early death be lost.


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Suicide

From a beam he dangled as the rope choked out his breath
So very soon to end his life as he does the dance of death.
     The grandma sees her grandson and has to take him down
     She lays him on the carpet that is colored brown.

High up on a structure eyes are starring down
Will blackout over come him before he hits the ground;
  The morbid and the curious have finally gone away
  There’s only those who clean the mess, it's just another day.

Dinner on the table with plate and fork and knife
The only thing that's swallowed is a pill to end her life.
  Who said that it is painless have they looked around the room
  The pain does carry on and on far beyond the doom.

With a knife the cut was made now blood spills on the floor
Soon the shadows of the dark will come in through the door.
    Who said there are no victims; reactions carry on;
    This tragedy repeats it’s self; through days that take too long 
    .
With rocks put in her pockets in water not so high
She sucks the water to her lungs that's how she chose to die.
    The husband of Virginia Wolf, now he knows too well
    His days are filled with misery and his life's a living hell.

Desperate to escape he points the pistol to his head
The triggers pulled, a roar goes off; and just like that he's dead.
      When she opened up the door she saw the pieces of his brain
      The blood in puddles on the floor; was like water from the drain.

Blood is on her shirt; where she held him for too long
But it's simply far too late the life in him is gone.
    Who says that it is painless have they looked around the room
     I know the pain does carry on and on far beyond the doom.

    .


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Monet's Water Lilies


A canvas washed with pastel hues
In palest pinks and liquid blues
Perfection seen through Monet’s eyes
Recounting where his genius lies

The lilies floating on the lake
The water, greenish blue opaque
A fluid mix of subtle tints
A flowing dream with fragile glints

This work of art from sable brush
Perception, depth, a hazy blush
This masterpiece both cool and warm
All bound up in poetic form

To gaze in awe, to stand and stare
To find oneself transported there
The tranquil view, unbroken, whole
Will heal the heart, rebuild the soul

The peace, the calm, the beauty rare
The artist’s gift for all to share




Margaret Foster- 21st September 2011

 


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Ohhhh Rain : Shower again

A small romantic rain poem dedicated to hubby.
wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

"Ohhhh Rain..Shower again!!!!! "  

Showering in the rain, 
Draining the pain!
Enflueraging the essence of arenicolous sand,
Feeling blessed porting on this beautiful greenary land! Trees were roaming 
under fiercing winds,
Thanks nature for benevolently so kind!
Sip of sizzling coffee With Caramalized sugar,
Cheers hubby to accompany me my gelling agar!
Wanna capture this Driplets of aromatic water nearby lake,
So that I can make an icy snowflake!
That's amazing, "but ohhhh God,  I wish my honey is here".




Wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare  


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Beachside Food and Drink Slinks

A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth 
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep

C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen

E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green 
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed

G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king

I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat

K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls

M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive

O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg

Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good

S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends

U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand 
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land

W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell

Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand

All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.


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THE LAST DROP OF WATER

THE LAST DROP OF WATER

Clouds of despair will block out our sun
Trials and burdens each weighing a ton

God brings those clouds into your life
Not without conflict, discord or strife

Are they punishment or sent to refresh
Love incarnate through a Saviours flesh

Do not flee from raindrops that may fall
Let them linger enough for mercy’s recall

Grace will fall –heavenly drops from above
Till the last drop of water-a chastising love


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Spring Rain

~~Spring Rain~~ A drought has been declared, no hose pipes can we use There has been such light rain for two years, but I think it is a ruse. The day the drought was declared the heavens opened up They have not stopped precipitating; one certainly dare not look up. The water flows as free as lager at a barbecue Constantly pouring, persisting it down, and the same problems ensue. We are drenched in all sorts as drains do rise, and rivers flood their banks But the drought warnings still apply there are supposed empty water tanks. The spring rain is falling not like tears on babies’ cheeks But pouring and pouring constantly, and has been now for weeks. Still the drought does linger but I think I know the ruse They will put the bloody price up, and watch us blow a fuse.


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Constance

Having escaped from her attic on a bright summer day,
Constance skipped through the forest in fantasy play.

Flowers abloom; vibrant colors mix with green;
Constance found amazing beauty in everything.

A shy, maturing girl with only imaginary friends;
Flourishing happily in a world full of pretend.

In a pool of fresh water from a spring underground,
Constance knelt to take a sip and a beauty she found.

Where once was a little girl, a young woman she saw,
Whose beauty, adorned with flowers, left her in awe.

The reflection of her face in the rippling pool,
Smiled back with satisfaction in the water so cool.

Although unsure of herself in many different ways,
She saw confidence growing in the face that she gazed.

The water refreshed her when she finally took a drink,
But the reflection was more fulfilling for Constance, I think.


by, Joe Flach.  For Constance's "Reflection" contest.


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"Water Lily"

I am a water Lily,
my petals are quite frilly.

I thrive on abundant waters,
the flowing streams, my AORTAS.

Great beauty in flowing scene,
planted in life’s flowing stream.

My nectar is quite neat,
my honey dew is sweet.

It is in April and May,
broad leaves on water I lay.

When I prepare to pray,
in nature’s usual way.

Being love’s Lily of life, 
manifesto of love not strife.

Having variety of colors,
love imitates no others.

Please enjoy my view,
my beauty I give to you.

I sway in the gentle breeze,
with awesome beauty, I please.

From a world of useless strife,
come and quiet your very life.

Come and sit by my side,
on my river so very wide.

And let your conscience awake,
love’s nature made no mistake.

Love only made me for you,
as truth, I am as skies so blue.

Nature’s awesome retreat,
numerous days to repeat.

Petals of beauty  quite neat,
a  natural of love’s feat. 

Contest; The Flower
In Honor of; Rambling Poet 

Place #7


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Not Your Fight

Dragging, lagging down this road,
Many things I was never told,
Stumble, tumble to the ground,
Looked up and saw no one was around,
Scraped and bruised... on both knees,
Begging for this disease to seize,
One more breath before I break,
When suddenly I realize You died for my sake,

When I can’t seem to find the words to say,
To cancel out these feelings of dismay,
When all I’ve seen was equivalent to shame,
And tornados wipe right through the pain,
When water washes the frailty and dishonor,
And most thought I was just a goner,
Your whispers penetrate my night,
 Speaking out “this is not your fight”
“ I died to fill your life with might”

Holes in souls are hard to bare,
Especially when your scars are there,
Hearts that plead to overflow,
Sometimes bleed and cannot let go,
But through the madness and through the times,
There is only one name that comes to my mind,
Nails that sacrificed for our greater good,
Can relate to my deaths even if He was misunderstood,

When I can’t seem to find the words to say,
To cancel out these feelings of dismay,
When all I’ve seen was equivalent to shame,
And tornados wipe right through the pain,
When water washes the frailty and dishonor,
And most thought I was just a goner,
Your whispers penetrate my night,
Speaking out “this is not your fight”
This is not your fight,
This is not your fight.

BY: 
Sabina Nicole


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on the impending demolishment of the Harewood Dams

For decades now we've swam, we've played
and on the grass, in sunshine laid.
A haven for our meditations
visited by our many generations.
Pristine beauty, nature's pride,
and now, bereft, tears we've cried.
To be destroyed, torn asunder.
Governments decree, a total blunder.
Safety issues is their claim,
so our park they now defame.
This decision, we don't understand, 
upcoming destruction of community land.
Other solutions they will not hear.
Their stubbornness abundantly clear.
We now say goodbye to memories
of wandering through paths of trees
beside the lakes of childhood life.
Their idea of progress cuts like a knife.
For decades now we've swam and played
and on the grass, in sunshine laid.
A haven for our meditations
that's been stolen from future generations.


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Earth, Fire, Water and Wind have knowledge

Is joy found in Thee and thine or in me and mine? 
Whose words teach of the path, my life will define


Is happiness found, respecting all things, being kind?
By seeking a common good of man, with thee in mind


Or by achieving goals, success that will benefit me
Is this the key to unlock the grace foretold from thee?


It seems that many men’s words differ in religious belief
Each group’s path shifts, as when wind blows a leaf


Which men’s words should I follow, whose thoughts are true
Or do these men speak with words, mixed in an evil brew


As I think, ponder, on what path I should follow in life
You guide my direction, as the "Great Spirit", my fife


Let earths wind, water, fire, teach animal, plant and man
All lessons they need learn, from the creator of the plan


All mankind needs your grace to discern wisdom from folly
Some men distort your words to sell tickets on their trolley


With "faster is better" and “giving of your life will be holy”
Beware the cost of the ride, proceed a little more slowly


Wisdom discerns truth, as knowledge comes alive
Let your spirit be taught, before man can contrive


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Stream to Signature Pool

The stream meanders down the rocks where I Look upwards and hope that surely the sky Creates the shade for the water to view Along the sides of the bank is more blue Where the center to the stream turns all white And frothy where the stone juts out despite Finally the stream leads to a grand pool Where fish reside, I act not like a fool By the algae gets eaten from below The sides of gorgeous rocks that we don’t know Where the life comes from all real compassion Great sign of a foreign crafted passion Heart of gold, the middle of the forest Is surely this scene of prime non-disgust Where this signature warm place pleads to me Of coming power unlike any plea
Russell Sivey Contest: Let's be Open Sponsor: SuZ - D 6/21/2013


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Rocky Mountain Water

Here in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado,
is the most pristine spring water anyone will know.
Oh how wonderfully bright and clear.
Nobody has springs like the ones found here.

The drops twist and turn through the mountain streams.
They move like the ones in the most elaborate dreams.
Just as liquid crystal they will flow.
The streams help all life to live and grow.

Well, I am a lifelong East Coast man.
Am I able to travel to Colorado?  I never can.
I have a small sample of Rocky Mountain water right here.
I will pour it out of this can of beer.

Written 9/21/2011
Robert Pettit


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peduncle prick

betwixt the circuitous cocoon of rose hips wrestles a world of unfathomable infamy 
induced by light and shadow murmur influences ridicules scent.

conscripted into nature's loggerhead shrike chirp by forces unknown
influenced by the pestilence of greeds monkey see monkey do, ovary retards.

up from the grave of the anchor root rises the sun of expansion
cleansing the cane to shoulder its crown watching bud eye fornicate.

obliging the filament petition to pullulate the wind bats its lash
awakening the anther to feed its feeder roots.

efflorescent anatomy of stamen and pistil captivate beauties awe
apathy will bloom its withered rose until perceived with the nose!


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Wolf Drinking Water by Moonlight

Never a crescent but opalescent
This globe, suspended and always present
And the Wolf cannot be flesh or bone
In this void in time's dim desert zone

The Wolf drinks water by frozen moonlight
Tween slurps She's panting with all of her might
Behind Her is cool, clear space, not a sound
Only the dream, the moon, the pond, the ground

Before Her, Her own urge to lap abounds
Wet shadow animates Her slurping sounds
As She's prowling, the dreams of human minds
Resume here, and secret voices She finds

While the Wolf lingers in psychic powers
None shall wake, but quake, for several hours
Their minds in this clearing, none can hide
Into this stretch they've strayed, some petrified

Sleeping souls, unseen, drift round Her shadow
Longing to escape to some green meadow
Gathered souls meld with Her strange oasis
Their liquid ripples squirm like their faces

In each warm, active mind synapses spark
Captives perceive images as they arc
Meanwhile, the Wolf; in spirit world She drinks
A united sea; thoughts each dreamer thinks

Her lips draw in the collective spirit
Of their curious nature; they fear it
In Her belly flows their merged collages;
Impressions of their entwined barrages

The Wolf's clear as glass, exposing patterns
In colors blazed like Neptune's, like Saturn's
From Her drinking head down to Her wagging tail
She's made of dreamers captured by sleep's spell



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SAVIOUR CHURCH, GRIBOYEDOVA CANAL, ST PETERSBURG

SAVIOUR CHURCH,  GRIBOYEDOVA  CANAL,  ST.  PETERSBURG

In defiance of its Soviet museum-death
Reflected in water moved by God’s breath
The five-domed Saviour church gives
Hope, for its bulbous gold dome yet lives


Silent spheres sing of new life glowing
With gold-edged scales reflecting, showing
In watery   swaying flashes
Like shoals of precious trembling fishes


Each scalloped wavelet free of bondage
A floating rocking hollow image
Each preserving part of dome
Like cell-life survivors, seeking home,

Always dividing, always  merging,
A breath behind them always urging
Each insubstantial golden sliver,
This restless gilt amoeba-river.

Passing boat’s wake - the song of  cupola,
The surface is alive from passing gondola
Shimmering millioned changing shapes
Countless gold-coin waterscapes

Myriad miracles – smithereens of gilt -
Tremulous treasure,  shining  spilt
Water calms from images manifold
To cells quiescent,  edged in gold.

They coalesce.   From many are spun one
Music of the sphere  living in the sun
Of God’s golden dome  -  museum  dead  -
By the life-giving saviour water of canal  fed.

.............................................................

Note.

Ever watched how a reflection of a church or other object  in moving water produces small swirling part-images, each undefined but still clearly part of the  object's image?  It's fascinating. 


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The Natural Machine

A tempest calls calm south seas
to rise and fall and they appease
their shifting partner the warm air
of whose plan they're both aware
Soon winds and water will make an eye
which searchs upward, low and high
all the sky for signs to cease
its ephemeral turning and to release
the many tons of water held
by those clouds that bend and meld
themselves into a twisting pair
which first appears a bad affair
but soon each arm's center is found
which sends them faster round and round
Now spiraling with perfect rhythms
the sign is seen and countless prisms
of captured water are set free
to fall to land, then seep to sea
and all the rivers and creeks that drain
that melting snow and heavy rain
complete the final phase
of something cyclic that does amaze
with both its perfect paired pieces
and its broken and breaking releases
that come from lack of counterweight
Yet this slightly flawed state
will always lead into a new
just as beautiful point of view
that is only seen when in between
two balanced parts of a machine
Like the winds and water that make an eye
which soon unravels to reveal blue sky


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Sudbury Noodles

If people were noodles and lakes were their soup,

Sudbury's basin would be a great scoop.

300 lakes or just a bit more.

Some have been counting and some are just bored.

Sudbury's water is healthy and clean

leaving our noodles shining with gleam.

Fresh water soup minus the salt,

fresh as going into; fresh by default.

Trees for our parsley cover our shores

keeping us fancy and breathing for more.

Soup we serve fresh out of each bowl

welcoming noodles the world whole.


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REASONS TO THROW THINGS OUT OF THE WINDOW

REASONS TO THROW THINGS OUT OF THE WINDOW


Window-launch in summer is best, but whatever the season,
Winter, fall, or spring,   the main reason 
Is because were about two hundred feet up,  I reckon - 
So  the downflight would be several seconds 
And the end would always be spectacular  -
Like for a balloon filled with water.
Floating balloons without water would also be marvelous,
As would  dropped ice-creams and jellos.
Cold water from a bucket would become rain-droppy,
And flower petals to cover the ground, like rose and poppy.
Out goes my parrot -  it’s the highest level he’ll ever get on;
And I’ll give the neighbour’s cat a free flying lesson.
Mustn’t forget whistles, which make music on the way down, 
Or  rubber balls to bounce all over the ground.

But the most spectacular display of all
In the realm of window-launch  free-fall
Is burning sofas, like I once saw while walking (actually, running)
Through  a poorer  neighbourhood in East Lansing.


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Living With Lakes

Oh; how our lakes; do circle our reach.

In circles of puddles beyond our belief.

Halting for shorelines that make up their seams;

'till rising above them through rivers and streams.

Surrounded by ribbits of green bumpy frogs,

all woven through reeds by wet bumpy logs.

While sliders of Junebugs will turn in each arc

with legs shifting water like fins of a carp.

As winds of the water break waves to come in,

in meeting the shore in waves that have been.

So picture our lakes as healthy and fun

where Living With Lakes has just begun.


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DIETARY CHOICE

DIETARY CHOICE



Ultimate choice for slimmers,  right?

Reconstituted dehydrated water  -  or water lite?