Bridge Over Poems - Poems about Bridge Over

They said, “You’ll never change the stream, Your plans are just a restless dream.” But stones don’t fear the water’s voice - they stand, they hold, they make the choice to shape the flow, not drift away. Around me, currents laughed and spun, the gifted boats sailed in the sun. Yet in the deep, I learned to stay, to read the tides, to...

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Across the chasm, wide and vast A silent bridge connects the past. Its stones are words, its mortar thought A path to truths we’ve often sought. To cross it takes no strength or speed But faith in what the soul does need. A bridge unseen, yet always there A link between despair and care. ...

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Crossing the London Bridge by trike, I observed a head upon a pike. So, I politely doffed my cap and returned home to take my nap....

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The October moon winked in the cover of midnight darkness and I saw love in her eyes —love she’s been doing her best to hide all this while — not minding the stroke of midnight when hearts pound loudest among those who keep vigil for love....

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Through fog, on the London Bridge, I saw an image so forlorn - upon a pike, a traitor's head. The span it would adorn. While I understand the appeal of a well-weathered head, wouldn't Christmas lights have been a better choice instead?...

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Over by the bridge watch them link Swans congregating before flight Curtains of dusk drape at the brink Over by the bridge The ebon sky soon out of sight as the red sun begins to sink the chill of autumn fills the night Gliding force, unabashed blinks huddled they aim for evening light as they swim...

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Bridge Street Bridge Scores Sounds Lift, Voices .... Rise! Bridge Street Bridge ...

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after “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, by Robert Frost This bridge meant something in some war, some yarn of man and God and law: but I think more of her and me: what were those others fighting for? There’s so much here to feel and see, and yet it’s rubbernecker-free! I love to watch the fishes jump: they sense the serendipity! Lads...

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Any pet owner knows… Our furry friends are as much a part of the family as anyone. ...

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I’ve never been kissed on the dance floor. With him, I feel light-hearted, but apart, I’m utterly devastated. I’m a dreamer, he’s laid-back, and without a genuine connection, our love feels like scenes from a disconnected game— where hate destroys, yet love seeks to heal. But with each...

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Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory, Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea. Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit; Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence. Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together! Like allurng, violet future,...

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Sydney my love, Sydney my city Splendour and majesty, nothing such pretty. Sydney my love, Sydney my city. First rays of the sun, spread here fun. Opera, Harbour Bridge, Blue Mountain. Pretty pretty places, plenty plenty beauty. Sydney my love, Sydney my city Clean clean beaches, green green trees, Pleasant weather, cool cool breeze. Kissing the shores, sea waives sporty. Sydney...

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For Brian Strand's Your Choice U Poetry Contest 5 June 2025 swing ...

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wooden b e stood still ...

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Don't know why I couldn't fly When I had the wings and all, Don't know why I didn't try Was I much too afraid to fall Teetering on the bridge that day Arms outstretched, toes to the edge, Then again, who would jump anyway From such a treacherous ledge Looking down from an incredible height My last breath caught in...

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