Green river seeps by -
all algae-ridden and choked -
it more staggers by.
Somebody said that in Wyoming
That a body could recover from
The N.Y. blues that leave your soul so dry
I bid farewell to Montauk
And the sadness in her eyes
Knowing somehow that I never
Would return.
Now the skies over Green River
Somehow are not that different
And the losing end remains the
losing end.
Some days I'd trade my highway shoes
For a key to the door back home
But the past is smoke
And the locks beneath the clay
I often think of Montauk
Though the photo is all lined now
Knowing somewhere, some days
Montauk thinks of me
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. Rachel Carson
Earth shows off it's evergreen trees,
a home to the yellow bumble bees.
In the winter there can be a deep freeze,
with a cold breeze.
The birds are sitting as close as fleas,
saying warm up please.
Warmer weather is on it's way,
it will be here any day.
Little ones want to go out and play,
watch out for the big blue Jay.
Today we have clouds of gray,
blue skies will be here for May.
Earth the beauty you show,
you wear a magical glow.
From the evergreen trees that grow,
to the rivers that flow.
You are priceless cargo,
even to the old black crow.
And I watched the green river,
the ageless river
that does not have to justify its existence
but just flows,
and I called:
Green river,
speak to me.
Green river,
teach me
to turn obstacles
into song.
Green river,
sing to me, let
your many voices
take root
in my heart.
mississippi
beneath live oaks on east bank
thousands of frogs
sing their songs in unison
my heart keeps time
She slips from the sleeping ice.
Green, fresh, free to flow
through the great fjord.
Past the blue mountains.
She glides smoothly
over the rocks with glee,
covering them with her cool touch.
Tall evergreens cheer her on.
Waving as she courses down her chosen path,
carrying life.
All the while never tiring!
Surging forward to join the others like her.
This vast journey ,
will not end till she reaches
The Great Shores.
Her journey is joyful.
Touching all on her banks,
leaving the gift of life in her wake.
To remember rightly
Many years gone before I visited the country where I spent my childhood.
Flat landscape with green grass and many horses, some of them huge
and belonged to an occupying army. A river cut the landscape in half and
wooden bridges. It is tricky to remember infancy because it often appears
like a dream; and the grass were always green like winter didn´t exist.
Soldiers I remember were always kind, yet looked like misplaced elements
pining to go home were they belonged. A dusty road crooked around
the country side in disregard of what was the easiest way, and had many
gates it was my job to jump off the cart and open them up for the farmer.
The landscape I revisited was not as I remembered it there were no horses
to make the landscape attractive; the river was gone, those I spoke to could
not recall it ever having been one. Asphalted roads and a village had sprung
up it even had petrol pump that sold cigarettes, soft drinks and sweets.
And I cannot know whether my youth was a wish or if I was born a dreamy
adult . The gate to my past is forever closed a mystery unsolved.
The river lazily ran through the lovely pasture scene.
Poets wrote their pretty poems about the river’s charms,
Carrying its living water, reflecting purest green
As lovers sat upon its banks, locked in each other's arms.
Way back in nineteen Eighty Two, idly pleasure boating,
He chanced on unexpected sight of homicidal death.
This man discovered horror beneath the surface floating,
So shocking to his senses that he almost lost his breath.
He’d discovered the first body of victims known to date
Of dread Green River killer, Gary Ridgeway is his name.
Sixteen years to catch him, the murders stand at forty-eight.
With waters tinged with red, the pretty river’s not the same.
Won no. 4 in contest
Silent is the stand, gentle is the gaze
The view of the meadow is grand, in oh so very many ways
The person looks on, all is as it was
Gentle and green grass, dancing every day
Resplendent river of rich mass, safariing without a stay
Soothing sun’s soft seal, seeding spirit so
Hearty and halcyon hills heal, fostering faith and fancy’s flow
Fervent flowers flirt, fetching fair fondness
Many sunrises, many moonrises
Silent is the stand, gelid is the glare
The view of the meadow is bland, with oh so very little there
The person looks on, forever blinded
Grating green grass grasps, conforming cluster
Rudimental river raves rasps, lolling and lacking all luster
Stinging sun’s sharp seal, scorching spirits so
Haughty and harsh hills are all heel, fostering fear and feral’s flow
Feigned flowers flaunt fast, fetching feeble fools
Forever meadow, forever human
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.