Joan Rivers -
Her face saw many surgical scissors,
yet a routine endoscopy ended her life
and she hadn’t even gone under the knife.
The rivers cough,
Their waters grey and sulky, with exhaustion,
Bitting at the banks that once held,
Children's laughter.
The lethargic trees wear ashes like armour,
Leaves brittle, whispering warnings
That no one ever listens to.
Drifting smoke climbing like a their,
Stealing the Blue from the sky,
Painting the sun in dull bruises,
Where we pretend not to see.
Even the wind carries a taste of metal and sadness;
The birds sing quite than ever,
There wings heavy with weight
Of a world forgetting how to breath.
Yet somewhere beneath the ground
The earth still hums softly,
Waiting for hands that will not choke it;
For mouths that will speake
Before the last river sleeps.
In the green fields of Punjab,
A dark creature stands—
A breathing mountain of dusk,
Yet gentle as a dove.
Through the long silence of day,
On weeds and dry, ordinary grass,
She gathers the unnoticed,
And turns it into a quiet miracle.
Between veins of red and brown,
A pale river begins to move—
Drawn from the dust of herbage,
A secret the earth cannot speak.
Where no light enters,
Something stirs without a sound;
Foliage becomes a silver flow,
Clay ripens into white gold.
Like moonlight poured into a bowl,
Like mercy falling unseen,
It arrives—pure, unannounced—
A gift no eye can fully hold.
What hand shapes this hidden alchemy?
What silence writes this tender law?
The buffalo knows, yet does not speak—
She stands, humble in her giving,
While man forgets the miracle,
And grows loud.
Pricklescoff sits at a Moses Toe
where two rivers meet
where two rivers flow
with one from his left
and one from his right
as he, a troll, sits at the point
where two rivers meet
on into the night
and see all the fish
stickleback, minnow
swim as he sits
at the Moses Toe
Based on the novella Where Two Rivers Meet, A Dark Romance Fantasy by Clive Culverhouse
Smoky Rivers
Beautiful places to visit
A long way from home
Mesmerizing by flowing current
Turn the page , dive into the next chapter
Meditate upon treaded waters
Weather storms brewed is cultivating
Your smiles are breath taking
All take you with me
Wherever we go freely
Smoky rivers breathe transparent
Emotions runneth torrent
Just between the two of us
Romance under the sun set
Bridges lead us somewhere
No one can ever replace you
Calm rivers past the horizons flow
With open arms
The velvet sky carries us
America’s beauty, Ted pondered
as he roamed and he wandered
past lakes, past rivers and streams
The more Ted would see
the more he would think
~ Pity I can’t take a drink
How can I be healed when my rivers are still tender
My heart is stuck in the same sentence
Unheard points screamed at the child inside me
What am I
When the trees stick out and come out of hiding
My thoughts are disconnected from the lifeless rivers bound down on me
This penny for thoughts is meaningless
No worth inside its curves
It meant so much when I paid attention to the quietness
But the wind snatches the good thoughts from hallways of complete darkness
Do I sound crazy
Dreaming of high skies and cloud nines
I cannot see up here
It's too bright and the lines are hard to look at as wrong
How can I be healed when the tree has nothing more to wave in the wind for a look
It is invisible aging and broken edges
How am I ever healed
People are like rivers.
The river water is the same everywhere
But every river is narrow
In some places it's fast current
Some places is wide
Some is slow in water flow
In some places the river water is clear
In some places the river water is turbid
In some places the water is cold
In some places the water is warm
The same goes with people
Human beings are embryos
With various human characteristics
Sometimes people show its humanity
Sometimes people show its inhumanity
He often behaves, unrecognizable
But in fact it's all in him.
That heaven's rivers
flow saying Allah
Went out philomels of Islam
whistles saying Allah
Sways tugba trees
Recites Quran also tongues
Elysum yard's roses
smells saying Allah
Some eats some drinks
Angels deal out peace
Prophet Idris measures dress
Stitchs saying Allah
All posts are from noor
All leaves are from silver
While streching branches
Concludes saying Allah
Brighter than moon, faces
Sweater than suger, voices
Eden's houri maidens
Wanders saying Allah
One who is in love with Allah
Pours teardrops from his eyes
Becomes pure in and outsides
Sings saying Allah
Whatever you wish, wish from God
Walk in this way with a guide
Parrot is in love with tulip
Crows saying Allah
Opened skies' doors
Full of peace all of those
Eight heaven's shores
Uncovered saying Allah
Ridvan is opener of gate
Idris is measurer of cloth
Drinker of Kevser sherbet
Quenchs saying Allah
Dervish Jonah arrive to your pal
Do not leave today to tomorrow
Morning to God's council
Let me reach saying Allah
Written by Dervish Jonah (Yunus Emre)
Translation Onur Ünlü
Calming Rivers
Touch like a feather.
Flowing calming rivers.
Milky skies to ivory.
Heavenly dreams radiant.
Green gardens are so fluent.
Delicate like a rose peddle.
Serene blessings.
The old, rugged cross I want to be.
Through heavy burdens he carries.
We are sculptured to serve.
Stand strong in the dark storm.
Learn by example.
Be a mentor for others.
Calming rivers.
Be an ear to hear.
I only feel real
When I'm downing glasses full of depression
And regret comes around every now and then
banging on the door
real turns its head
When rivers on my skin run too deep
real becomes real
as my happiness only comes in waves
crawling through my brain
only crashing for a night
leaving me with false hope
But I'd take the real back
If I could feel hurt
washing away with the glasses
I only feel real
when everything feels real
When I dare to go deep inside
I get scared at what I might find
It’s not that I loathe myself
But I fear that if I expose myself
Nothing will ever be the same
When I go to that sacred space
Where no soul has ever dared to peer
A place where I long retired the key
I fear that once that door has opened
All will be in vain
When I go past that protected entry
I know that you are curious to see
It’s not that the sunlight will scorch you
I fear that the rivers might drown you
So that you no longer remember my name
TO RIVERS OF BABYLON AND ZION SHORES next (Apropos Of A Nona Tanka)
Be aware of this,
We’ve all survived worse:
All ethnicities;
Present day oppressive times
Will also be overcome:-
We’re not a kingdom,
All here are here equally,
And destined to be:-
These oppressive times today,
We must send them on their way:-
These Babylon days,
Shall likewise be cascaded
Into liberty:
We are of Zion sailings;
Liberation shores waiting:-
Come, Babylon child,
Let’s rise up and set our sails;
A new day coming:
We conquering these waters
Of Babylon with justice
Rise up my people,
We have sailing chores to do;
There’s no resting now:-
God’s chartered the way for us;
It’s time to get back on course:-
God’s navigating,
Let us just get to sailing;
The shores are waiting:
Let waves of change froth us on,
With God's wisdom and guidance:-
Remember Zion,
God’s the wind in our sails, too;
Let us sail onwards:
Sailing the ancestral way,
To justice and equity:-
Time to hoist our sails
Into coming winds of change
Sailing likewise waves:
Oppressive Babylon ways,
Daily splashed with Zion froth:-
The Hudson River stretches wide
From Jersey to the far west side.
The east, though, is where I reside
So I don’t see it much.
It’s quite majestic, driving past
And on the highway, going fast,
I try to conjure up the past
When locals spoke in Dutch.
‘Cross town, another river flows,
Much narrower and, I suppose,
Some Germans came because that shows
In restaurants and such.
Between the rivers, New York grew
And other cultures added to
The melting pot, which no one knew
Would suffer Ice’s clutch.
In the depths of silence, thoughts flow like underground rivers,
where the moonlight stops to rest its weary wings,
and time seems an illusion, a grain of sand lost in the hourglass of eternity,
here, in the heart of silence, the thoughtful man crafts his own universe.
There is no rest for the thinker, only endless journeys,
among the shadows of memories and unfulfilled dreams that smolder quietly,
in a silent dance, in the depths of the mind, where silence sings,
and each moment becomes a new beginning, an unwritten poem.
Those who watch from afar do not know that in stillness life pulses,
that in each breath lie entire worlds, unspoken and infinite,
and in the depths of apparent nothingness, constellations of thoughts ignite,
where the thoughtful man finds his greatest activity.
In the shadow of silence, where only the echo of thoughts can penetrate,
lie the secrets of the universe, understood only by those who know how to listen,
and in this dance of silence, the esoteric magic of creation is born,
for only silence can reveal what noise conceals.
Sub Categories
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.