Short Water Under The Bridge Poems

Dry wit
dampens the past
water under my bridge...

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Broken nails
Split ends
Bruised toes
Swelled head
Damaged heart
Water under the bridge...

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Breakfast at the Deer Lodge,
Moose Tick,
Salmon Harbour,
Beaver Bay by the evergreen,
left reminded of
B.C Bud at 17,
time is 
water under the bridge.

I live in Toronto,
and drown in Maple syrup;
Canadian Bacon.
A joke....

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Too many indigo tears

The Ocean
hides them beneath
her broad blue checkered apron

White capped waves skirt across
a memory
an act
drowned
long forgotten

Vomiting up
salt and brine
debris that won’t
stay down

Resurfacing, beached
upon
tomorrow


An
old shoe
someone once
wore...

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Nostalgia ain't what it used to be, okay?

Whose ashtrays are they, anyway?

Your rose-coloured glasses are the way,

Gilding those dim, dark, distant days,

All this romantic foggy haze,

All water under the bridge these days,

Survivor baggage best kept at bay,

No need for maudlinity today,

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be, okay?...

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It bubbles and flows,
It winds around the road,
The odd bridge here and there,

In the winter it's so cold,
But it still bubbles and flows,
Sometimes it even overflows,

In the summer it's full of kids,
Trying to catch the little fish,
Still it bubbles and flows,

It's cleaned ever year,
So that it bubbles and flows,
The water never stops....

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Real friends, like brothers,
Like glue stick together
Forever, oath of crack,
To the limits and back.

When the clouds come in
And hope is thin,
They dont run for cover
Like feckless, reckless lovers.

Those bricks of hard trust
Laid so tight must
Be always remembered
And forever defended.

In loss the last straws are given,
To forget the past and be forgiven....

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Too much water under the bridge
So many bygones knocking on the door

My words bounce off ignorant armour
Repeated arguments rattle around my skull

An infinite ticket to a fairground ride on fire
Someone has to stop paying the fare

Trapped in a loop, caught in a cycle
We need to end it, we have to break free

My fight has faded, a snuffed out spark
Now I patiently await an escape path
...

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Friends or Lovers.
 
Friends or secret lovers,
which shall it be.

My how the years have flown, 
since I carved our names,
and we kissed under that old oak tree.

A lot of water under the bridge has past, 
but the fire in my heart that you started, 
was made, to forever, last.

So come, take my outstretched hand,
and lovers, and friends we shall be.
For you, 
I will always love, for all eternity    

Tango....

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MY FATHER USED TO SAY.......

My father used to say...
"Don't come back if you drown!"
He often acted the clown...
My endearing mum used to say..
"They'll come home in time for tea,
Wait and see.."
My Father used to say...
"Kids come home when they're hungry!
Now don't come back if you drown...."
My Father was always playing the clown..
River of time, all water under the bridge,
Time and the river, flowing away. 
Things my Father used to say....

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"I'm sorry for burying my face in your lap Janis Joplin."
Joplin's reply, "Water under the bridge Jim Morrison."
This is an apology that occured in Rock n Roll heaven.
Jim Morrison did in fact
in a drunken stuper so did collapse
and bury his face in Janis Joplin's lap.
Joplin was shocked and knocked him further unconscious
over his head with her bottle of Southern Comfort,
but I imagine that these two Rock n Roll legends
have patched things up and are now heavenly friends again....

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My life flows into you 
Like water under a bridge 
And when the day is through 
You'll be the one I kiss
I see it in your eyes 
One not disillusioned
And this is no surprise 
Neither you or I are moving
And all my questions they mean nothing
And all the answers I find you
Tell me how does it feel 
'Cause I'm falling into you
Live every day like tomorrow may not come
There are no guarantees for anyone
You are to me like candlelight
I hear it in your voice and it silences my strife...

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