Waterside Poems | Examples

Where The River Cries

The poet hears the river’s cry
In the flow of waters going by

Ebb and flow, calm and storm
The poet finds the river’s form

In verse – in words that soothe and lift
The river’s wound the water shifts – 

From idle streams on mountain keeps
To waterfalls that never sleep

And brooks that ease through valleys by, 
Which understand the river’s cry,

To the river flowing ever on
To the verse, the poem and the poet’s song – 

Oh, the poet knows the river’s cry
In the verse it lays at waterside

Nearer now than the muse it knows
For the poet knows the verses flow

From the flow of waters going by
Where the river goes, where the river cries

Feels Like Home: Glenn Hughes

You sing of how it feels to be
At the waterside 
Like the willow tree

How the nightly schemes 
Comfort troubled heart;
Velvet pillow dreams

As to window gaze
Past the memory haze
Of love's vocal praise

'May God guide me through'
Your voice it sings
Back to home so true

---
*Placed 10th*
Sponsor: Robert James Ligouri, 14.4.24
Contest: Glenn Hughes
---

Jagged

The ancient jagged rocks stand, like black sentinels along the waterside,
Protecting the land from the continuous raging tide.

They are perpetually black, either slicked with water or as a sharp silhouette against a blue crystal sky.
They dominate everything and are especially feared by every mariner that make their slow way by.

On their landward faces they offer protection from the wind,
And creatures shelter there, in a place where peace is so hard to find.

The tops are sharpened points, that seem to reach right up to the clouds,
The only sounds are the wind, the sea and the gulls screeching out loud.

These sounds are never ending they go on for eternity,
The sentinels just ignore it all and stand there protecting everything from the everlasting sea.

William Soutar Translation

Ballad
by William Soutar
translation/modernization by Michael R. Burch

O, surely you have seen my love
Down where the waters wind:
He walks like one who fears no man
And yet his eyes are kind!

O, surely you have seen my love
At the turning of the tide:
For then he gathers in his nets
Down by the waterside!

Yes, lassie we have seen your love
At the turning of the tide:
For he was with the fisher folk
Down by the waterside.

The fisher folk worked at their trade
No far from Walnut Grove:
They gathered in their dripping nets
And found your one true love!

Keywords/Tags: William Soutar, Scottish, Scot, Scotsman, ballad, water, waterside, tide, nets, nets, fisher, fishers, fisher folk, fishermen, love, sea, ocean, lost, lost love, loss

Ma Jebeh's Children

Ma Jebeh's Children

They sit to Redlight, Waterside and Omega,
Selling fufu, cornflakes and meat pie,
Sometimes even crayfish and chicken thighs,
In muddy waters and messy trousers.

They have a great dream,
But their eyes are being shut from every little gleams,
They have told that putting Bible in your pocket,
Is that what you were sent for.


When one gets a chance to the Mansion,
Well he's told that the others are not his blood,
But Ma Jebeh's Children will soon break loose,
From the oppressor.


The ones who seem discerned minded,
These the oppressor kills with pleasure,
Take their wealth and make it his treasure.

-Gabriel T. Saah (Marvelous Inker).

Broken Bridges An Ekphrasis Tribute

beside the sea
       running sa
slowly
    flowing
as floods
       released
where
     rivers meet
out
of
reach

waterside
          meets countryside
with
force&grace
             tides high
             weeds&silt
rustic calm
           comes
                 to rest
  

arches once stood
verandered
                wide
now
neglected
              so still
the dream
        as in a vacuum
unattained

where
      farewells&tears
                            abound
out of place
yet
      know before
plain&high
truly laid
             to stand the strain
one might
suppose

          formed
               then stormed
as strength
withdrew
            inspiration
once poured
               for fame&name
leaving
      the
         nearly
             past

The List

Run
Run as fast as you can
Live
Live like it's your last day
Love
Love unconditionally
Dig
Dig deep into your soul
Laugh
Laughter is good medicine
Dream
Dream yourself away
Rest
Rest along the waterside
Watch
Watch the sunrise
Remember
Remember where you came from
Wash
Wash all the troubles away
Seek
Seek the peace and wisdom
Pray
Pray for another day.....

The Slay Mamas

Akuchi is a teacher, 
She's a slay mama.
Bintu is a banker,
She's a slay mama.
Tolani is a trader,
She's a slay mama.
So is Preye,the young woman
who lives by the waterside.
She's  a college student.
These mamas share similiar routines;
Inner linings,check.....
Hair,check....
Nails,check....
Clothes, check....
Shoes,check......
Reasoning,attitude, hard work,
Check,check,check.....
These are women ever on fleek.
Instagram knows them,no doubt.
They make the clock of twitter click.
In the society, 
they are forces to be reckoned with.
Of a truth,the true slay mamas.

Pond

Wheeled myself this morning
 To the waterside, flawlessly mirroring
 Bright white, blue coloured early sky
 Daisies strewn around like smithereens
 Hip hopping bird, questioningly
 Asking for crumbs I have not, why
 Not bring that one small gift of love
 For this one small friend?

Humming wordless sound
 Watching whirligig beetle
 Turn and twist, walk like that one son
 On water, or diving under, oblivious
 To my admiring eyes, if only for
 One second, or one hour to
 Walk the surface like a bouncer
 Swim and dive, breathe in deeply.

Butterfly

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Walking along the waterside
One evening of a sunny Sunday
With a basket full of flowers
Into it fell a butterfly!

Fly! Fly! Away 
Butterfly, you better fly
With your wings,
Full of beautiful colors

In my basket,
Though full of flowers	
Is without nectar,
So butterfly, you better fly.

Walking along the waterside
One evening of a sunny Sunday
With a basket full of flowers
Into it fell a butterfly!

Fly! Fly! Away 
Butterfly, you better fly
With your wings,
Full of beautiful colors

In my basket,
Though full of flowers	
Is without nectar,
So butterfly, you better fly.

 Walking along the waterside
One evening of a sunny Sunday
With a basket full of flowers
Into it fell a butterfly!

Fly! Fly! Away 
Butterfly, you better fly
With your wings,
Full of beautiful colors

In my basket,
Though full of flowers	
Is without nectar,
So butterfly, you better fly.

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Recycling

Waters edge
gator lies
raccoon gets
big surprise!

In forest
something hides
bird on branch
with two 
slit eyes...

Unsuspecting
no cry
empty branch
lump inside!

Snake digesting
waterside
hungry croc
snake inside!

Swimming salmon
seeking spawn
searing pain
bears claw!

Plants decay
feeding ground
newborn sprouts
spring abounds.

Life’s cycle
ever green
it recycles
everything.

Life’s cycle
circles ‘round
all life
feeds ground.

The Season That Didn'T Exist

So the time
just like a river
lowers each waterside
from a higher
to a small one
or from colorful
to horizon.
Yes.
So the time.

The children,
each fall
the yellow leaves
they gather.

"The Man Who…" 2009

Journal Vi - Tangled In Seclusion

JOURNAL VI – Tangled
In Seclusion

Looking through
various American Art
Reviews
I find I’m drawn to
the country rustic
scene –
A stream, or lake,
uncluttered
A thatched hut or
neat, plain farm
house (oh not
      too neat – a
place to luxuriate
in undisturbed
      comfort) 
A small boat to
determine,
waterside, the
lake’s 
      size
And, of course,
delicious greenery,
wild flowers
Some domestic beasts
perhaps -
Though the lake may
be a clear cerulean
My total scene may
be cluttered,
pinched 
      together,
A veritable super
sundae for the eye
Why this favorite
canvas?
Being city-raised
might be an answer –
though 
      mine a certain
benign type of
clutter,
That removed from
city turmoil,
By protective trees
and hills, with a
few distant
      billowing,
unthreatening clouds
In these last few I
would find a
peaceful 
      freshness
tangled in seclusion
To renew a fading
spirit

To Heal a Heart

I sit here by the waterside
Watching the river flow
Dreaming of the day when you were born
To me that day does not seem so long ago .
My heart swooned when you took your first step
Then melted with your first word
You singing your first nursery rhyme 
The sweetest sound I have ever heard .
I have watched you grow and I've felt such pride
My heart overflows with love for you
The joy we've shared and the tears we've cried
Are so many yet so few
I would never trade a moment 
Of anything we've ever done 
but darling , My heart is telling me 
The best is yet to come.

Aye a Pirate

Down by the waterside
I ached for a ride
Then came a tiny canoe sail
Rollin its small tail

Mind you sailor
I-the wielder of the Ockrentor
The 'craziest' poet
And can you him beat?
I dream I believe
He sparingly revved
Life has made me a panther
I a lynx do be rather
He smiled showing all broken pieces
This crazy to think you got the bits
I was this and that
I grunted
What are you he asked
Me is not a pirate
I'm a poet
You a mooo...
No hawk, I'm Oiroegbu
Aye you look serious
I'm a man of surprises

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