As the lights shimmer on the water
A rippling cascade of beauty is caused to exude
With the glowing sheen provided by the dockside glow
Making a brilliant natural interlude
When the waves ebb to and fro
And lap at the waters edge, gently
I can hear a voice in my distant mind
Whispering I love you, so pleasantly
With the white and blue lights in the distance
I walk slowly, thinking of you, and your smile
And it reminds me constantly
I have missed you for quite a while
So my mind drifts in and out of true love thoughts
Just like the waters with their Rainbow glow
And I send a message on the wind
To say I love you so
Sat by the jetty overlooking the waters
of Tombia
Waves and ripples as boats drive
pass speedily
Passengers and luggage alike all
disembarking
All by the Tombia waterside in the
riverine Rivers
Free from the hustles and bustles bedevilling
Port Harcourt
The mayhem and chaos in the Oil city all left
behind in the city
Yet such serenity by the waters of Tombia
Piece, quiet and tranquility quieten my
stress
Trying to be patient, but my patience is
running riot
Trying to stay and remain calm by the waters
of Tombia.
Roasted peppered fish and plantains my
consolation.
All by the waterside of Tombia.
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
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
---
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.
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
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).
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
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.....
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.
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.
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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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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.
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
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
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