 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:19:38 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 114418
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => River
[time] => 2006-02-07 07:18:11
[hometext] => ...an all inclusive epic using nature's water cycle as metaphor...
[bodytext] => River ...dedicated first of all to my precious little sister, and then, to all humanity, rivers, one and all... I think, perhaps, it is time... River: ...she is universal, an individual, infinite, one... ...she is basic essentialness, of a nature so accepted as to be common, the warp and weave shared by every living thing, the salinity of bloods... ...and yet, singularly unique, wonderfully personal, infused with everlasting sacredness... "River is water." Truth, Wisdom, Beauty and Love; these experience consummation in the sacred plasma of the heavens. ...River's consummation was, as is all, in the heavens, also... ...before all else, she was of spirit, independent of mass and energy, high, high above any terrestrial surface... ...a preponderance of the minutest particles, these becoming enmeshed... two bound to a third creating one indestructible precious whole... a plentitude of such, drawn... destined... choreographed by deity... gathering as family, laughing, giggling, thrilling, dancing, Loving... simply extending a hand... reaching, and having reached, experiencing the incomparable rush of finding and being found... So it was, as River was formed. "River is water. The water, is River." River descended... ...without voice, without means to hear, only capable of believing, all, every one, each member of River danced extravagant designs... blending, finding, flowing, seeking, knowing, racing... ...all, in dynamic entirety, coming Beautifully together, an entirely pleasing saturation, a living, deeply satisfied harmonious multitude, heavy with purpose, pulled, drawn, experiencing the timeliness of movement, a forwardness, always forward, a fearless forwardness, the naturalness of purpose, flowing, flowing, simply flowing, Beautifully flowing... ...barely a noticeable trickle, yet, so definitely flowing... "River is water. The water, is River. River, is the water." ...delighting in the pristine innocence of newness, River meandered, playfully brushing against cat tails, polishing the stones that formed her bed, pausing to caress newborn water lilies, sparkling, at times singing, a gentle wordless tune, magically lyrical... singing as only River is able... all the time, she flows, simply flows, gently flows, forward, flowing forward, always forward, flowing, forward, flowing destined, a future focus, a something, a concept of which she had yet to know, to understand... no matter, River's days were satisfyingly spent, flowing, exquisitely flowing, rapturously flowing, Beautifully, most Beautifully, flowing. "River is water. The water, is River. River, is the water. Water is pure." River's days of delicious innocence was to know an end, a painful, disturbing end... ...sewage, raw, filthy, disgusting, fecal and urinous sewage... ...stunned, shock reverberating throughout, River stumbled forward, still forward, experiencing the familiarity of forward, the comfort of forward, River stumbled, forward... ...why, River recoiled, retreating to a memory, a recollection of warmth, contentment, security, safety, all the time wondering, why... why... why. "River is water. The water, is River. River, is the water. Water is pure. River, is the water." On and on and on, River stumbled, on and on and on... feces and urine were now joined by breath denying chemistry, poisons, detergents, ulcerous monsters, menacing substances intent on maiming, crippling, twisting, destroying... ...how, how... ...why was this abomination poured into me, how could this abhorrence have entered my life... what... what, oh, what, oh, what, oh, what did I do... River could no longer believe. ...in painful disbelief, River's meandering became wandering, her sunshine became dusk, her hope, fear... and the voices... benevolent voices... these good intentioned voices, declared her guilt, condemned, in the name of divinity, damned... so heavy was River's burden, so unbearable was her agony, so cold was her night, so frigid were the hands that held her, so suffocating was the goodness of this terrestrial sphere... despondent, River petitioned an end to her existence... ...she was denied. "River is water. The water, is River. River, is the water. Water is pure. River, is the water. River, is pure." ...flowing was torturous, forward was absurd, belief, a mockery of the empirical... River succumbed to the hopelessness that seemed to permeate her soul. River despaired. ...industrial waste, carcinogens, mankind's deplorable refuse, the voices... River was made to believe, in her unpretentious innocence, River was made to believe, caused to assume culpability, for this colossal mass of debauchery... ...she was not... River was not. ...most unfortunately, Truth is of little use, of miniscule impact, to those, to the masses which rely on the sensual... River died, within... she no longer had strength to know, no longer understood, no longer believed, no longer flowed. "River is water. The water, is river. River, is the water. Water is pure. River, is the water. River, is pure. River, is the water." River knew not a thing... despondency ruled all twenty-four hours of her day... lost, blind, emptied, still, finally, still, so desperately still... and, in that stillness, in this essential silence, in the sacredness of cosmic silence, she heard... River, heard... "River is water. The water, is River. River, is the water. Water is pure. River, is the water. River, is pure. River, is the water. River, is, Loved." Such sweet release. ...responding to the warmth of the sun, River rose to the heavens, once again, laughing, giggling, thrilling, dancing, blending, finding, flowing, seeking, knowing, racing, believing, and best of all, Loving. rko february sixth, two thousand six seven forty-seven, p.m. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 166 [topic] => 21 [informant] => enigma [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 7 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com