The River
Oct/03/2010 Filed in: Poetry
The River
By Raelea C Phillips 10/4/2010 4:30AM
By Raelea C Phillips 10/4/2010 4:30AM
A river runs swiftly and quietly
but not as fast as a steady rain
racing down aimlessly
a droplet found curiously
in the clutch of a rocky bank
A river whisper echoes for miles
like a whimpering of a tired child
rather white water
or crashing like thunder
it peacefully flows in free style
A river gracefully dances with glee
down and around every cypress tree
old but strong
content all along
a shallow bed of cypress knees
A river dark and brown with swamp
the smell of mangrove ahead in it’s mouth
birds heard chirping
frogs heard singing
crickets orchestrating every sound
The river running carries a canoe
twisting and turning a vessel of two
steering and steady
paddle when ready
listen to the river; it whispers to you
hush...the river speaks to you.
but not as fast as a steady rain
racing down aimlessly
a droplet found curiously
in the clutch of a rocky bank
A river whisper echoes for miles
like a whimpering of a tired child
rather white water
or crashing like thunder
it peacefully flows in free style
A river gracefully dances with glee
down and around every cypress tree
old but strong
content all along
a shallow bed of cypress knees
A river dark and brown with swamp
the smell of mangrove ahead in it’s mouth
birds heard chirping
frogs heard singing
crickets orchestrating every sound
The river running carries a canoe
twisting and turning a vessel of two
steering and steady
paddle when ready
listen to the river; it whispers to you
hush...the river speaks to you.
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