I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

22 March 2017

The Home River

Ah, river, river, silver river!
Island-born, I lived inland;
loved you, river,
even more than I did the foaming ocean.

Floated and swam in your slippery-smooth embrace: 
your delighted daughter
sunlit or shadowed, under trees overhanging the banks, or among reeds,
or out in the exposed middle.
Each patch of river had its own 
separate, boundaried temperature: shiver-chill
or warm in a way that relaxed and expanded the blood.

River, river, my childhood river,
winding through my years, the first fifteen,
before I was moved too far away – 
pouring down the gorge, erupting in rock-punctuated torrents
or else spread like a lake, underneath fleets of little boats ...
you are my home, my love, my heart, 
if only in memory, still forever –
real river, dream river,
never lost, 
never forgotten.













Tamar river (Tasmania) from Brady's lookout (near Exeter).
Original uploader was Kyle sb at en.wikipedia

Transferred from en.wikipedia
Permission details GFDL-SELF-WITH-DISCLAIMERS;
Released under the GNU Free Documentation License.


Written in response to Poetics: The River at dVerse.
Also linking to Brendan's Weekend Mini-Challenge: Home at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. 

I set out to make this a descort, and it nearly is, but they're not supposed to have rhymes and in this one it was nice to do rhymy things with the word 'river'.

20 comments:

  1. So beautiful. Nothing claims our heartstrings more than the rivers of our childhood. For me, it was Mission Creek, in the countryside surrounding my home town. Beautiful writing, Rosemary.

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  2. My adopted river :) ... thank you for this lovely poem.

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    1. Thank you! (I thought you might relate to this one.)

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  3. For me it is the Hudson River. Ahhhh.

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  4. I grew up by the sea, and I think that any water where you grew up has that power over us. This reads like a hymn and a wonderful one.

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  5. Such a delight to read Rosemary.So many aspects of the river are given life here. Brought back memories of my own childhood River haunts. It serves also as a powerful metaphor for our lost youth.Two birds, one stone and all in the river. Thank You for sharing.

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  6. a river keeping too many good memories. :)

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  7. There's real joy in this evocation of memory. I especially loved the leaping rhythm of the opening.

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  8. This beautiful tribute to your beloved river has such a strong invitation within to revisit this special place ��

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    1. I have revisited it a number of times over the years, Xenia, and never tire of seeing it again.

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  9. I grew up by a little stream and appreciated your words here, a youth and childhood remembered so lovingly connected to the river that flowed

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  10. Nice remembrance of one's childhood through a remembrance of this river.

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  11. Such a happy and fun-filled piece. 😁

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  12. right from heart....it is so beautiful!

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  13. Rosemary, this is just incredibly beautiful. A gorgeous tribute.

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  14. I love it Rosemary as it sings to me ~ Thanks for joining us ~

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  15. Such a wonderful feeling of nostalgia runs through this... sigh.. lovely!!❤️

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  16. For me it was Russian River. This lovely poem took me back there. Thank you

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  17. The nostalgia is poignant here as we reminisce our childhood years...our dreams built from rivers' edges...Moon River, Moody River haunt me sometimes in a good way.

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  18. pouring down the gorge, erupting in rock-punctuated torrents
    or else spread like a lake, underneath fleets of little boats ...
    you are my home, my love, my heart,

    One keeps the dreams alive just by looking at its slow leisurely pace!

    Hank

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