Inspirational Poems
Natures Fountain
From the top of the mountain, yet through the haze
A waterfall flows, as natures spring,
Into the landscape, as a beautiful maze,
Cutting its path like a long curling string,
A natural beauty, displaying it’s strength,
Carving it’s destiny, to the stream below,
Flowing with ease, to it’s fullest length,
With cool, clear water, as it continues it’s flow,
The chilling of air, the color of leaves,
Fall is fading and Winter is near,
Soon to bring snow, to cover the trees,
Only to share, natures waterfall tear.
B J Ayers
THE WATERFALL
I am amazed as I gaze upon the waterfall
Gently falling down as a clear spring
Where many fishes eagerly swims with joy
While birds fly above as they keep singing.
Its murmuring as it flows over the rocks
Echoes a melody with rhythm enchanting
As if I am upon a symphony of singing stars
Joyfully clapping as their hearts screaming.
The trees around sweetly smile with joy
As they sip the nectar of the lurking spring
swaying down to kiss the river's floor
Entwined with fishes patiently waiting.
Melvin Bannggolay
Waterfall Poem
As the waters flow from the rivers to the sea
continuously shaping, changing,
they affect all they touch,
So does my love for thee.
Progressively molding, forming,
affecting my life in every way and so very much.
As the mountains which lay dormant for so very long,
until caressed by the waters rushing through them,
awakened to new life that sweetly flows within.
So is my love for thee
For what has lain dormant for so very long,
until thy gentle kiss,
thy tender touch, thy loving words,
which mean so much.
Caused a river of love to burst forth.
It awakened my heart, my love to a new life.
A life that may never find peace
but in thy loving arms
As the mountains, rivers and waterfalls become one
so must we ~~
By Janet Rapelje
Under The Waterfall
'Whenever I plunge my arm, like this,
In a basin of water, I never miss
The sweet sharp sense of a fugitive day
Fetched back from its thickening shroud of gray.
Hence the only prime
And real love-rhyme
That I know by heart,
And that leaves no smart,
Is the purl of a little valley fall
About three spans wide and two spans tall
Over a table of solid rock,
And into a scoop of the self-same block;
The purl of a runlet that never ceases
In stir of kingdoms, in wars, in peaces;
With a hollow boiling voice it speaks
And has spoken since hills were turf less peaks.'
'And why gives this the only prime
Idea to you of a real love-rhyme?
And why does plunging your arm in a bowl
Full of spring water, bring throbs to your soul?'
'Well, under the fall, in a crease of the stone,
Though precisely where none ever has known,
Jammed darkly, nothing to show how prized,
And by now with its smoothness opalized,
Is a drinking glass:
For, down that pass
My lover and I
Walked under a sky
Of blue with a leaf-wove awning of green,
In the burn of August, to paint the scene,
And we placed our basket of fruit and wine
By the runlet's rim, where we sat to dine;
And when we had drunk from the glass together,
Arched by the oak-copse from the weather,
I held the vessel to rinse in the fall,
Where it slipped, and it sank, and was past recall,
Though we stooped and plumbed the little abyss
With long bared arms. There the glass still is.
And, as said, if I thrust my arm below
Cold water in a basin or bowl, a throe
From the past awakens a sense of that time,
And the glass we used, and the cascade's rhyme.
The basin seems the pool, and its edge
The hard smooth face of the brook-side ledge,
And the leafy pattern of china-ware
The hanging plants that were bathing there.
'By night, by day, when it shines or lours,
There lies intact that chalice of ours,
And its presence adds to the rhyme of love
Persistently sung by the fall above.
No lip has touched it since his and mine
In turns there from sipped lovers' wine.'
by Thomas Hardy
