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River Song
by David HillThe Rental Man, he drives me,
he leaves this simple guarantee,
No matter what you choose to be
you’re destined to become the sea.
So off key only slightly,
I sing of birds and cooling breeze,
I hum the sounds of rushing streams
the gentle sweetness loneness brings,
Of flowers going nova
upon a granite canvas bluff,
of fallen trees that tumble dead
and settle on the river bed.
The trees lean in from both sides,
they form the frame in which I ride,
an osprey calls cheerooh cheerooh,
I tell her she is beautiful.
A thunk and grated scraaaaping,
at times I miss the river’s way,
but when I read the currents right,
A lap-slap thrums my kayak’s side.
04/17/2011 Author's Note: rhyme-a lime-a lime, it took a lotta time, I know-a know-a know, it may not even show
Posted on 04/17/2011
Copyright © 2026 David Hill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/17/11 at 08:14 PM So many great examples of language and style. I love the mindset in this thing. |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 04/17/11 at 10:14 PM ...a good choppy ride. intricate.mmmmm. |
| Posted by James Blaylock on 04/18/11 at 07:05 AM I really enjoyed your style and flow within this piece. It had my mind swimming. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/21/11 at 03:59 AM This was a fun read. I really like the "flowers going nova upon a granite canvas bluff". Also, "the gentle sweetness loneness brings" is a line as smooth as silk. Thank you. |
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