Poem of Tesla by Miloje Popović

Statue of Nikola Tesla at Niagara Falls, Ontario. Photo by Andrew Porteus, January 23, 2007

Carved from bitter cliffs of Lika peaks
Passing along the miracles of shine –
he shared flames and grew to divine

Ten fingers –
released the forces of giants
His visions and grants –
pushed the torrents to Niagara plants

without hats and tricks
without canes and bricks

From caves, mysterious and frightening
he gifted the world with lightening –
Shoreham tower in the skies –
a hint of miraculous wireless device

Gentleman –
making company to sleepless dawns…
With a single move and step –
seven miles along the hills and lawns…
A golden heritage to mankind –
fascinating product of prodigious mind…

Prophet of upcoming time –
deceased in obscurity, without a dime
His soul in storms and clashes –
fortune for planet from his ashes

Source: Tesla Universe

Also published in Barkan, Stanley H. & Neale, Dorothea (editors) Americana Anthology, Volume I: Bicentennial Edition: 1776-1976.  Cross-Cultural Communications, 1976.


Helicopter Rescue: A Limerick by Andrew Porteus

Helicopter rescue at the brink of Niagara Falls Horseshoe Falls, March 19, 2003. Photo by Corey Larocque, used with permission of Niagara Falls Public Library

A man changed his mind at the last minute
Suicide was now out – past his limit.
A helicopter was called
And in he was hauled
And then they all went out for a timbit!

Source: The Author, 2019

An unidentified man was rescued from the brink of the Horseshoe Falls on March 19, 2003, after spending 90 minutes in the water. He was fortunate that the water level was low and his foot got stuck in a crack in the riverbed.

Please Help Me I’m Falling by Margaret Cole

Niagara Falls at Night. Photo by Tim Balzer, September, 2019

Hear it?
long low moan of August cicada
as lazy bee drifts amongst
purple spikes of lavender
watching summer ebb
like Fundy tides

Roar of falls drowns
this note of season passing
as they surge down cliffs
gurgling and crashing
onto rocks far below
telling stories of tumbling markets
failed military strategies
teetering autocrats, errant dictators
broken relationships
Each wavelet a moan for
something lost, gone wrong
mourning ’til that ripple hits
eddies at the base

Only at night under
beauteous coloured lights
do falls prattle of love families friendships
joys better even
than success riches and all money brings

Look for happy endings in stories told night
under multi-coloured lights
Look at nightfall for love

Source: The author, 2019

About Margaret Cole

Margaret Code is a Toronto-based poet writing since 1995.  Her work has been published in Garm Lu (Shanty Table), Lichen, Best American Poets, Who’s Who in American Poetry, Vol. 4 (2013) (Something You Never Learned), Labour of Love (Chemistry), This Time Around: Coastline (Be Longing), Big Pond Rumours (A Child’s Day at the Lake), Voices (Traditional Hippie Wedding), Art Bar Team Reading Anthology (Kiss of the Blue Danube, Scarlet Tote), The Poetrain Anthology (Brochure Boasts, Poetrain of the Canadian) Memory and Loss (I Never Saw It Coming) and Chickadee (Itchy Scratchy Bumps). In 2013 she won an audience-voted Best Originals contest and in 2015 took second place in a Big Pond Rumours contest with her poem, A Child’s Day at the Lake.   She has received three poet-voted Best Poem awards in the Hot Sauced Words Poetry Theme Challenge.  Margaret attends a number of poetry events in Toronto, delighted in the journey on the PoeTrain from Winnipeg to Vancouver in the spring of 2015 and is active on the boards of the Art Bar Poetry Series and the Toronto Writers’ Coop.

Lines Written at Sun-rise in Sight of the Falls of Niagara by Erieus

Sunrise at the Brink of Niagara Falls. Photo by Charlie Schnurr. Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

‡‡‡‡ The orient beam now peers from yonder East,
And roseate blushes tinge the verge of heaven,
While sable night withdraws her dark blue veil,
Bespangled deep with sparkling gems of light,
And fair Aurora shoots th’ empurpled ray, —
The earliest ray of radiant, dewy, morn,
Sublime the scene! Earth and her children lie
Silent as death, while, high above, the arch
Of the celestial spheres glows with the fires
That light immensity, and swift revolves,
In its diurnal circuits, around the poles,
Silent as death, is all, except yon burst
Tremendous, from the deep, embowell’d earth,
Silence, as from Etna’s boiling gulph, the roar
Of rolling thunders issues, on the wing
Outstretch’d, of the quiescent air, and stung
Th’ astonish’d ear of night.    As yet the morn,
Slow lingering, skirts the sky; — but soon its beams
Reveal the floating mount, that lay, but late,
A gloomy bank upon the blue expanse,
And shew, as from some cloudclapt eminence,
The dusky volume of incumbent spray,
High heap’d in midway heaven, that hangs condensed
As threatening tempest o’er the rushing surge,
Whence it, evolving, steams, and hurries up,
In rapid flight, and tosses, whirls, and rolls,
And wheels sublime, in convoluted wreaths
And giant columns huge, immense, and spouts,
In swelling masses, from the thundering gulph,
Obscure and dark, that rages deep below,
And plunging, tumbling, tossing, foaming drives,
With furious blast, the mounting spray that shoots
Heavenward, in changeful evolution swift,
Until it mingles with the mass above,
Thus seems the cataract when now the morn
Hath chased the dense obscurity away,
That close enveloped all, while night her veil
Hung o’er the world.    But soon gay morning spreads
A lucid mantle o’er the rising scene —
The fields — the woods — the flood precipitant,
Resistless rolling down the giant steep —
The stormy bosom of the wave below,
Seen partial and obscure — the heaving mounds
Of broken water, that tumultuous rush,
Rebounding forceful, from the hollow rocks,
Now here, now there, and jostling, mingling; plunge
And sink in swift succession — all above,
The shelving rocks, projecting, threatening hang
Suspended as it were — their shaggy heads
Crown’d with dense foliage that, dependent, skirts
The farthest edge — the trees that, dripping, drink
The falling spray, the river rough above
That boiling, plunging o’er its rugged bed,
In hurried fury storms, and roars and bounds,
From rock to rock, and dreadful smokes along
To gain the farthest brink, and thus to shoot,
And tumbling, strike to the continuous peal
That deep, incessant, rolls its thunder thro’
The troubled air, whilst earth, convulsive, shakes,
And owns the force, resistless, of the flood.
‡‡‡‡ Wonder of wonders, hail! fain would I strike
My lyre to thee, and from its deepest chords,
Awake the theme, sublime; but deeper, oh!
Thy thousand thunders toll.    My trembling muse
Casts round on thee her wilder’d, anxious gaze —
Starts back upon herself, and shrinks before
Th’ aspiring thought of such adventurous song.


Source: Burwell, Adam Hood.  The Poems of Adam Hood Burwell, Pioneer Poet of Upper Canada. ed. by Dr. Carl F. Klinck. (Western Ontario History Nuggets no. 30, May 1963). London, Ont.: Lawson Memorial Library, The University of Western Ontario, 1963

Originally published in The Scribbler (Montreal), III, 105-106, February 13, 1823

Adam Hood Burwell published poems under the pen name Erieus

Cup o’ Niagara by Sarah Emtage


Royal Darwood Bone China Tea Cup and Saucer

I imagine the falls are all
peppermint tea,
the clouds are whipped cream,
and the water’s deep roar
is the tea kettle’s scream.

Source: The Author, May 2019

Biography of Sarah Emtage

Visit Sarah Emtage’s website