Category: Niagara Falls Poetry

Winter Falls by Rich Roach

sleep niagara
Niagara Falls in Winter, 1890s. Photo courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

Sleep, sleep, Niagara, deep beneath the ice;
    Your native thunder quell, that peace may reign
About your mammoth frame; let calm entice
    Your weary waters, evermore a fane
For weary hearts to perch, spellbound in awe:
    Carve caverns from the layered ice and snow,
That out the gap you breathe both rough and raw;
    Along your sides let chilly north winds blow,
And cystallize the limbs of every tree
    Guarding the lofty borders of your brim;
Let famished seagulls from your chill face flee,
    That nothing stay the zealous eye to skim
        Your placid whiteness, lost in rare displays
        Of wonder, dreamy scenes for all to praise

Source: The author, 2001.

Great Cataract Sublime by Rich Roach

great cataract sublime
Aerial view of the Niagara River Whirlpool and Rapids. Photograph by Andrew Porteus
Niagara Falls, great cataract sublime,
    Whose mists, like dragons, curl against the sky;
O thund’ring god, whose movement over time
    Has gouged a mile-wide path, where seagulls fly
And trace your giant steps, each twist and turn,
    Down yawning gorge to where the whirlpool boils
Beneath the dancing rapids — wild they churn,
    Twisting, as round great rocks the river coils —
Why now the tears? The thousand voices sighing?
    Do you not hear the reverent silence? Awe
And fear upon each frozen tongue? The dying
    Exhalations of spirits, which, like straw
        Before the winds, are strewn to airy silence?
        You hear, you see, with pity not defiance.

Source: The author, 2001.

Niagara by Mary A. Shepherd

shepherd niagara
Aerial view of Niagara Falls. Photo by Andrew Porteus

Through the ear the “Mighty Thunderer” makes
First assault upon the senses. A roar,
Like a thousand throbbing jungle drums, shakes
The earth, calling to see what lies in store.
Then through the eye, fearing to look away,
Lest it lose one moment of such splendour.
Then through the flesh, as on the face, cold spray
Mingles with tears which awe doth engender.
Indians, priests, explorers visioned naught
Of the miracles which were to flower,
As man with his struggling, probing mind sought
And found means to harness thy great power.
What riddles since first thy birth by glacier!
What riddles yet ere the last erasure!

Source: V.B. Rhodenizer (ed.) Canadian Poetry Magazine vol. 21, no. 1, Autumn 1957.

Early This Morning by Betty Ann Whitney

whitney
A Foggy Morning in May at Niagara Falls. Photo by Andrew Porteus

Early this morning
the song of Niagara falls
into the dense fog
like a poem, at sunrise–
asking nothing in return.

copyright– Betty Ann Whitney, Wesley Chapel, FL, USA

Source: Reprinted from Sol Magazine  www.sol-magazine.org

Early this Morning by Betty Ann Whitney was  First Place winner of the
Sunrise Tank II, contest, subject: Sunrise at Niagara Falls, Houston
Chapter of the Poetry Society of Texas’s Thirty-First annual Winter
Poetry Festival

Betty Ann Whitney is Sol Magazine’s Poetry Editor.   Her poetry and prose has appeared in anthologies, magazines, journals and other creative publications for over a decade. She has won numerous awards for her poetry.  She was Sol Magazine’s first Poet Laureate in 1998, and became assistant editor for Sol in 1999, contributing monthly articles for the glossary and Sol’s “WRITE-NOW” column.

Whitney is a member of the Poetry Society of Texas, New River Poets & Writers, Florida State Poets Association and National Federation of State Poetry Societies.

 

Niagara Falls by C.D. Onofrio

onofrio niagara falls
Niagara Falls in Winter. Photo by Andrew Porteus

Niagara Falls in the winter time. The empty rooms of
skyscraper hotels facing the river that cuts the ridge of the
rock. The waterfall moans for miles through the streets, the
only sound over the fresh mute of snowfall. The lights of
the mid-way; fun houses, freak shows, horror houses; all lit
up and no one to see. Hatchet men, monsters, ghouls,
having staring matches with wax celebrities, and rock stars
and criminals. And me, sitting in stone. My breathe the only
thought that fills the air.

Source: The Author, 2017