Category: Niagara Falls Poetry

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

The Over-Song of Niagara by John Daniel Logan

Why stand ye, nurslings of Earth, before my gates,
    Mouthing aloud my glory and my thrall?
Are ye alone the playthings of the fates,
    And only ye o'ershadowed with a pall?
Turn from this spectacle of strength unbound —
    This fearful force that spends itself in folly!
Turn ye and hark above the organ-sound
    My Over-song of Melancholy!

        "I rush and roar
        Along my shore, —
            I go sweeping, thundering on;
        Yet my days, O man,
        Are but as a span,
            And soon shall my strength be gone!
        My times are measured
        In whose hand I am treasured,
            (Think not of thy little day!)
        Though I rush and roar
        Along my shore,
            I am passing away —   
                Passing away!

        "The sun and the moon
        They too shall soon
            Sink back into eternal Night :
        All earth and the sea
        Shall cease to be,
            And the stars shall melt in their flight!
        Their times are measured
        In whose hand they are treasured,
            (Think not of thy little day!)
        The celestial throng
        Chant my Over-song, —
            ' Passing away, —
                Passing away!' "

Then stand not, nurslings of Earth, before my gates,
    Mouthing aloud my glory and my thrall :
Not ye alone are playthings of the fates,
    Nor only ye o'ershadowed with a pall!

        But hark to my song
        As I sweep along,
            Thundering my organ-tone —
        "O vain is all Life,
        O vain is all Strife,
            And fruitless the Years that have flown!
        As the Worst; so the Best —
        All haste to their rest
            In the void of the Primal Unknown."

Source: Logan, John Daniel. Songs of the Makers of Canada and Other Homeland Lyrics. Toronto: William Briggs, 1911.