Carrying the Thunder by Mike Keenan

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Aerial View of Niagara Falls on a Hazy Day
Niagara Falls, Ontario in foreground, Niagara Falls, New York in background
Photo by Andrew Porteus, June 2004


Before the roar,
there is accord,

a quiet gathering
of tributaries,
gentle streams,
forgotten springs,
consenting
to become one.

 

The current remembers
every stone it has polished,
nations that stood upon its banks,
every canoe,
and whispered promise
passed downstream.

 

Then comes the edge

as water does not resist
its becoming,
but gives fully
to gravity,
to mist,
to thunder,
to light.

 

Tour boats,
slight as drifting leaves,
venture into the white cathedral,
where millions of gallons
collapse without hesitation,
the vast curtain
hurling its breath
into the sky.

 

Mist surrounds them,
soft as cloud,
fierce as weather,
until passengers vanish
inside the river’s exhalation,
laughter and astonishment
wrapped in living vapour.

 

The air blooms
with broken rainbows,
each colour stitched
from droplets
that refuse
to disappear.

 

On each shore
a city wakes
to the pulse of visitors,
their skylines
sharing the same breath,
their nights
trading reflections
across restless water.

 

The river belongs
to neither,
yet blesses both.

 

The oldest lesson
never spoken.
It rises
from the endless plunge:

 

that strength
may wear the face
of yielding,
that beauty
is often loud enough
to shake the earth,
that the water
does not repeat itself,
yet never ceases
to be the river,

 

and those who leave
carry its thunder
long after
the mist
has dried.


Source: Mike Keenan, 2026

Carrying the Thunder was entered into the Niagara Falls Poetry Project’s 25th Anniversary Poetry Contest.

Mike Keenan has been published in multiple anthologies such as the Canadian Authors Association Saving Bannister, Niagara-on-the-Lake’s Writing Circle and Ottawa’s Independent Writers Association. He won the Canadian Simone Weil Foundation award for Solstice Thirst. The Canadian Authors Association of Niagara’s poetry judge Dr. A. F. Moritz selected Solstice thirst to be published in the 19th volume of The Saving Bannister.

He currently writes a column for Torstar’s three Niagara daily newspapers, The St. Catharines Standard, Niagara Falls Review, Welland Tribune and Southwestern Ontario’s The Club Magazine. For three years, Mike was published in The Lake Report Newspaper (Niagara on the Lake). He has been published in every major Canadian newspaper including The Toronto Star and The Globe and Mail.

Mike has been published in multiple magazines including Pulse Niagara Magazine, Anchor Magazine, Niagara Life Magazine, Buffalo Spree Magazine, and West of the City Magazine.

Mike Keenan served as an Alderman for the Town of Fort Erie (four terms)

At the Brink by Louise Waldie

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Louise Waldie

The smooth flow of water draws me near
Embraces me like a warm blanket
Caresses my soul in its perfection

Patterns shifting but staying the same

Noise from the crowd fades
Music crashing from the brink fills my being
Drawing me closer and closer

I close my eyes
Completely enveloped in the peace
Nothing else exists in this fleeting moment

Not the first visit
Never the last visit
Eternally a part of me


Source: The author, 2026

At the Brink was entered into the Niagara Falls Poetry Project’s 25th Anniversary Poetry Contest.

Louise Waldie is the retired head of the IT project management office of a major national insurance company, and wife of Andrew Porteus (curator of the Niagara Falls Poetry Project). She has been active for many years on the executive of the Niagara-on-the-Lake Social Club, and as a volunteer personal shopper for people in Northern Canada who do not have access to retail outlets. In  their multigenerational complex blended family , Louise and Andrew have 5 children and 11 grandchildren with assorted spouses, and a great-grandchild.

Body of Water by Arvida Svenske


Source: Arvida Svenske, 2026.

arvida

Body of Water was entered into the Niagara Falls Poetry Project’s 25th Anniversary Poetry Contest.

Arvida Juni Svenske is a poet, a folk high-school teacher, writer and journalist born in a place called Stockholm, Sweden. She is a history buff, fantasy nerd and a huge fan of hiphop and reggae, who in 2025 just published her first poetry collection in English, Caribbean Wind, Polynesian Storm published by She Rises , in which she explores colonial crimes committed and knowledge lost, especially other views on gender than the two-gender-norm. Oh, and she’s currently writing a follow-up book that details her journey into womanhood, Estrogen speech – and oh, she has a podcast: Cohenpodden.

Reach out to her on:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arvidasvenskeauthor/
or on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100092459993992 
or even on email: arvidasvenskeauthor@gmail.com

A Maid in the Mist by Ken Gierke

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Ken Gierke

Beside a stand of reeds, I stand
on the shore of the Niagara,
dawn shedding its dim light
through morning fog.
On a rock amid those cattails,
a black-crowned night heron
turns its red eye towards me,
and the bird’s shape transforms
until I’m faced by a maiden
in a simple gown of gray and white
that shifts like the wings
of the bird that first greeted me.
Lelawala, Maid of the Mist, speaks.

Long was I troubled by the return
of the serpent that sought to poison
my people through these waters.
Only by the will of the Thunder God
was it defeated, its great body
forming the rim of the mighty falls.
But your serpent is not mine. It is industry.

While your neighbors to the north
have long sought to maintain their shore
as a parkway, it took long decades
for your people to recognize the toll
imposed by industry. The renewed state
of that shore must be a reminder
to never again let that serpent raise its head.

I realize that the fog has thinned
in the morning light, and once again
I stare into the eyes of that heron,
which turns from me to take flight.

I wake and I’m left with a fading memory,
an early morning mist that dissipates
in a warm October sunrise as the air loses
its grasp on the river, lets it slip back
into its already cooling depths,
that air now filled with sunlight.


Source: Ken Gierke, 2026

A Maid in the Mist was entered into the Niagara Falls Poetry Project’s 25th Anniversary Poetry Contest.

Ken Gierke was born and raised in Western New York and, since moving to Missouri in 2012, has missed Niagara Falls the most. He was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has been featured online and in numerous print anthologies. His four poetry collections from Spartan Press, Glass Awash (1922), Heron Spirit (2024), Random Riffs (2025), and The Long Haul (2026), are available on Amazon. More of his poetry can be found at https://rivrvlogr.com/.

A Bison in a Cage by Jennifer Filipowicz

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Broadside Advertising the Schooner Michigan Being Sent Over the Falls
Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

Each second over Horseshoe Falls two million liters flood,
And many a macabre tale pollutes the flow with blood,
From suicides, to murders, to barrel stunts gone bad,
All the trauma, gore and death, it’s terrible and it’s sad.

But what tale could be the worst upon the raging water.
A tale of human cruelty, a tale of needless slaughter.
The tale that fills me up the most with sorrow and with rage,
At the bottom of the Falls, there’s a bison in a cage.

A plan was hatched two centuries past when tourism was down,
By three hotel business men named Forsyth, Whitney and Brown.
Forsyth mused “We need a way to bring people to our town,”
“We could send a pirate ship over Horseshoe falls,” said Brown.

“An empty ship,” said Whitney, “Isn’t wild enough I find.”
“On board shall be ferocious beasts of every different kind.”
“Yes!” the men exclaimed at once, then they shook hands and agreed.
“A ruined Noah’s Arc is just the spectacle we need!”

Of the trio, not one man stopped to think this might be wrong.
An old schooner, the Michigan, was purchased for a song.
It was a British navy boat in the 1812 war,
And then a merchant vessel traveling from shore to shore.

By 1827, the time of this dark tale,
The ship was old and broken down, not even fit to sail.
Tied to the Michigan’s foremast the Jolly Roger flew,
And secured upon the deck was a dummy pirate crew.

With Union Jack on the stern, Stars and Stripes on the bow,
They showed our post war countries were friendly and peaceful now.
Though they wanted lions and tigers for their floating zoo,
They got raccoons, fox, and geese, and a couple of bears too.

Some say there was an eagle, some say a dog and a cat.
The reporters of the time didn’t all agree on that.
They promised this would be the spectacle of the age.
In the middle of the ship was a bison in a cage.

Ten thousand people came to watch and business was good.
The pubs ran out of beer; the restaurants ran out of food.
The people gathered by the edge to get a better view,
And marvel at the fate of our frightened animal crew.

A steamship called Chippewa had the Michigan in tow
A kilometer from the edge it let the old ship go.
The raging river moved the boat astonishingly fast
The geese all honked and ran about, the raccoon climbed the mast.

The spectators agreed it looked like chaos on the deck,
As fur and fowl tried as they might to get off of the wreck.
But in amidst the madness as the river war did wage,
Remaining stoic and serene, a bison in a cage.

Two bears leapt off the fated boat and swam towards the shore
They made it to Goat Island then despite the river’s roar
Some say the bears lived out their lives while some say they did not
Some local hunters tracked them down and they were promptly shot.

The Michigan was tossed about and soon was smashed to pieces
Fragments were swept down the falls with the racoons and geeses.
Amongst all this destruction, at a speed that’s hard to gauge.
Soaring o’er Niagara Falls, a bison in a cage.

A single goose was found alive, the rest fated to die
The bird was badly battered and she only had one eye.
She was lucky to have survived, at least that’s how it looked.
Until a fancy dinner feast when our poor goose was cooked.

Some say a cat survived as well, I guess we’ll never know
How many lives were dashed that day in the Falls mighty flow.
And Forsyth, Brown and Whitney all made out with wealth abound.
Neither the bison nor the cage was ever even found.


Source: Jennifer Filipowicz, 2026

This poem was entered into the Niagara Falls Poetry Project’s 25th Anniversary Poetry Contest.

Read about the Michigan spectacle

Jennifer Filipowicz moved to the Niagara area in 2025 with her husband, two teenage children and their dogs. When she’s not working as a background performer on a film set, or manning the front desk at a retirement home, Jennifer can be found hiking the Bruce Trail, swimming at Sunset Beach, or reading a book by her backyard pond.