Tag: Niagara River

The Undertow by Sasha Steensen

steensen
A mountain of snow and Ice almost reaching the crest of the American Falls at Niagara Falls
Undated photo by Gisela Scholz.
Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

I am shown
a generosity

so muddied
at the muddy bottom

of a question I forget to ask
until it’s fished out

but bloated but
in the manner of a net

a web of causal connections
attached to its corners

gently moving over
the surface of the water

how come the road
couldn’t have stayed followed

by way of hollowed out
logs & paddles

made of pawpaw wood
rather than by the crows

alone to the moment
when the Monongahela

the Allegheny
the Ohio meet

I hate the underside
of an idea

but I like the underside
of grass that grows

underwater
and I’ve seen it from there

blossom
as if the water had suddenly

stopped
and then surged forth

from there
I can see a shoal

of tadpoles
drowning themselves

I hate the idea
of the Ohio

as a magic carpet
into the heart

of the continent
a great gift

of geography
a gleaming highway

carrying a tide
of settlement

and expansion but
I despise

the idea of the three rivers
as my family tree

their canals
tributaries & branches

meeting
& later the Mississippi

by its side
for miles

until along comes my
baby floating

in a basket down
the Colorado

I despise all such
undertows

and the fact that I’ve never
heard steamwhistles

or boatmen’s bugles
I’ve never traveled

aboard The Messenger
The Telegraph

The Gladiator
The Ohio Belle

or The Great Republic
nor have I put my foot

in the Ohio
anymore than you

and the Niagara
I abhor the Niagara

in winter the
difficult beauty

of its frozen falls
and all they’ve

come to represent.

Source: Steensen, Sasha, 2010, “The Undertow,” Academy of American Poet’s Daily Poetry Series,               http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21952

Also published in: Steensen, Sasha, 2014, House of Deer, Fence Books, 93.

View Sasha Steensen’s website

 

The Niagara Way of Death Presentation

Niagara way
Tonight (May 18) at 7pm I’ll be doing the online presentation “The Niagara Way of Death: Depictions of Death & Near Death in the Poetry of Niagara Falls” at the Niagara Poetry Guild meeting. Please join us through the link at Meetup 

Death is a pervasive topic in the poetry written about Niagara Falls. In the poetry of the 19th century, the Falls themselves were seen as a metaphor for death – the approach to death, the brink between life & death, the fall into purgatory, the ascension to heaven & the covenant between the human and the divine. See how the poetry of previous times as well as today reflect those metaphors, and how the 18 categories of death at Niagara Falls is treated in the poetry of the last 250 years.

Originally presented at the Lundy’s Lane Historical Society, Andrew Porteus will be sharing with us “The Niagara Way of Death: Depictions of Death and Near-Death Experiences at Niagara Falls” a 45 minute slide presentation.

Under the Locust Boughs by Tom Lloyd Finlayson

To “J.” — written under the locust trees along the banks of the Niagara

locust

Ussher’s Creek at the Niagara River Parkway
Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library

In a realm of song and shine,
Where God’s sweetest wild flowers twine,
By Niagara’s singing stream,
Last night in a golden dream,
Wandered I, while at my side
Was a laughing maid, blue-eyed.
Spun from the silk of the corn
Were her tresses, waist length worn;
Fragile, as small pinkest shells
Her wee ears; like jingling bells
Tinkling in the soul of me
Her pure laugh of ecstacy.
Underneath the blossoming boughs
Of the locust, tender vows
Once again our young hearts made;
While the violins that played
Of the breeze, through blooms above,
Thrilled our souls with God’s first love

Source: Tom Lloyd Finlayson. Songs of Niagara Frontier and Other Poems; Autographed by the Author. St. Thomas, Sutherland Press, Limited. n.d.

Judging from the locations mentioned in the poems in this pamphlet it seems that Finlayson spent his childhood in Fort Erie, Ontario.

Rivers of Light by Wayne Ritchie

 
wayne

A Canopy of Trees
Photo supplied by Wayne Ritchie

I often look up and into the sky.
I’m guessing, Heaven only knows the reason why.
WhenI get lonesome as I usually do.
I contemplate about the time spent with you. 
My youthful years went by far too quick.
Looking up into heaven for my uncle Nick.
Being my Cub Scout leader teaching me well.
Learned a lot more, it’s amazing to tell.
Laying on my back, I see rivers of light.
I can see water flowing. It’s a wonderful sight.
He taught the boys to row a canoe.
Down through the rapids here’s what you do.
With a paddle you could make water flow.
Making your vessel travel where you wanted to go.
Tops of the trees have plenty of leaves. 
Rivers of light flowing thanks to the breeze.
One Summer we circumnavigated around the Great lakes.
We learned from his talking, by our mistakes.
I remember a river that became Niagara Falls.
The swift mighty river that became river stalls.
Rivers of my youth flowed like blood in my veins.
Learned to build fires when no one complains. 
He loved to joke, here’s one of his best.
His laughter made tears, let’s get some rest.
Folks should know you can’t drink Canada Dry.
The answer is easy, just ask yourself why.
The answer is as comfortable as nightly dreams.
Canada has too many lakes, rivers, and streams.
Nighttime fell upon my campsite under the trees.
The rivers went dark, went to my knees.
Giving thanks to the Lord for the view.
So very thankful that I can tell you.
Open your eyes to the great sights we see.
There all around us, take it from me.

Source: Wayne Ritchie, 2023

At the time of submitting this poem, Wayne Ritchie was 73 years old and had been writing poetry and short stories for 60 years.

My First Visit to Niagara Falls by Wayne Ritchie

Fisherman in the Niagara River Near the Brink of the Falls. March 2003
Photo by Andrew Porteus

The forest is so quiet and I don’t know why.
Yes it’s all up to the man in the sky.
I’ve heard the water but I never saw it fall.
Now I know why humans come for the thrill of it all.
The animal kingdom keeps saying the world’s lost its cool.
The whole human race has turned into a gigantic fool.
Not one single human ventures out from their tiny abode.
My guess is humans think the world’s ready to explode.
It’s hotter in the summer and colder when it snows.
They always blame global warming however Mother Nature really knows.
Well I saw for myself, stepped out taking a chance.
Never knew falling water knew how to shimmy and dance.
The sound is so deafening, it is hurting my ears.
Water is splashing my face like I’m filled with tears.
Feels so cold to the touch, I’d love a taste.
It’s pure energy and it is all going to waste.
A sad state of affairs when no humans are around.
I really can’t get over how quiet the peaceful sound.
No roaring cars on the road with their bright lights.
It’s so much safer when I’m walking alone at nights.
I have always wondered where does this water all flow?  
One day I shall follow it, I’m quisitive you know.
Does this flow into a river, to a very large lake?
It’s a life changing moment, I know I should take.
As for now I’ll just stand here and admire the view.
I’ll pretend the wind is a human, like I’m talking to you.
Wait! Is that a human fishing down on the shore?
I must visit him, maybe he will tell me more.
I bet you he’s kind hearted and will toss me a fish.
I’ve yet to meet a mean human, I can only wish.
Now how do I get there? Well look there’s a trail.
I’m a kind thoughtful animal from my antlers to tail.
So this is what the humans call the mighty Niagara Falls.
A true sign of mother nature when she bids her calls.
A majestic beautiful true life drama to feel and see.
Now let’s head to that fisherman, hope he’ll be nice to me.

Source: Wayne Ritchie, 2023

At the time of submitting this poem, Wayne Ritchie was 73 years old and had been writing poetry and short stories for 60 years.