The River None Believe by John B. Lee

I think of the Niagara
and if I say
“the river it seems remembers nothing”
and you might say
“What?” you might say “are you crazy?”
and if I say
“well, the War of 1812 was fought here
from mouth to source
and it was
the worst conflict, the most violent
ever fought by Europeans
right here on Canadian soil…
not as ‘remember the Alamo’
but as ‘remember Lundy’s Lane'”
the heat of battle
to the death–the worst in North America
until the Civil War
yet if you travel now
to the sight
it’s like hardening of the arteries
of history
it’s carnival traffic, tarmac
and the roar of a frothy falls
full of whisky barrel values
like empty thread spools
dangling from a mad tailor
and all you see
is Blondin on his tight rope
over the rapids
not the red wind
of a single crimson night
how many summers ago
and gone
and if I say
“go to the heights above Burlington Bay
and listen for those headless ghosts
of eight men hanged
go to Queenston
and watch the far banks
for the bad boats
go to Newark/Niagara
and look for the conflagration
listen for the hiss of torches
and the crash of blackened rafters
go to little St. David’s
ride there on a dead horse
trample the vineyards
watch for the wine stain
in the blight of fire and ink
and if by
the echo of a wet rock
if by the strangled cry
of some turning eddy
foaming round in eternal rubble
wearing the shape of the flow
perilous enough
to the jarred heel
to spin a man’s craft
and crack his memory loose
as quick as a war club will
and if I look
to this land
and see
how a man is missed
as if he were never there
how his shape might drop away
like a walker in the fog
some phantom colour fading in the mist
with a ragged twin
of someone watching from the other way
what of this
this earth that holds us
this deeper gravity
this float of stones
these stories
dead tongues tell?

Source: The Author, 2001.

John B. Lee. From In the Terrible Weather of Guns [manuscript]

Niagara Falls by John Robert Colombo

(a found poem from the unpublished writings of Bishop John Strachan)

sublime niagara falls — Bishop John Strachan

My brother, after some hesitation,
ventured down the precipice;
and, having reached the bed
of the river below,
we were well rewarded.
It was now
that my expectations were realized:
the height of the rock —
the thundering of the Fall —
the spray forming in rain-bows —
the vast volume of water
rolling over the impending precipice,
produced a sensation overpoweringly
sublime.

Source: Colombo, John Robert; and Strachan, John. John Toronto: New Poems by Dr. Strachan Found by John Robert Colombo. [Ottawa] : Oberon Press, 1969.

From the dust jacket: The poems are taken verbatim from Strachan’s uncollected writings. They are poems by virtue of the special character of their eloquence. They are new in that they speak with fresh urgency and directness to a new age.

Click here to see a biography of Bishop Strachan from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography

WHAT GOES UP WILL ALWAYS COME DOWN by Shelby Forrest

Though Viagra and Niagara may sound the same,
Not alike are the meanings at all.
To some, Viagra means ‘on the rise,’
But to everyone, Niagara Falls.

Source: The Author, 2001.

[Father Louis Hennepin] by Captain Flynn

Straight up Frontenac’s Northmost side
Ever a West he sailed,
Crossing in blessed Advent tide,
Landing on great Niagara’s shore.
South he turned to a sullen roar;
His Crucifix on his heart he bore;
Never his spirit failed.

Now Glory to God, whose hand did forge
This wondrous watery road!
On ragged rim of the fearful gorge
South he toiled through brambles and moss,
Past rapids roaring like souls atoss.
He blessed himself with the sign of the Cross
At the cliff where the torrent flowed.

His little altar was quick untied;
Small waxen tapers alight,
He said the Mass of the Sanctified.
Turning South through the wintry haze,
His eyes aglow, his heart ablaze,
At Chippawa’s flow, with a song of praise,
He made his camp for the night.

Source: Ray Corry Bond. Peninsula Village: The Story of Chippawa. Chippawa: [s.n.], 1964.

AGUJERO DEL DIABLO (Cataratas del Niágara) by Margarita Feliciano

        Las hierbas mustias rompen su crisálide,
        sus verdes apagados brillan entre las rocas,
    aún se oye en el viento el aullido del hielo.
                          Las aguas allá abajo
                vertiginosas giran sus despojos,
           mientras la niebla asciende
           hacia la desmemoria del tren funicular,
        aumentando el latido de cables temblorosos
                      que avanzan hacia el fin
                        de un cielo ceniciento.

                          Y así y todo, algún día,
        habrá también narcisos y otras flores
                          en este triste sitio;
               flores ajenas a mi vida de antes
             cuando el río indecible
                     fluíacon suavidad en la miel de su sueño.

        Y a través de los años retornaré a este sitio,
        siempre vendré luciendo una sonrisa
                       -diminuta y modesta-
                       esculpida en mis labios
                       cual signo de pregunta

Source: The Author, 2001

Tag: poems

The River None Believe by John B. Lee

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Niagara Falls by John Robert Colombo

(a found poem from the unpublished writings of Bishop John Strachan)

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WHAT GOES UP WILL ALWAYS COME DOWN by Shelby Forrest

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[Father Louis Hennepin] by Captain Flynn

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AGUJERO DEL DIABLO (Cataratas del Niágara) by Margarita Feliciano

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(a found poem from the unpublished writings of Bishop John Strachan)

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