Poetry of and about Niagara Falls & the Niagara River – the waterfalls, the city, the history, the stunters, and everything else Niagara
(a children’s poem)
Wild white water is
Boil, cascade
Roil, cannonade
Crash, flume
Splash, spume
Drench, glide
Stench, slide
Gush, leap
Rush, sweep
Lunge, pollution
Plunge, solution
Outpour, overflow
Uproar, undertow
Turbulence, spray
Violence, ricochet
Stream, swirl
Steam, whirl
Penned power
Source: The Author, 2001.
friday fireworks
(a children’s poem)
Each Friday night, fireworks
Light the Falls and the park,
All through the summer months,
After ten, when it’s dark.
As we weave through the crowd
And descend on Clifton Hill,
The traffic is noisy,
Tourists’ voices are shrill.
We stop at the corner
Till the light turns from red;
Hike past the lily pond,
Skirt a long flower bed.
A battery of blasts,
An explosion of stars,
Greet the thrilling throng
Mid massed buses and cars.
There are loud OH!s and AH!s —
Children’s cries of delight;
As huge flaming flowers,
Bloom above in the night.
Gold and silver sparks shoot —
Reds… blues… dart at angles,
Then shower the gorge with
A riot of spangles.
One last bang! The show ends!
There’s applause, a wild cheer,
Then a child’s voice exclaims,
The best fireworks this year!
Source: The author, 2002.
Has aught like this descended, since the fountains
Of the Great Deep broke up, in cataracts hurled
And climbing lofty hills, eternal mountains,
Poured wave on wave above a buried world?
Yon tides are raging, as when storms have striven,
And the vexed seas, awaking from their sleep,
Are rough with foam, and Neptune’s flocks are driven
In myriads o’er the green and azure deep.
Ere yet they fall, mark (where that mighty current
Comes like an army from its mountain home)
How fiercely yon wild steeds amid the torrent,
With their dark flanks, and manes and crests of foam,
Speed to their doom – yet in the awful centre,
Where the wild waves rush madliest to the steep,
Just ere that white unfathomed gulf they enter,
Rear back in horror from the headlong leap;
Continue reading “Niagara by Henry Howard Brownell”
Someone once told me, ‘seeing is believing’,
How pertinent that was, I found after exploring,
This artwork of nature, beauty sprinkled everywhere,
The raging river, the fretted fall, the magical mist, that I wish to share.
The white foamy flow,
the mighty wind that blows,
The sunshine is golden,
surely I can say, my heart is stolen!
The rainbow that joins, the heaven to this earth,
The beauty I feel, is in no way dearth,
So much of joy, so much of pleasure,
This lovely sight does have to offer.
The ‘maid of the mist’, lets you meet it face to face,
The gusts, the downdrafts, can’t help but blaze,
‘Journey behind the falls’, leaves you dazed,
With the beauty, enigma and the amazing grace
The gush of water, is though fierce and harsh,
falling down with so much of splash!
But as it descends, the resplendence is endless,
Down as it reaches, it turns into an angel!
This is the moral, it bestows upon us,
Whatever pinnacle we may achieve, let us not lose our humility!
Copyright @ Rakhi
Source: Haryana Online, 2004
They honeymoon in Canada
to see Niagara Falls.
She’s young, and he is very old,
but oh, Viagra calls!
A single night of nuptial bliss
these newlyweds will face.
The pills work well—but truth to tell,
his old heart can’t keep pace.
Niagara Falls: Viagra calls
for just a little while;
a widow for a newlywed,
a dead groom with a smile.
She cashes the insurance check
and goes back to St. Paul;
she thanks the Lord for Viagra
and for Niagara Falls!
© 2001 Larry Pace
Source: The author, 2001