They say the River rages <br />like the finger turns pages <br />some may find that the <br />babbling brooks babble on like <br />battling books of Babylon- the River <br />is the living legend- the personification <br />of dreams unfulfilled, like the glass <br />that is half-empty or half-full <br />I pull upon the heart strings to <br />remind you that the River is a life <br />force like Jedi knights and episodes on <br />E.R. - we are sitting inside and beside the <br />cradle of civilization- this realization of <br />dreams that have been deferred, dreams <br />that are deferred, dreams that are sincere <br />and flow endlessly like the River-the <br />giver of poetic inspiration, that sliver <br />of perspiration on the forehead <br />there is more said about nothing than <br />anyone can stand; on one hand that could <br />be the best thing like listening to the <br />robin with the red breast sing about tadpoles <br />that become frogs, the little fish that get <br />eaten by the bigger fish, and the humans that <br />catch the bigger fish for sport- there is no <br />support to stop the pollution of the River, there <br />has to be a solution to heal the giver of poetic <br />interjections<br /><br />Gregory Pickett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/river-7/
