Posts Tagged ‘poetry-winner’

The Lake

By Seth Wycha (age 7)

On the weekends when I wake,
I like to see our local lake
with my mommy and my bike,
my little brother on his trike.
If I’m lucky, in the water
I might see a baby otter
or some birds in the trees
while I feel the gentle breeze.
There’s nothing like the water’s shine.
The lake – where lovely creatures live and dine.

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The Golden Rule

By Barb Abney

When what the world portends makes you blue,
To thine own lake be true.

COVID, war, work and school,
Can make your life seem less than cool.

Not to mention the price of fuel!
When it all seems just a little too cruel,

Remember Lucky’s Golden Rule –
To thine own lake be true.

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The Lucky Lake

By Michael Zahn

Lucky lake!
Our volunteers have made a vow
to help Cane cope
— right here, right now —
with Godzilla Hydrilla
(and Noxious Nitrate)
that choke and cloud,
make swimmers frown,
(could make our lake a burial ground).
But we stand fast
(swim even faster),
we swear that Cane
will shine, not fester.
In May each year,
hundreds race our Golden Mile.
They dread no depth,
they fear no reptile.
See the lively noisy splashy mob scene!
— as we raise cash to keep Cane clean.

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Frogman Nighttime 5k OPs

By Laura Cole

Frogman Nighttime 5k Ops
If you swim, you could be tops
Should you regard the feat amiss
The deepest dark liquid abyss

Water’s surface shimmering sheet
Know you not what lies beneath
But if you dare to take the challenge
‘Twixt faith and fear hold in the balance

When you emerge, what will you be?
Transformed into a frog maybe?
Some wretched form human or beast?
Or Salamander, the very least?

Come and swim it does entreat thee
But you fear, “It just may beat me!”
One thing is true, somehow you know…
This night, subdue your greatest foe!

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Life-giving Water

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

A whisper from stream’s rush
becomes booming, deeper truths,
shouted by a pounding surf

She never turned a deaf ear
to solar psalms and moon mantras:

In lack, excess;
in punishment, rewards;
in a threat (cancer), possibility.

The ocean holds the key to her survival;
sunlight dances on the promise of her future.

When the world forgets, she remembers-

The ocean is among the best medicines.

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.1

Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.2
She has both.

Notes
1 Isak Dinesen
2 W.H. Auden

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Drink in the Waters

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Drink in the Waters

Ubiquitous

bountiful bays
luminous lakes
nourishing narrows

clear, cool creeks
swift, shallow streams

Rushing rivers
carve colorful canyons from
roily rock

Rough rapids
refresh and renew;
foaming falls’
resolution
serene seas

Best medicines

© May 2019 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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First Lake Crossing

By Barbara Giles

Splashing bodies glide into the deep.
Face beneath the water. Pulse takes a leap.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Fingers graze an object! Swelling sense of dread.
Monsters under water? Or only in my head.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Red orb floating. I can make it there.
Reach the halfway point. Now I can take some air.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Back under the water. Mind under control.
Back under the water before the day takes its toll.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Middle of the lake. All alone out here.
Glancing to the distant shore. All I feel is fear.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Reaching finish dock. Kick the fears away.
Face towards the rising sun. Time to face the day.
Breathe.

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Water Seen

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Pastel hues of orange and yellow gently herald sunrise;
morning lifts its misty veil from water’s edge.

browns, blacks, whites
varying sizes and shapes
indigenous or immigrant
birds of a feather…
go their separate ways seeking delights that lie below the surface.

Heads and/or bodies submerge
surface somewhat satisfied

but one, unidentified caring heart
silently signals “There’s great eating over heeeere!”

their differences aside
they come together
to feed from the underwater abundance;
demonstrating there can be harmony among us.

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Flow

By Samia Diouri

I want flow like water,
Find my path of least resistance,
Recognition of my reflection in others,
In the ripples of consciousness,
Know my soul is a drop in the ocean,
And my love is a river,
My wounds are but canyons etched over time,
I let go and resign to the rain filled valleys,
And surrender to the divine.

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The Corona-cation Chronicles Day Thirty-six

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

There is calm in a rain
that keeps one still;
drizzle or deluge
off leaves drops spill.

And when the rain stops,
there’s calm there, too.
On a drip tip rests
a watery bijou.

My eyes are riveted
on this delicate balancing act;
calm in anticipation
of its longevity protract.

And just like that,
the droplet falls to the ground
where it does the most good
and in this my calm is most profound.

© June 2020 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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