That Old River Poem by Smoky Hoss
That Old River
We might all die of old age
before we get good at living;
too much life has been taken
not enough given -
Floating down that old river
never knowing where we are bound;
listen! to the mighty waters flow...
living has such a sweet-strange sound -
Touch the smooth river banks passing by
sometimes warm, sometimes cold;
and still, it all keeps right on moving
as we floating, can only watch and grow old -
Along the way we find
broken docks, and sunken boats;
all declaring, far too many hopes eagerly built
no longer float -
That old River of time
never stops;
washing away the hands (and minds)
of man-made clocks -
This is a very beautiful poem, from the first wonderful stanza, the poem invites contemplation and appreciation of the tone and style of the beautiful verse form. Time and life are also rivers, which invites the question, do we go with the flow, the path of least resistant, with mainstream ideas and acceptance, of what is? Or do we impose questions, about society, life and go against popular opinions; when morals and ethical issues are raised. When younger in the physical and metaphorical examples of this context, I liked to swim floods, the easy way is not always the right way. Read with appreciation Smoky.
Old Man River just keeps rolling, and will carry on rolling long after our demise. Great poem Smoky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 3:56:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I agree with Terrence. Absolutely beautiful poem. And so true.