Watching Rhine

The Stinking Water River was renamed the Shoshoni River when Cody, Wyoming was recruiting settlers a century ago. Very recent history by Rhine standards.

River personified
Glorified too
I enjoyed the languid
Peace of the Rhine
The contrast to
A putrid upstart
In Wyoming

Featuring this on Gather Essentials: Writing.

Thanks for contributing, John.

This takes me back to memories of strolling along the banks of the Swan River in West Oz and having similar thoughts, John. It goes to show that this is a universal experience.

John ... I like the solid feel of this, as though the writer could easily hold the world up upon its shoulders. He also posses a certain knowing as though history girds his loins.

Your lines:

"who wept and died
into this stream without
having gotten it all said."

I chuckle for we never get it all said do we?

This, John was a good read. Thank you.

I grew up where the Passamequoddy salt river met the fresh Penobscot river. I am told that that is brine water. I do know that odd sorts of wild life choose the changing of seasoning; sometimes more salt than fresh or fresh than salt. No poet in angst threw themselves into our Head of Tide. Nor did goofly looking intellectuals look for a quiet spot to view the world through the curtain of great thinkers. Just us Maine kids. Sliding like otters down the clay banks. And looking for the iron rings that the flatboats tied up to, a long long time ago, when settling the the outlands around a town that would be the only Belfast in the United States. A place for the Rogue Scots Irish to plant their view with no one's curtain to shade their personal truths. Rivers are stories upon stories. I used to ride my horse singing Ole' Man River and we would dance when we got to 'tote that barge lift that bale, get a little drunk and land in jail' I like this piece John Beck. As you see, it brings about a few thoughts and memories.

Strange as I was reading this and then Peg's comment, I thought about the Yukon, the gold seekers and Jack London. If a river could speak, imagine what it would say?

Amazing picture of Basel, with information about the Shoshone I did not know. Very strong poem, John.

getting it all said may only be part of the slip which the stream presents
getting enough said and getting it said just so can be just as slippery
yet, you seem to get-along just-fine JB and
with a sure-footed step too

Glad to see you all, sorry I've so little time here currently.
River's a tremendous image, as you've noted. I appreciate your widening the view.
Basel is also where Switzerland meets France and Germany. A hot lookout in the Great War.

Yes, Basel for all its enthusiastic and outspoken youth population evokes a sad finger-pointing at the past, which not much of Switzerland does, in its pure and insistent isolation. Well done.

Civilization - the capture of a slow curve in a river. Wordsworth standing on Westminster Bridge comes to mind. I think of the Thames, the Tiber. The concrete banks; how the human story has been played out on their bridges and their flanks.
A fine meditation.

The contentment of civilization against the rough-and-ready, cold, big and dangerous wildness of the Mississippi frontier is a beautiful contemplation. I think the "lingering fragrance of much more serious poets," is such a strong evocation of the damp muskiness you sense at waters edge, whether from the earth or the dirty concrete banks. Nice to read another of your "Swiss" pieces.

Sarah, Mike, Tom - thanks for your reflections.

John, can you tell me a little more about that beautiful image at the bottom of the poem - I forgot to ask, before.

A solid piece and a strong reflection of the Rhine, which I've floated down a few times. I enjoyed this poem, John.

I enjoyed this and the mention of the Rhine and Basel. I got married in Basel in 1978 and took several Rhine cruises during my 12 years of living in Germany.

This certainly brought about nice memories.

Elizabeth E. I loved the stories of the Yukon, the Gold rush and even as a young child, identified with Jack London. When I read that he only wrote to survive, that gave me hope. In Ole' Man River, I love the line, "You must know somethin' cause you just keep rollin along." I also have the need to 'feel' the stories of history, knowing that the memories are somehow still there, and still affect us as we all 'keep rollin' along'

Oh, I've been suffering from John Beck Poetry Withdrawel, I can see that now after this feast of a river from you.

I remember the Rhine in all its March swiftness. Your words bring it all back, the magnificience.

Magi, the image is a standard shot of the Rhine running through Basel photoshopped up to look more nocturnal and mysterious. ;-]

Faith, Esther, thank you. Peg, I'd somehow not thought of "Ole Man River," which was fortunate at least when I was writing it or this would have been very different!

Barbary, water traveler, thank you!

My goodness John ... what a core your theme of 'river' touched. Even the comments have the fragrance of poetry. In fact, I never realized it but something about water; a pond, creek, river or ocean is like flowing poetry in a persons being.
Not trying to be dramatic but listening to them; thinking back on my memories; hearing the words of my children and grandchildren ... There really is something about even the tiniest trickle of a spring that sprouts anticipation or something.

I loved the poem. My favorite thought was also
"...serious poets
who wept and died
into this stream without
having gotten it all said."

Glome, thank you kindly. Perhaps you have a river to write about?

I was in Basel in the mid 70's and remember the etchings on the buildings and the most unusual peaceful quiet in this city.
You talk of cemented embrace and I can think of 3 metaphor. One the actual large oddly shaped cement blocks often put on the shoreline to stop erosion; the actual built up city surrounding the river; the culture of generations who have lived next to this river.
Yes, this river is badly polluted and the poems and songs from yesteryear's poets helps the river retain its charm or fragrance.
Things have changed. the old spirit has given way to funny hats and general apathy. At least I believe that is your visage in the mellowness of autumnal age.

William, thank you for the thoughtful read. On the last count, I wasn't promoting the point, but yes, Europe today cannot imagine itself as a world leader. Given how much they learned from the disasters, I would hope that would change.

Oh I like this John!

//...a red bag of no doubt books...//

Oh, yes.

Once awhile ago so sure
no doubt
a writer of books
Now, and Here,
some doubts after all...
writer, yes -
books?
May be.

Thanks tb, CG.
Books? Me? Yeah,
it's a commitment.

nicely done

John, I read this days and days ago, but still haven't tied down my reaction to it. I will....

Pris, Denise, thank you.
Susan, I look forward to your reaction(s).
You perhaps are noticing undercurrents? ;-]

Amazing lines, John. Civilazation takes away the sensitivity of a poet, sometimes. You have created a poem of such contemplation that I am tempted to read it again and again.

Thank you, Minakshi!

John, I like how you have humanized the too-civilized river. Very evocative.

Very enjoyable portrait of a river and the musings it inspires.

I've been rereading your poetry. I had forgotten what I'd written. But what I thought about ... & even went back and reread with this image in mind ... was a video with the poem being read and just shadow for people. You on a bench looking across the river and maybe shadows on a bridge looking over the water fading out & being replaced with other shadows. Poets, famlies, children, lover etc. It's a good poem.

Glome, thank you, interesting image this gave you.

Fascinating reflection. Loved this.

The meandering, contemplative tone set
at the beginning , gifting the potential
for some thoughtful consciousness
as well to the river, had me easily
fusing into your words and related
water worlds. The currents of the
rivers’ placements are varied and
suggestively endowed with objectified
emotive textures. The authored voice
feels distanced from them all, but trying
to create relationship……perhaps also having
changed course many times over the years.

The rivers are tried on almost like costumes-
The graceful, “civilized” curvature of the Rhine
feeling romanticized and inspiring as imagination
grasps darkening mood and time close and
embraces Spirit tied closely to writers
and books past and passed through the beauty,
vitality and challenged senses here.

The contrasting relationship
With childhood “currents’ does not carry the
same warm glow and the language reverts to a
casual rural slang as thoughts meander
back through cold and overwhelming
resistance.


The questioned “civilization” is prompted
as an abstract source of relaxed “transporting”
to slow, quiet, sparkled escape, which feels
admired, but unattainable. The primal
loneliness that finds solace in the
“lingering fragrance” of tears and deaths
of admired and “superior” poets, accents
the remote heart attentions that carry through
this pictorial poem. The naivete and minimized
view of self worth closes the last stanza
with a sidecast glance to the passionately red bag
that is the last notation of the contemplation
and the day. I feel a soul touring its own
flow in this, having not yet found the waters
that will carry him “home” to that missing place
that he seeks from outer reference and studied
scenery. The inner landscape feels to be reactive
and the creative force just going with the flow
for a transitory circulation through navigable
waters.

This is stimulating and unnerving - I will have my toes in the
edges of all of these pathways to heart while I sleep tonight,
remembering the Allegheny of my romantic youth where
I got my first great kiss….watching the Westinghouse
Sign challenge reflections with infinite possibilities
of the sequences of “W’s”. All the while, the bottom
filled with rusting appliances and men attaining their last jump
from one of many bridges to the depths.

Laura, what a comment... You tune in so well and so deep. I hope this did aid your travels, as you say, in your sleep. They changed "Stinking Water" to Shoshone for the sake of the tourists, by the way. It was a good sulfurous mineral stink.

Water is such a powerful symbol of change, rebirth and renewal, but also of regret. How many have cried by the river's edge?

A wonderful poem, John.

Along the whole Rhine, very many have wept, no doubt. Thanks, JM.

Magnificent piece John! I got swallowed up in the imagery and thought I was there for the moment.