Impatient Waters

Twisting, swirling,

spraying, curling.

Our swollen stream speeding,

through the rushes

past the bushes.

Where oh where is it leading?


Through the village;

floods from spillage.

Sweeping headstrong and free.

Ever south it goes,

On it flows,

Impatient to enter the sea.


  1. Phil

    Your few words capture the essence of the scene you’re depicting. And it rhymes, so it’s a proper poem!

    • Lynne

      Thank you, Phil. I know you prefer the rhyming poetry. Some subjects suit that form and others create more emotion without rhyme.


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