River Banks

Most beauty is invested in bulk, the calming
river soaks. Grief dipped in hearty portion
whipping cat tails, passing boats.
None denies that the river never lies with
green rock eyes. A hand fills with a rock
a curse lets it fly. The river supplies
the continuous cry so none need fret. The drop
of a stone is in sense investing to forget.
The storms that rampage set waters in a
rage the river has a say in its emotion too
when people drown by dropping in on the
mud filled friend. The orecian waves three
limb fingers in a way cursing you.
How could such a thing go by with all grief
gets filled like a million drop tears
by, a clash screaming sky that is having
its grief moved down by more terrible
problems left over from night's million stars