Am I Still Crawling?

Here is an example of my writing in this prose poem...The journey of when things go wrong in relationships…The emotional aftermath of picking up the pieces and moving on…

Feel free to comment and share ideas if you feel any emotional connection to this piece...Thanks for reading!

Am I Still Crawling?

The beginning was

over before the start…

It was daunting how she could read

my reflection, in the still waters,

like the book of the stormy seas of my mind

It is said that “still waters run deep”

Is my soul’s estuary a shallow and barren desert?

With imperfections glaring?

Have the depths of my soul

reached for the lighted surface

only to evaporate into thin air?

Wanting to feel understood

is a reflection of my heart

and yet I feel the need

to harbor, savor… selfishly

dark, undiscoverable traits...

Am I, one heart only lying to my mind?

As if I was not whole?

Four separated distinct parts…

These hands adorn the quill of

the head, the heart, body and soul...

Without synchronicity,

am I only an illusion of wholeness?

After carefully considering

my reflections in the mirror of her eyes,

a panic fell like a dark fog

blocking the vision into the book of my mind

Backed up against the corner wall,

I felt like running from my mind made cage,

ball and chain in tow

in this realization of the moment...

If… “Am I ? ” ... is the question?

Four separated, detached pieces is the answer…

I’ve been fooling myself all the while

Walking

away seemed better

than running…

Crawling away

on my hands and knees

seemed unfair.…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Stormy Seas

Stormy Seas...a poem by Harlon Rivers

At times we feel trapped and stuck in a moment we cannot get out of…The feeling of lost hope and our struggle to fight off difficult times, feeling alone yet afraid to ask for help. 

A storm is raging on the frothy sea
Mountainous waves toss the vessel to and fro
The ravaging Nor'easter wind impales with a deafening blow
Raucous salty sheets of spray soak and dampen all around

A bucket bails the raged sloop
She moans and groans as she’s flung about
A sailor sails. A sailor endlessly bails
Alone in the perfect storm

Two oars are manned on the stormy seas
The halyard torn and ripped from mast
To row and bail is an impossible feat
It’s hard to tell when you’ve sprung a fateful leak

The captain mans the forlorn skiff
Traditions sink down with the ship
His furious soul laments life’s toil
As violent waves crash the gunnels hold

He screamed out loud, “My time has come!”
“My ship is sinking, her broken pieces will not be found!”
The rampart boat, well fortified yet built to fail
Plummets from hills of water pitifully tall

Cracks are leaking where the lurid light gets in
But so does the water, will drowning soon begin?
Lost hope floats the helpless, fearless one man crew
His soul now guides his ship

A vessel drifts lifeless on the empty calming sea
Nothing but it can be seen for miles of skies
The free board is deep the salty water high
Two apathetic oars both silent, is a lost soul inside?

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Memorizing the Dust Storm

"Memorizing the Dust Storm"....following your heart
no matter which way the wind is blowing.

A poem by Harlon Rivers 

Left behind, dazed and confused, fading memories of steps taken abate focus

Ambiguous blinding passage through the reeling dust storm

Bread crumbs left behind are meaningless subterfuge, as chronicled direction falters

Vanishing with the dust of the helter skelter reeling wind

All direction is lost, past tracks permanently erased like dust in the wind

The nebulous pathway left perplexing and undefined

There is no going back when all steps in all directions are either

forwards or backwards… yet all in a same unfamiliar direction

While navigating passageway through the blinding dust storm,

the traveler envisions sensations of wandering through obscurity

Crawling blindfolded through an ancient unknown labyrinth

Strictly running on the faith of natural instincts

Crossroads are passed in darkness in fleeting moments

Ignored without even the slightest inclination they existed 

Spontaneous instinctual recognition denied when grasped for direction…

Lost in a maze of fogged obscurity

Emotional thoughts dizzied and whirling

As if the mind’s broken compass needle

were spinning in a magnetic dust funnel

Rendered aswoon by the startling intermittent silence

Impaired by bewildered confusion

Vertigo sensations of disequilibrium

Stumbling, tripping, falling, bruised, exhausted and crawling

And yet lifted up by the spirit from within

The impassioned survivor's soul embraces the fervent unfinished life… 

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Introspective Thinking

 "Details of self-examination...Under the microscope of hope...Carefully probing...The imaging within the soul "

 

A Poem by © 2012 Harlon Rivers

Impossible journey

Introspection of life

Processed in the mirror

In search of self- guiding light

Details of self-examination

Under the microscope of hope

Carefully probing

Emotional imaging within the soul

A picture in implicit detail

Revelation of life

Anticipation of worthiness

Wholehearted dignity in sight

Depth of humility,

Honest deliberation

Of humanity inspires

A jury of its peers

In a moment of significance

One moment changes everything

Let impassioned soul’s conscience

be the conscious moment’s

lustrous guiding light

Introspective thinking

Is a soul's radiant white light

Illuminating transparent understanding

Evocative glowing  thoughts

Transcending all doubts hindsight

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

The Journey's Pathway to Healing

"The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step...When we know we need to do something imperative to our well being  and yet the angst of apprehension can be daunting and overwhelming."

 

Anxiety drips from the sky onto the dusty pathway ahead

like large raindrops from a passing ominous thunder cloud

compassionately abstaining its storm's wrath

The pathway is distinct and finite and yet temptation

to turn back overwhelms when fear and doubt

intersects with conscious reasoning

As each drop plummets from the crying sky

a small cloud of dust releases a puff of haziness

rising from mother earth’s grasp

Clouding the tentative vision of what lies ahead

on this long and unknown journey

Each step forward

is accompanied by an unsettling

sense of trepidation of the familiar and unfamiliar

Faith in belief in  unseen miracles,

must overcome  the murkiness of doubt
for the next step to be taken

The heart and soul are strong but the flesh is weak

Conventional wisdom predicates

that the human form is flawed, born to fail

Unseen energy of the winds of time

blow it’s dust and ashes

Infinitely about the universe

An unfinished life must discover

the strength of will to thrive

when adversity clouds passage

Just when defeat seems imminent

faith and hope must be embraced at all costs

It is said; “It’s darkest before the dawn”  

As our soul journeys,

the energy of spirit from within

manifests strength and courage from uncertainty

Illuminating understanding

that life’s purpose is incomplete

The time has come

when the reluctant inner child

must now summon the spirit

of the ancient Native American Warrior

from within his heart's blended blood

Surrendering the primordial medicine man’s

mistrust in ambiguity

Evolving into a  man of presence

Yielding to faith of the process,

Finding hopeful trust

in the unknown mysteries of modern medical science

Each step reluctantly taken,

yet each step is taken in a leap of faith

Their has not been growth in this life

without paying the price

Enduring sufferance

develops understanding, vigor, valor 

  

Inspiration of thought is found in knowing

The Bald Eagle adorns a healed broken wing

Her sacred spirit would not soar above yet again

without enduring pain, suffering through

the trials and tribulations of existence

before universal energy 

naturally mended her broken wing

The Bald Eagle’s splendor soars over the

the clouded dusty hazy trail below

The dust garnished melancholia sky

shall one day be lucid at last

Glistening vibrant blue

Sunny radiant heavens…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Dear Faceless Friend...

An unsent letter to a faceless friend I met on a public forum, but I'm not likely the only one to experience this modern times phenomena...

,

My Dearest Faceless Friend,

I’m writing this letter in the hopes you will understand why I needed to leave the public forum…I could take it or leave it,  either way you matter to me...it took along time to get here.  I feel guilty I couldn't tell you but would not lie to you…I just couldn't tell you everything, you just wouldn't want to know.  I feel like big brother compelled to protect your feelings.  We do that with people we love.

   

Did you go looking for me when I was conspicuous by my absence?   I didn’t disappear I was absent for your own good.    Like it or not that’s going to happen in modern life, people just disappear that we learned to love and only the traces of their soul are left behind in words on some abandoned forum avatar... the final lasting impression as memories fade into the dust on some screen .   Faceless souls become a piece of your life even though they may seem like a stranger in the cab.  They get in they get out often without saying a word in the moment...I’m sorry what you found there.   Traces of you.    I’m trying to take your hand and lead you away from past darkness to be able to move on with life.    It feels like I did the very opposite.

“How can I warn you when my tongue turns to dust?
Like we've discussed
It doesn't mean that I don't care
It means I'm partially there
You're gonna need to be patient with me”

(lyrics from a Wilco song..."please be patient with me")

Believe me when I tell you that I know you need a friend.   So do I… That’s why we return to this special place of ours.   We were not born to be alone and when we are it eats away from the inside out leaving only hollow remains, a shell of who we once were when we were loved.   I don’t trust public forums either.   I feel a ball and chain to the words from hell that I tried to leave behind.  I have to see it through though, but wish I never started it.  I didn’t know what to do, just go away or avoid telling you..  I felt called out by a response.   I hope I was not confrontational in what I wrote in reply.   Sometimes I just get started and can’t stop as you can clearly see.

I have searched for my life's meaning since its beginning.   Something makes me write what I've written for reasons I do not yet understand.   Interact with people I do not even know.   I didn't want to respond again to that topic I started, I just zoned out and there was no other way to get it off my mind.   The things I've done this past month have been a leap of faith that I'm hopeful they will lead me to a better place.   I am what I am and I accepted that fact along time ago.  The thing is, I am stubbornly strong, physically and mentally.   My heart and soul just work differently than most people. Highly sensitive beings are like that.   We are what we eat.   Please don't feel sad for me.  You need your energy for you and your family.   Thanks for all your thoughts and compassion.   I am listening to a song at this moment that feels like it was written about me…

What am I going to do with you?  You’re so much more than you know.   I’m thankful for your final letter.   I feel the same way...I'll never grow older either, at least in my mind.   You feel you can’t write anymore and I feel your feeling rusty is all.   I feel clumsy as well.   “This letter is very self involved”   I don’t want it any other way because there's no other way you'll understand.    I treasure the writing you have shared.   I treasure every word you wrote to me.    Take a deep breath.   I’m going to attach something you that I hope in time you’ll be able to give a listen.   I don’t want to overwhelm you.  I won’t forget. .maybe you'll write again one day and we’ll talk about it later. It’s okay to let me see a frown.   Let’s work on turning it back to a smile together, then you can leave me where you found me...   Just know that if we never speak again that I believe in this simple truism...Love is not a protective cage, but the gifts of wings that allow another to fly free…

All said with love,

Your faceless memory

Doubters versus Believers

Sometimes a first step starts a journey of 10,000 steps...It can be logical to question…doubt. But sooner or later moments of motion transcend fear within doubt, liberating belief in our actions…

a poem by Harlon Rivers

"Doubters" and "Believers" are polar opposites,

like North is of South

Yet there is a little of both East and West in everyone

The protagonist versus the antagonists, a stalemate of the middle,

neutralizing fire and ice into water

Doubt fosters uncertainty and disbelief darkening optimism

of hopeful illumination of brighter pathways.

Belief in humanity cultivates faith into new beginnings, 
brighter moments, hopeful tomorrows. 
Finding inner peace and balance awakens devotion to hope.

Fidelity of unseen gravity is grounding

Trust is found through sincerity,  authenticity,  and yet

doubters hazy indistinctness muddles the enlightenment

of confidence that the long and twisting road

does not come to a dead end

just around the unseen bend in the pathway

Significance of ideals can not be discovered 

until insignificance renders us into 

an egoless thought of a speck of dust 

As the volcanic flow of significance in thought immerges

from the dust,   it builds the doubters dome into belief

as if seeing becomes believing transforming ambiguity

into definable reflections of faith in love.

Nothing is inevitable except to know the circle of life is a circle.

There is likely only one complete,  complex journey around  

and only we can choose which crossroad to turn upon.

To dream of doubt concludes the final dead end corner.

To be a dream believer cultivates eternal faith in hope...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers