A Lifetime of Dreams

Is it loneliness and desperation that creates the desire to be held in a lover's grasp…unconditionally… eternally?    Dreaming of the need of surrendering completely to love is love...There is no greater force.   

A poem by Harlon Rivers

My heart beats so loudly within my quivering chest

I look around to see if anyone else

notices the apparent body tremors

Their deafening sound over powers my emotions

A tempest of overwhelming loneliness

floods altered consciousness

I feel the earth moving beneath

the polished cut stone floor

Nervous tension is exhaled as a sigh

into the candlelit, perfume scented air

So thick you could cut it with a knife.

It seems as though the wine in my glass

moves mystically like the storming seas

as the glass stands untouched on the table.

Out of the corner of my glancing eyes,

lovers have embraced across the room

after a romantic passionate slow dance.

I did not look away

I feel visibly shaken and ashamed

for dreaming about their ardent moment

Sensuality awakened, raw yearning totally exposed,

my vulnerable demure is naked

and yet reserved, shamelessly hungry

for love’s enchanting fusion

The trap was set and tripped

the voyeur the only victim uncovered

spellbound on the threshold of a my silent reverie

Lonely, feeling trapped,

awaiting the final merciful surrender to love…

“Oh love, your past memory leads me on

Set me free from the lingering seasons that haunt me

Unchain my unhealed heart

Heal the scars from the ties that bound me

Allow me to come alive again and drink from love’s cup.

Take me to your secret garden

Reveal,  sincerely,  your most intimate secrets

Inhale every breath of my heart and soul

Complete me… allowing us to thrive wholeheartedly,
abundantly living,  each and every precious moment spent together”…

Is it too much to dream to desire to be held infinitely?

As if there was no other soul to love in the universe?

Is it desperation that creates the desire

to be held in your lover's grasp?

…unconditionally… eternally

I will sacrifice all that is me

I will surrender a lifetime of dreams

To walk hand and hand

these final miles as one love…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Blood Out of A Stone

He knew he would never suffer from the madness they perceive...It’s easy to look the other way when you’re blinded by what you see...while crawling, with eyes wide open, through a world of make believe...

A poem by Harlon Rivers

What is the song that the moon sings?

In the silence of the night

Is it the sound of a heart breaking?

Or the mournful moanings 

from a disregarded shadow,

standing down on bended knees, 
Alone...

No one ever thought they would hear

a shadow screaming 

at the moonlit night!

No one gave it a second thought...

Never bothered to ponder

the unknown reasons for the thoughts.

He knew he would never suffer

from the madness they perceive

It’s easy to look the other way

when you’re blinded by what you see

while crawling, eyes barely open, 

through a world of make believe.

I don’t disrespect honest disbelief,

when the flame burns brilliantly high.

Awakening revelations rise like heat

An impossible unseen illusion

for those who block 

their own light

Just a dormant inconvenience  

waiting for the whole thing to blow apart

A subtle unnoticed interruption 

Immerging from the vanishing shadows

A free spirited soul life filled with love...

Perpetuating blood out of a stone

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Insomniac Dreams

Scantily scattered moonlight filtered through the canopy of broken clouds and leaves... Moon beams strewn sloppily onto the midnight floor as blurred sleepless eyes scan the shadowed field through the bars of the big brass bed.

A poem by Harlon Rivers

Scantily scattered moonlight

filtered through the canopy

of broken clouds and leaves

Moon beams strewn sloppily

onto the midnight wooden floor

as blurred sleepless eyes scan

the shadowed field through the bars

of the big brass bed.

Opened window's fragrant air 

chills to the bone

serving a cold reminder

that now is here.

The frogs croak so boisterously,

through the open window,

their annoying echo disturbs 

the peaceful serenity 

of the stone cold silence 

from the dimly lit night.  

They echo the sounds 

of insomnia… 

Scenes play out 

across the satin 

clad feather pillows 

as if some old drive-in 

movie projector re-ran 

the same reel over and over 

onto the giant screen's 

dreamscape in my mind.

Tossing and turning 

as each new scene fades.

Those scratches on that 

favorite record with 

tattered and frayed cover 

from a distant memory 

Imperfections make the song skip 

in the exact spot each time 

the player replays 

Lost moments ruminate 

as the record spins 

Projecting the picture onto 

the pillowed screen’s 

silky thread count 

Convoluted dreams seen 

through the blinking dark circled 

exhausted minds eyes 

Only in insomniac lucid dreams 

does silent reverie evolve 

into tortuous nightmares 

Never silencing the croaking frogs,

subtle yet raucous reminder,

that soon dawn will arrive 

The cockaded crow's "caw" " cawing" 

laughs haughtily at the orange sunrise 

ending another loathsome 

sleepless night 

alone...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Coyote Moon

The sultry summer midnight hour came and went as the full moon's illumination magnified the sun scorched fields of forevermore...a Coyote Moon chapter by Harlon Rivers

The sultry summer midnight hour

came and went as the full moon's illumination 
magnified the sun scorched fields of forevermore.

The air was so thick,

through the waist high brambles,

that you could cut it with the Kaiser Blade.

It's a burdensome task to carry that weight,

but the ancient tool was adorned 

with an old Tatanka leather shoulder sling.

It was willingly carried, by the native warrior, to defend the passage

against the prickles of the barbed cane’s shield.

This place where subsistence and survival are plucked

from the thorny sweetbriars of humble existence.

The shadowed, exiled silhouette staggered

into the edge of the vast amber wheat field.

A cloud of unsettled dust rose like a twisting dirt devil, 
in the wake of fluid movement,

as the traces of foot steps quietly crackled in the dry grass.
Coyote was going there...

The woven willow satchel overflowed with a fragrant sweetness 

The damp Bota bag moistened 
the wanderer's parched gritty cotton mouth,

coughing as the powdery earth moved the stagnant air

barely stirring, ever so slightly from the startling motion.

The figure’s unaccompanied shadow stumbled

stopping to rest on the lone flat rock

enlightened by the glimmering moon light.

All of the panorama’s inhabitants

hushed their free spirited chatter. 
Immediately sensing healing energy,

becoming undetectable, soundless listeners.

Instantly silenced by the sound vibration

of the intruders clumsy movement.

Moments passed in stillness

as a shooting star’s tailing, fading shimmer, flickered

like that final moment when the boisterous crack

of the last thunder clap's clamor  
decays into total eerie dark silence.

The only audible sound

was that of dusty lungs rattling and wheezing

as if death were near,

and yet it was only a mind made, 
self-conscious audio illusion.

The exhausted intruder labored

to breathe the hazy night air 

in the humid, sweaty stillness.

The beat of his unraveling heart

thundered in his chest without fear.

Eyes of a soul were mesmerized

by a halo around the moon

evolving from the radiant

swirling moon dust of a solar tempest.

Constellations glowing effervescence

illuminated the silhouette within the shadows.

Firefly's transcend, disappearing into a starlit oasis 

The aura of the spirit of the Coyote Moon

had symbolic crescent shaped ears,

able to hear and comprehend every ethereal 
wordless sigh breathed.

Inaudible thoughts and sounds 
echoed mystically in silent dreams.

The essence of every exhaled breath

of emotional release, coherently revealed

a wholehearted awakening life, 
in route to vivid understanding. 

Taking ownership of choices 
made on life's journey’s path followed 

brought relief from sufferance 
in search of peaceful solitude. 
The defining instance lingered

in a final moment of merciful surrender. 

No longer fighting unnatural forces,
emotions were absolved into the universe.
All purpose is awakening into the present moment.
Set free like dust dissipated by the wind

The reality of the cost of the toll paid

by a lost and forgotten soul, 
enduring man made stigmas, 
rooted delusions of missing earthly time served. 

Never surrendering to self fulfilled prophecy, 
the release of poignant emotional energy 
into the sultry surreal air, heightened awareness.

The ethereal energy brought the dramatic howling Coyote to his feet! 
Breaking silence... celebrating his nocturnal freedom 
with the man in the moon...
The sounds of silence came alive...
Yip yip Awoooh...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Dreaming Out Loud

Peaceful silence is exhaled in a sigh of unspoken sorrow...

Peaceful silence is exhaled

in a sigh of unspoken sorrow

Just a step away from love

Surrendering to unspoken thoughts

of a vanishing enchantment

 Dreaming out loud for the asking

Trying to bring back tomorrow

before the vivid dream

of dust to diamonds

no longer shines

Ungrounded surrender yields

to wanderlust tomorrows

Time won’t stand still to opine

While a rolling stone gathers no moss
rolling on through time

Love 's unearthed and nurtured significance
 buds in the garden of the heart and soul

Hope's blooms are rooted deeply within

the inner core of new beginnings

The spirit within our soul won't stand still

and watch the heart unravel

In the midst of quiet hesitation

Bewildered by over anxious, 
unrealistic emotional expectations

while dreaming recklessly out loud

about blossoming new beginnings,

Frustration left me awake and stranded in the dawn...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

"She"

"She"... has never been written about in this way

 before this moment...a chapter from "Other Rooms" 

A romantic poem by Harlon Rivers

She was the girl who held the subtle charms 

of her Scottish Highland heritage

Her heirloom smile turned every head 

with her evocative magnetic demure

She graced amazing moments 

stealing hearts and minds 

with a single enchanted glance

She gracefully sashayed barefooted across 

the red clover carpet of her English Garden , 

with the sweet angelic aura 

of a free spirited mystical goddess….

Gliding with the elegant grace of a Swallowtail Butterfly 

Skipping elegantly from flower to flower 

gathering the sweet nectar of life.

  

She wore her favorite white handmade cotton dress 

she had artistically ador ned

with ornate delicately crocheted crimson roses

Decorated endearingly with cross stitch and needle work

 embroidery highlights  

Her flowing waist length strawberry blonde locks 

hid the small jeweled red leather belt

highlighting her tiny waist and breathtaking natural  femininity 

Her antique ruby glass beaded necklace 

glistened in the star lit evening’s glow

Reflecting the moon beam’s pearlescent illumination

Dazzling the natural charms of her emerald green eyes

showcasing the alluring beauty of an angel on earth

Her classically beautiful,  

natural peaches and cream complexion

was enhanced by the youthful charm 

of a few random sun freckled imperfections

The only possible, irrelevant yet self conscious, 

blemish to the perfect fragrant rose

Her checks flushed when our eyes met for the first time

blushing as she covered her reserved shyness 

with her tiny delicate hand

Feeling the arousal of our emotional connected energy

ignite the electric midnight air

Her modesty embellished her dimpled smile, 

hypnotizing his thirsty, starving soul

An effervescent halo glowed

as it hovered over the fragrant flowers in her hair

She was the most beautiful flower 

in her English Garden of Eden

And yet she saw herself as a plain and humble free spirit

Empowered by the gifts of compassionate, 

empathetic understanding

The spirituality of love was interwoven

 and passionately interlaced within the very intricate  threads

of this delicate woman’s tapestry epitomizes heart and soul

She only wanted to dance on moon beams;  

to dream of catching falling stars

All the while, whispering breezes blew 

the traces of stardust with a whoosh

Casting an irreversible spell 

of eternal unconditional love

The kind of love written about tirelessly 

since the beginning of life

Eternal love knows no beginning, there is no end;

only glimpses of its splendor 

have ever been shared by mortal beings.

She was the answer to his prayers

He, the prince of her Cinderella dreams 

She was his unlikely heroine fairy tale princess

For she was born destined to be the angel of mercy,

 enriching his heaven's skies, 

as he remained rooted into the bedrock 

of his ancestors’ terrestrial ashes and dust

In a moment of glee, in a twist of fate, 

two souls became one euphoric dream

Rescuing him from the fields of a cold world, 

during the wrath of a perfect storm;

she nurtured his malnourished and neglected soul,

 drying his tearful eyes as she helped him

heal his broken heart, teaching him to love again

She mended his broken wing 

and taught him to fly with the wind

She blessed him with a progeny 

of his ancient spirit's realm

A  Gaelic descendant of her poignant charm 

with a resilience that would take his breath away

It was unnatural for such a beautiful bird

to be anything but free.

In the aftermath of an epiphany,

he could no longer impede the magnitude 

of her love’s free spirit's shine

"Fly away if you must my sweet angel "

...he whispered, lovingly letting go of her hand

with a final liberating cry ~

Blind faith and hope fostered 

the courage to set love free

In the silence of the waning light

the possibility of their final moments together

 faded into the night

The only sound heard in the abandoned silence

were sighs too deep for words…

Written by Harlon Rivers....8/17/2012

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

The Minstrel of the Blue Moon

A Poem by Harlon Rivers

Penned on watermarked cotton paper, cursive letters script the words... Writing a song of love... 

Apollo and Daphne...John William Waterhouse

The Minstrel of the Blue Moon

Penned on watermarked cotton paper

cursive letters script the words

of a surrendering rhythmic rhyme

The ardent sonata was written

by the light of a Blue Moon’s shine

The blood red ink bled 

through the white wrinkled cotton pages

Musical notes dried by moon beams

in the subtle pollination breeze...

The maestro Coyote’s howl cried instinctively, 

eerily heard from the distance 

bringing lovers to their knees.

The words to the Cabernet Sauvignon

stained midnight  lullaby

were emotions quilled,

blending an aura of 

organic colors...

The native maple trees 

flowering canopy of spring

released dusty yellow pollen on the sheets

In a moment of rapturous intimacy

the inhaled bliss 

of the euphoric passionate moment,

untamed wildness savored,

Exhaled ecstasy 

released into a song…

That gentle melody still ligers

like hieroglyphics on the walls 

of some long lost abandoned cave

Engraved, etched and carved 

onto the brattice canvas

of a musical minstrel’s 

melodic mind...

Watch the artiste’s finger’s 

prancing graceful ballet

Worn down catgut strings moan

crying out lustfully

The rhythms notes 

paint a masterpiece

 in an infinite 

harmonious time...

 The tempo’s lines.

phrasing,

...hush...!

Listen to the pictures flow...

Listen to the weeping guitar strings’ troubadour

paint the metaphorical canvas scene. 

The ebb and flow of their body’s rhythms,

the Blue Moon’s light glowing

while shadows dance all around

 Joyfully twirling, embracing

while blue bonnet lupine 

swirl and tango 

in the moonlit breeze.

Lilacs fragrant aroma in  springtime

lament the fleeting memories recital

The minstrel and the minstrel’s song

now yearn to be set free 

Timbre without reverberation  

The serenade was never written

by the nightingale

 A romantic moment’s sorrowful memory

abandoned forevermore

unsung,  unreleased, unsaid

left for dead 

through eternity…

The maestro Coyote 

is the wilderness troubadour

of the full moon’s delights.    

Howling...wailing instinctively 

crying hopefully

mournfully grieving 

the minstrel’s cadenza

Love lost below 

the full  Blue Moon’s 

glistening light…

Harlon Rivers… April 30th. 2012

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Some Days

A poem by Harlon Rivers

Some days I’m insignificant

The world just passes by

There were days when I was so definite,

Now they seem like a life time’s ancient disguise

 These days seem numb and irrelevant

This passing moment lost in time

When times are definitely indistinct 

A vivid mirror reflects a muted light

Some days all direction is a mystery

On others I hold the light

Enigmatic emotions breed

 Intangible solitude

There are days where lives feel vulnerable,

Fragile as the fulcrum shakes

While the past can hit like a hurricane

Slamming screen doors closed in your face

Accusations heard through whispers,

Seen out of the corner of crying eyes

Contrived dishonesty dramatic motion

That moment when vague expressions lie

These days it doesn’t matter much,

I just feel misplaced,  missing in action from life

Invisible to a world that’s passing by

Just chimera to the free

Some days we kneel at crossroads

Never knowing when this journey ends

Abandoned, frayed and left behind

In a moment left for dead…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Trust Stolen by Lust

Relationships end in may ways and most aren't good for someone on the losing end if the connections were once meaningful...It's a stark and painful reminder of when things go wrong...It doesn't really matter why when you're emotionally vested...What matters is finding the strength to move on when life can be forever changed...

Trust Stolen by Lust

a poem by Harlon Rivers

Seasons buried emotions leaving them
petrified like wood beneath
the terrestrial floor of a ancient forest,
turning the remains cold and hard as stone
Disconnected and obscured underneath
the depths of repressed disenchanted darkness
Time passed slowly while the scorned
dusty neglected remains of a perfect love’s
illusions seemed as misunderstood
as hopeless, fading delusions of unrequited love.

Flameless flickers of emotional abandon
lay in the wake of a heart-breaker ,
when the last traces of recognizable love
faded in the night like a falling star

Lightening sparks, in plain sight,
ignited a new love’s sizzling wildfire of lust
She was so callused by emotional irrelevance
that no regard was given to the painful tears
inflicted into her disregarded eyes
repressed desires can burst into flames
when the fire's smoky haze is fanned by lust

Once flaming red hot desires became neglected,
smothered, spontaneous combustion
smoldered the black ash of bitterness ;
the charcoal dust of poignant resentment
was enveloped in, surrounded by, a barren
scarred and fiery desert of mistrust.
The flash of discovery burned quickly
upon the blistering impact of a passionate embrace
Destroying a life time of dreams
of new tomorrows instantly!

A scorned lover
with third degree broken heart burns falls silent.
Sewn seeds of sincerity
reaped flammable weeds of mistrust.
A jilted heart in a vicious circle
of overwhelming, life altering, epic proportions
Rendered emotionally dazed when the thrill is gone
Paralyzed in the shadows of scorching betrayal
Getting burned by playing with fire is cliché?

Trust flamed out at infidelities first sight
The illusion of faith in a wholehearted life
vanished instantly as jealousy and remorse
fueled the flames of smoldering anxiety
A world of accepted imperfections
Incinerated as the world went up it smoke
The reality of betrayal
burns loves final embers
to the bone…

Somehow arising from the dust and ashes of disdain
So begins the task
“I must learn to____ without you now”

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 8/12/2012

Author's note: So Begins the Task is a song from Steven Stills Manassas Album
“I must learn to without you now” is a lyric line from that Stills’song that inspired this write...