Come Forth Gentlest of Tides

Come forth gentlest of tides ...

Lean into the light shined

aneath billion year old stars

Wintertide shadows

bathed in brimful glow ,

cauterized by starlight

Visceral notions permeate

the head and the heart ,

come forth immense depth

over expansive distance

Hence , given the gentlest

of tides is still a tide

which courses rivers' flow ;

natural ambient levels

rise and fall rhythm

Vast deep waters imbibe

the confluence unity ;

osmose wellspring tributaries drift ,

water issued from a bedrock hole

rooted on mountain high

Springs uprose from terrestrial majestic

debouched into rivers wide ,

suffused in ocean's earthen salt ,

depths deeper than cosmic estuaries vastitude

There is an equilibrium

in the tides roll to and fro

A fulcrum that returns outflow

forever beginning symmetry

where the tide meets the river's current

Gravity’s turning point ,

pendulum’s continuum swing

sage assent arising like smoke tendrils wisp

soul's prevailing tides' ebb and flow

December 28th, 2013 © ...Harlon Rivers

The Last Winter Rose...

A poem by Harlon Rivers

...from the December 2012 chapters 

The Diary of the Falling Dominoes

Coyote howled to another frostbitten dawn
The cold Winter Moon is a bitter sweet mistress
Luna’s final full phase marking another passing year
Hope can grow faint so subtly,
like winter's waning daylight , barely noticeable ,
until its former presence fades away without a trace …

Falling from love’s spinning wheel ,
feels as if gravity has drawn out the Ocean’s final tide
Visions of grandeur adorn new beginnings ;
their smoke and mirrors embellish illusions ,
while leaving a pathway of footprints ,
leading to a conclusion of stymied dreams

The victim of my own imagination watches
as the imagined remaining natural elements become obscure
The more things change the more they remain the same
It is daunting how the chicanery of the mind
plays tricks on the lonely heart of it’s flesh
Loss of balance leads to mere mortal ambiguity

Being pricked by the barbed stem
of a beautiful thorny rose ,
is like a dart to the heart ;
you feel the sting at the moment of penetration ,
however the drip of blood cannot be heard
over an audible emotional sigh ,
benumb the abandon of the silence .

Life slowly trickles out drowning the spirit of the soul …
Silently, without notice from the outside world ,
a broken heart bleeding out one drip at a time is painless ,
except for to look in the mirror and watch it happen
Knowing all the while the end is near ,
watching as sheer agony unfolds ...

The only way to stop the bleeding ,
as a broken heart suffers
through the ache of unrequited love ,
is to stay away from thorny roses
while moonstruck under the lonesome silver light
of the fully illuminated Cold Winter Moon …

Harlon Rivers…December 27th, 2012

A refugee of winter’s deep sea of darkness …

A refugee of winter’s deep sea of darkness …



Intensely hued frieze borne across the winter dawn
Each fleeting sunlit daybreak moment ,
passes like borrowed time ,
knowing the sun radiates its lent glowing gifts
bequeathed of another season come to pass

30 days and 30 beloved alchemistic sunsets
Each a recurring chromatic kaleidoscopic firmament ,
a moments ardent enhaloed sanctity ; heart racing yet torn , uncontrollably sinking like the setting sun
left gasping for breath

A season’s full circle fruition , merging in a docile silence . Merciful surrender to the moment’s fading luminescence ; waning light seeps out with seasons’ receding ebb , monotone grey skies darken stalling the dimmed light of day

Fog rolls in like the long forgotten high tide’s ebbing flood,
quietly beclouding the traces left behind in the heavy mist
The pace slows as the immuring world enshrouds
the nebulous line between
whence the befogged allusion lies

Wintertide’s evanescent sunlight has no mercy
Its suffused absence envelops humble mortal prisoners
mired by hovering hazy inversions
Trees lean southward , dreams bathed in latter day’s illume,  begging for the last dappled rays warmth atop this ridge top winterness

It’s as if the final winter solstice cast sundown’s befallen spell ;   the last solar waves steal away the final fading spirit dropping it uncaringly into the entomb depths , a refugee of winter’s deep sea of darkness …

Harlon Rivers ... ©December 14th, 2013

...In the hands of the maker

These feet trodden benumbed
enslaved by the weight of the load
loamy earth no longer soft , supple ,
forgiving of cold tender feet

the pang of crystalline frost heaves beneath winter moss
as if walking barefoot on frigid rocky ground

each step taken in effort to draw nearer ,
apportion the distance between a place once so close ,
                                and yet ,
                                now the distance appears so wide

the gravity of the metaphysical makes me weak in the knees
                               I drop down and kiss the wintry ground
                               knowing all my cares lie frozen far below 

the scent of burning sage
                                and
                                sweetgrass permeates the chill ,
                                smoke rising like mist into the mystic

a healing smudge carefully brushed with reverence ,
an abounding LOVE cleansing in this earth ,
                                the atmosphere stirs ,

                                I feel the muted words'                                                             silence emanating in the air

... knowing I’m not a stranger in the hands of the maker

© Harlon Rivers ...December 9th, 2013