"I can still feel you without touching"

It came as no surprise
when you stepped back
from the edge ,
away from an enigma's inception
on the cusp of a blissful dream ;
fraught by the serendipity
of what might happen ,
revealing
the hidden treasures denied
Wanting what was Taken
far more than
what could ever be Given

Beheld tantalizingly
in an admiring strangers’ eyes ;
if you want me to look away ,
I can still see you
without watching
Helpless to see
for the fog in my eyes ,
feeling you
tauntingly letting go
without jumping

Maybe it was your dream
            or ..,
maybe it was mine
Sensing whether
to stay or go
amounted to the same thing ;
the world gets small
hanging on to the ledge - -

on the verge at the threshold
... there are no maps
    to guide you
... I’ll have to pay
    for what you break ...
Now these indelible footprints
amble across my heart ,
leaving only the traces
- the passing of love

Insensibility sighs
like paltry subterfuge
looking down here ,
flauntingly ,
from a faux higher ground
Whispering through the silence
from your secret places
    knowing ..,
I can hear you
without listening

Be it so ,
wherever you go ,
- be the love
  you wish to receive
- love is  -
- touching souls -
even if only - -  for a conscious moment ...

Diminish not
the power
of unrequited dreams
while looking over the edge
expecting to fly ..,
just a step away
from touching hearts

            yet ..,
I can still feel you
without touching


harlon rivers © December 21st, 2014

The long benighted days of wintertide

...by harlon rivers

The impending winter skies
intrude upon
a waning December daylight ,
the clouds mercurial cadence
scrolls swirlingly across
the decaying
late autumn sky
atmospheric river currents coursing ,
laden with the reckless abandon
of an unstoppable
manic tumbleweed

wind gusts steal away
autumn's last rose petals’
surrendering flight ;
summer's fragrant chalice
just a fading memory ,
harbinger to a gathering
winter kismet ,
an imminently looming
interlude with
the long benighted days
of wintertide ...

harlon rivers © December 19th , 2014

Author's notes:

Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a type of depression that's related to changes in seasons — SAD begins and ends at about the same times every year. If you are feeling blue and don’t really understand why …this site link may help to understand the effects that the low light levels of winter may have on you.

#SAD

https://www.nami.org/About-NAMI/NAMI-News/2013/Less-Sunlight-Means-More-Blues-for-Some

Help destigmatize mental illness --- Kindness matters

The intricate clamor of love ... befallen to silence

No conclusive words imagined
nor crowning words left unsaid
No promises made lightly
only to vanish like the decay
of a piano's final evanescent note ;
waning timbre betides
the haze of another lonely winter’s
cold light of day

The intricate clamor of love
befallen to silence ...
Such an absorbing contrast
between emotive naivety
and arcadian innocence lost

The land between the tides ,
blind hope abandoned at island’s edge ;
searching for a forgotten labyrinth ,
through the chasm at the crossroads ,
just beyond the washed out bridge
Clinging to comfortable with uncertainty ,
while holding onto something
you don't  need

Stop armoring a broken heart ,
it’s too late to take heed
Love is not some unhealed wound borne ,

there's already too much

in this world to make you bleed

The battle rages
within the muffled madness
deep inside the marrow
an unappeased soul
trying to stem the tide
a chastened loneliness

There’s no going back
for the lingering spoils
Unleash the quelling tourniquet
holding back the abashed tears ,
calmly succumbing to a numbing
sense of futility

And yet , the singer keeps singin’
the same ol’ song ..,
swelling to the intensity
that renders an awful silence ,
the consolation
masking the déjà vu
of the lingering ache ...

harlon rivers ... © December, 2014

Call it Magic

   call it magic ...

call it golden autumn hue

dawn mist imbues the hush of daylight

daybreak’s enchanting silent renewal

sunrise races down like a cascading  waterfall

mystic rainbow shards shine through

 morning pearlescent enchanted droplets ;

magical dewdrops glisten

like harmonious splendor bejeweled

autumn’s sumptuous colours drawn

set fire to the hallowed view

the newness of  uncovered skin

vibrant maple drops her dress 

with a sleepy spin

upon the waking dawn's frosty chill

her naked colors strewn 

whither fiddlehead ferns unfurl

a place where the magic of creation

delights in heavenly muse

a rare emergent continuity

prescient to life’s ever-changing view

an ode to a waning presence reborn

surrendering to a poignant autumnal purview

whence searching souls touch stirringly

at the edge a new world begins

to taste that uncommon tranquility

peace just over the mountain

hand hewn from solitude

© harlon rivers poetry & photographs ... November 2014

the slow death of a poet

A diary of the falling dominoes chapter, republished on Word Whisperer original poetry blog.

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat ,
gasping for new breath
in a hovering stale silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance , 

impossible to  discern what storms rage 

from the inside out

the uncontained wildfire smoldering within
lies in wait for the winds of change
to fan the flames into the final ashes

a poet reaches out demurely

offering a candid look

into the window of the human soul

there is no poetry

met by indifference

just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time drips slowly on the page
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out like seeping blood
evanescing from a bottomless puncture wound 

penetrating the heart
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for Poetry is only words unless they touch someone ...
befallen to indifference is poetic death by paper cuts ...
a muting suffocation that wears away,
silencing the passion of a musing soul ...

one unread word at a time 


© harlon rivers ...October 10, 2014

Liberating Dreams

Liberating Dreams

Unlock all those well hidden dreams
Breathe in their
hopeful impending bloom
The colour within
lay barren a swellen bud
yearning like a scorned lover
thirsty for the bitter sweet
Astir an unrequited memories ' afterglow
the dull throbbing ache

slowly wears away the soul


Time stealthily passes unnoticed ;
comes a time ..,

time came and went
allusions of forbidden dreams of grandeur
come unraveled ,
erode away ,
everlastingly reshaped
Carved by kismet and circumstance
leaving a broken ,
abrasive hindsight ,
wearing like a mouthful of sweet lies


Uncage those secret buried treasures
beheld closely a mind-made bastille
Unshackle those pining restless wings ,
cast loose the weight ,
the burden of gravity borne alone ,
for to fly far and away
alighting beyond 
those guarded enslaving walls


Enkindle the soul’s shine in all its brilliance ,
stirred by musing , liberating dreams
Uplifted like soaring
constellations splendor ,
enriching the harmony of the universe


Bring to light the essence of verve ;
the inner shine enlightens buried shadows
Unfetter that which chastens
the heart’s pulsing radiance

Come out from behind clever disguise


Embrace the feral anticipation
Imbibe passionate dreams forbidden fruit
Unleash the tameless spirit within ,
pulsing through roiling  veins ,
absolving the raging and restless sole within
Gazing at the stars above
renewed by an unbridled dreamfulness
searching on a cloud for a lullaby

harlon rivers ... © October 2014 

#liberating #dreams

Steal away the summer sun

The fall duskiness
snuck up like a moon shadow ,
quiet as a mouse ;
tiptoeing ,
sneakingly wary ,
into autumn candlelight’s
snuggling warmth

Seasons change ,
steal away
the summer sun
sinking level
with southern horizons ,
leaving only falling leaves
silently rousing flutter

Twilight skies
play hide and seek ;
the man in the moon
peaks around
magenta cotton clouds ,
winking through
the mountain greenery’s
dappled luminescence

The hush . . ,
candlelit quietude
flickers
from newly borne
stillness

harlon rivers ...© October 2014

The memory of lingering moments

The memory of lingering moments

Remembering your final evanescent breath’s exhale
I close my eyes and see you’ve gone
Sail away into peaceful ocean’s waning sunset
Drift away into distant horizons beyond

There is never a well - seasoned sailor’s voyage
Without tide book and sagacity in weathered hands
Steady compass hold ye sway ,.. deftly poised
Never an ocean to wide to cross
Nor never stormy seas too swellen to be borne

An unbroken circle courses an unfinished life
It’s a long and hard journey pushing on
It all seems so vividly just like yesterday
Running on faith , a forever beginning impending dawn

Some days are indelibly etched on heart’s walls
Some moments were carved in ancient stone
These are the days of fleeting memories' pang
Still standing tall with fragile heart in open palms

There is a comforting reverence knowing
Hearing love’s mantra alive in the breeze
Believing unconditional love’s imminent eternal bloom
Shall never fade away

harlon rivers ...  September 28th , 2014

Note : Time cannot erase what which we hold closest .

An emotional purge ... a first draft to be shared as is 

commemorating  the anniversary of my father's last day on earth 

The truth entwined in dreams

We only collide in mesmerizing daydreams

things have never been as they seem

presence felt  so tangible across distant horizons

touching souls only in the throes of musing dreams

Therein lies an abstruse distance to destiny

exiled by clairvoyant sheltering walls

shielded within a hidden untouchable safe haven

imprisoned comfortably confined within

Once exploring vast winding river’s shoreline

tiptoes taste at the shallow waters’ edge

"Close your eyes" ..,  float afar where ferral currents beckon

waft away in moonstruck daydream’s trance

Only in sumptuously lucid night dreams

we crash stark-naked into a sea of sublimity

plunging into an alluring  metaphysical abysm 

into the secret titanic depths azure oceans bathe

Plummeting from the edge a utopian threshold

sway aneath restless swollen waves touch

unraveling  passion’s prevailing tidal maelstroms

that wellspring of  cadence to which I yearn to swim

Yet … I’ll drift away alone this restless sky full of stars

fly by night through star dust showered cosmos scenes

crash into naked stars’ luminescent splendor

imbibe a spellbinding elixir yellow moon serene

Only in dreams before morning dewdrops gather

impearled flesh glistens on the cotton beach of dawn

awakening sighs replace the warm enraptured whispers

the touch our sensual asylum betides

Splendidly improbable entrancing reverie

inspire indefinable enchanting realms

awakening to another lonesome daybreak’s

outgoing tide of broken beautiful dreams 

Harlon Rivers © September, 2014 ... all rights reserved

Yes ... only love can break your heart

Thoughts ring poignantly conscious ,
bestirred amongst the warm summer breeze
brimming over with crickets ' thrumming
seasaw chirrup

Unintentional expectations
seep into the rhythmic sounds ,
unplanned thoughts lingering
like misunderstood life residue

Forgotten or dismissed ,
as if an abandoned vagabond aimlessly adrift
lost on a misbegotten voyage ,
upon a wanton heart’s stormy seas

Alas , weep not within tender heart
for even the simple beauty of perfect bloom
ripening metamorphosis
as seasons do change

Behold .., suddenly taken aback
by a lighter moments frolic
in the brimful breeze ,
giving up their whimsical offerings
in a moment of need

Black capped chickadees
line the rustic grey stone pool
three & twenty wide
free to giggle and splash ,.. turn the tide

Nuthatch flock chatters upside down
the gnarly Oak’s mossy bark
bringing a needed reality back
into this solaced moment’s gravity ;

Their whimsical chit chat
rings sweetly
as if it were children laughing

Descry the conscious moment ;
the way I’m meant to be
knowing all that is wanted
is to feel like I am whole again

Yes ... only love can break your heart
Yet only the spirit nature’s higher love
bequeaths a pathway to healing ...

© harlon rivers ... August 29 , 2014

authors note: 

This is a poem where the moment was just scribbled out in a conscious ramble... some freestyle poetry just goes where it wants to go...free to be what it is ... I can be who I am , livin’ in the heart of the country

It can be amazing how powerfully nature can evoke a metamorphosis of perspective in meditative moments…
turning mien 180 degrees from introspective muddled thoughts into outrospective presence.

There’s a kind of hush

There’s a kind of hush strewn
by the dawn’s wafting mist
upon the crystalline dew dampened stillness
Steller's Blue Jay's raspy cackle
hawks haughtily
in-between cracked acorn subsistence
Ancient Oaks' stoic scaffolding
bears the weight
the waning summer daybreak sky

Upper sanctuary branches lichen crossroads
squirrels highway to higher fir crowns
Circadian rhythms astir amongst the hazel brush;
instinctively feeling more than noticing
the subtle diminishing daylight hours
Gleaning the lazy summer’s
ripen nuts and seeds ;
repurposing to fuel the change of season’s
evolving tasks

An inherent sense of urgency hastens pace ,
scurrying hearts restlessness harvesting ,
dropping unripened green pine cones ;
recurring ' kerr-thuds ' breaking silence
as if the awakening sky were falling
onto the dried fir brow needle montage below

Destination --- secret stashes
well hidden pantries tucked away
Gathering fruition , for they know not
the paper artifacts adorning walls
nor, where hangs the calendar
of human measure

It is a natural continuum rhythm ,
encircling the universal currents’ synergy
that courses the symmetry ;
nature’s realms sway
to a sublime harmony ,
another revolving circle passing ,
another ring in the ancient Oak’s wood ,
yielding to a higher law's amity
of amazing grace . . .

harlon rivers ... August 20, 2014

Call of the Wild ... Encircling Pinnacles

© harlon rivers photo

Call of the Wild ... Encircling Pinnacles

Nomadic Canadian Geese chevrons circle
beneath the drifting
billowy inshore marine flow
Bulbous orange grey
meringue clouds
meander just above
the distant coastal sunset horizon
Their honking call of the wild ,
their clannish vagabond demur squabble ,
an undeniable visual vanguard
. . . seasons change
no longer presupposed , . .

Resident Red Tailed Hawk glides
and drafts gracefully
below the sky borne ruckus
Seemingly an annoying intrusion
by the flat land temporaries
discoursing arouse ;
interrupting his serene flight
Stealing away waning summer glides
uplifted by a soothing warm currents peace
Floating high above native habitat
seasoned stick latticed roost ;
hallowed home perched
on the pinnacle
majestic old growth wood . . .

© harlon rivers ...August 2014

The Dawning of the Day

The dawning of the day ...

Shadows of darkness speak in hushed dialects
Thoughts drip from tongue’s  stillness
with the silence of a whisper ;

osmosis forms dimly back-lit word whispers ,
heart’s avowals adrift , float in the ether currents' sigh
amidst the early morn's dappled thrown shadows

Enkindled embers of hope’s silent reverie
smoldering  in yesternight's
satchel of leftover dreams

Open palms behold a fragile heart in hands
awaiting daybreak’s kiss ;    

the spinning world becalmed ,
a seized moment's tranquility ........

Forever beginning verve quietly astir ,
incarnates the dawning of the day

Ethereal silence answers more questions than words
Colour of anticipation inflames spirit’s sunrise sky ...

Harlon Rivers ... © February 24th, 2014

Evanescent ; when you don’t matter

EVANESCENT ; when you don’t matter

If a falling star

kisses ocean’s wild vastitude  ,

does anybody see the impact's circling  aftermath 

as the rippled waves continuum evanesce (?!)

That fleeting moment when the sea

imbibes the gravity of another setting sun ,

surrendering to the yield

the bending horizon (?!)

Will anyone grasp

a simple deep moment's

transcendence ,

illusion of grandeur (?)

What is the sound

a breaking heart's exhale ,

but a muted whisper breathed

in the silence of the torn (?!)

Can restless silence discern

an empath’s pang ,

behold the solace of a forlorn

callous ache of indifference (?!)

Circles turn ,

seasons pass ,

blind eyes turn away the forgotten ,

" out of site out of mind "

Does anyone heed the hushed ache

of hidden swallowed lumps in throat ,

sorrowful longing ,

lonely dampened inaudible sighs ;

Will anybody hear

the bold expanse of silence (?!)

Authors note : EVANESCENT : 

passing out of sight; fading away; vanishing . . .

© harlon rivers

It’s okay to change your mind

There’s ne'er a need to suavely vanish

run out of space for petal's flower

loving is a risk

touching souls sublime

imbibe it ;

breathe it out

unleash it

swill love's elixir

steep gifts unconditionally endowed

. . . it’s okay to change your mind

Arise from fear

slip this skin ,

the unseen chain that binds ,

the unplanned passing of love

prevailing winds of change

dishevel  souls

how restless bestirred regrets impose ,

caught between all you wish for ,

lamenting all you need

. . . it’s okay to change your mind

Lying on a soothing bed of buttercups

passion burns like the moonbeams

in our eyes

goose bumps veiled by dappled moonlight

shards of moonbeams

caress warm shivering flesh delights , . .

instead of finding your bliss

let your bliss find you

. . . it’s okay to change your mind

Love is a refuge ;

respite from the cold 

and lonely nights

do you still favour me from time to time?

the sounds the passing of love lingers 

in the forever stained silence

of my misunderstood world

the quieter you've become

the more I hear your ether tides

Love ne'er wants to be

a weight borne

seasons do change

we crave what goes away 

as changing contentment's wane

. . . it’s still okay to change your mind

© harlon rivers . . . August 2014

Veritable Quandary

We can wait a lifetime

and never be certain

 

never taking that first step

that leads to a journey

of a thousand miles

arm’s length stands

just a step away…

Suspended with bated breath

at the daunting crossroad’s cusp

the sun yawns and vanishes,

stealing away the unused shine

abandoning its thrown shadows

yielding to the repose of night

aspect bemoans atrophy

love is the opposite of fear

the trepidation of failure

weighs heavy on the threshold,

knowing all the while,

without stepping through,

life is just a step away…

© Harlon Rivers

Faces of the variegated clouds

Faces of the variegated clouds 

The motley clouds’

erratic montage swirls ,

muddling the melancholy ashen

summer morn’s dappled sunlight 

eyes drawn forth skyward , 

for his spirit sought 

a higher passionate light 

whence there was none 

at hand a pensiveness ascending

jasmine’s fragrant enchantment

wafting a requiting reminder

through cracked open windowsill

within this forlorn darkness

bestirs a subtle

morphosis of light ~ ~

a wistful moment levitates ;

estranged . . .                                                       

by unraveling sensibilities ,

              premonition rousing nebulous faces 

                                                          in the clouds' swirl

some days ,..                 

alone is something to be

these days ,..                  

 alone is nothing to be . . .

harlon rivers

July .23 .2014

A Poet is a Vessel

when poetry moves me, every once in a while when I'm feeling my senses manipulated by words, I want to sit back and enjoy the view in my mind contemplating where you've journeyed, who you are and what is behind "your" creative conceptions

 ... an awakening moment’s visage of a poet / poetess

A Poet is a Vessel

A poet is a wistfully musing vessel
free flowing creative conduit
burgeoning voluble word artistry
adducing the vast symmetry
beget the universe

artisan fountainhead’s inception in motion
emitting poetic passion; vestage of life journey
oracle gushing, pulsing through written heart
creativity melded and cast in crucible
wellspring cosmic heart and soul

" exemplum" incarnated
from within flesh sheathing
flourishing with rhythm and beauty ,
blossoming forth
~ the medium of poetry ~

harlon rivers
7/19/2014

thank you for manipulating my senses with your gifts of poetry...

Notes  : from Wikipedia                                                                                                
exemplum : An exemplum (Latin for "example", pl. exempla, exempli gratia = "for example", abbr.: e.g.) is a moral anecdote, brief or extended, real or fictitious, used to illustrate a point.

Summertime's blissful song ...(10w)

Ecstatic bird songs

enrapture 

boundless mirth

resonating 

   throughout the heavens . . .

Note:

the Violet-green Swallows left their nest boxes this morning,
July 15th, 2014...the exact date they flew free last year;
the synchronicity of the universe is enlightening.

see... July 15th, 2013 

 " Vacancy,.. room rent ... free as a bird "

 http://harlonrivers.blogspot.com/2013/07/vacancyroom-rent-free-as-bird.html

 

harlon rivers
#nature

Squeezing Blood Out of a Stone

He knew he could never suffer 

from the madness they perceive 

It’s easy to look the other way 

when you’re blinded by what you see , . .

a poem from "The Diary of the Falling Dominoes" anthology by Harlon Rivers

Squeezing Blood Out of a Stone

What is the song the moon sings ?
In the silence of the starry blue night ?
Is it the sound of a heart breaking ?
Or the mournful bemoans
a shadow on bended knees ,
lost in a moment of stress and strife

No one ever thought they would hear
a shadow's screaming echoes
at the sallowed moonlit night !
No one gave it a second thought . . .
Never bothered to ponder
the unknown reasons for the thoughts .

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

Habor no disrespect for honest disbelief ,
when the flame burns brilliantly high
Awakening revelations rise like heat lightning
An impossible unseen illusion
for those who are blocked
by their own light

Just a mysterious inconvenience
waiting for the whole thing to blow apart
A subtle unnoticed interruption
like a shooting star in the foggy twilight
Emerging from the vanishing shadows
absorbed by the fading darkness taking flight

Some days we innocently stumble
Sometimes we trip and fall
      Smash into something good . . .
Hang on until its time to let go
Trying to wipe away the final teardrops
       is like squeezing blood out of a stone . . .

©harlon rivers

Just a single grain of the universe ...

secret sacred waters on high ...photo by harlon rivers

                           Just a single grain of the universe ...

I am the song from purling river bottom undulate currents 

sung with the feral voice a river overflowing  tears

awakened  to feel the ache a loneliness wash o’er 

deep big eddy’s swirling macrocosmic churn

  singingly soothing arrhythmic bouldered waters’ roll

silently smoothing prehistoric igneous stone

temporal memories' artifacts fade away simpatico

like sedimentary fingerprints insipidly erode 

ever-changing undercurrents ebb and flow

river-song coursing sweetly rogue to and fro

rolling down the cascading wild riverbed winding-road

unchained a higher rocky  mountain’s forked throne

the river's hallowed confluence --- spellbound oceans' beck and call

drawn by enamelled yellow moon’s gathering push and pull

metamorphosis incarnates the highest mountain’s stone’s throw

unto a single grain of distant shorelines’ heart and soul ...

© harlon rivers ... 6.16.2014

Traces of You ... a father's tribute ...republished

Traces of You ... a father's tribute

There are traces of you in the rainbow
Wisps of your vast colour palette, paint the mystical sky
The Song Sparrows’ song
reminds me of your melodic whistle in the summer breeze
The resolute silence your grounded soulful solitude implied.

There are traces of you in the rivers, where water falls from high
Where the ocean’s waves reach some distant shoreline
I hear the sound of your voice roar in the passing thunderstorm
Your love light shines like a moonlit troubadour.

There are traces of you in the garden
Many beautiful roses exposed your fragile side
Among the abundant blossoms, it’s effortless to imagine you here
Your peaceful spirit adorns this lovely space where love resides.

There are traces of you in the moonlit night
Glimpses of your shining heart are found in the infinite stars
Your aura is like the harvest moon’s angelic halo
A beacon of compassion for the indifference in other world’s apart.

There are traces of you in the early morning’s dew drops
In the amazing grace of the setting sun
Your thoughtful pondering evolved from life’s vast journey
An air of ardent calmness, quieting the fear and emotional fray inside.

There are traces of you in an old song
You fought for the light of truth with love,
With the fidelity of an iron fistful of mercy, in a velvet glove
The kind of muse that left me proud to be your son.

There are traces of your heart and soul
as your treasured memories grow afar
There are traces of your loving spirit in this smile
An ancient spiritual essence lives in every breath I take
Your devotion always walked with me the extra mile.

The merciful surrender of an unfinished journey,
Left traces of your verve in the depths of my soul
Those traces of love’s grasp make this life worth living
Infinitely, eternally, spiritually whole.

There are traces of you in this mirror
I see your vivid reflection in these eyes
Your every breath will always be cherished
Your life’s traces remain forevermore enfolded
within these teardrops in my eyes...

© 2012 ... Harlon Rivers

Authors notes:

Friday, June 13th, 2014 ...reposted- remembering Father's Day
Memories of My Father's Traces ... a tribute to my father

His influence inspires me to constantly strive
to be me a better human ...

"The mighty water falls...
landscapes this rivers great divide
Cascading walls of water soar and plunge...
From a silhouettes high and wide"
Centuries fleeting rivers flow
carved and shaped an ominous path
Fertile valleys hewn deep and wide
by raging waters wrath
This place was graced
through those centuries sage
My heart's ashes will rest strewn
where river waters yearn to pass"
...from "The River's Muse"

"Crossing Over"... The Final Voyage over the Columbia River Bar ... points beyond the Pacific Ocean" memories our final fishing trip---

linked below

http://harlonrivers.blogspot.com/2013/09/crossing-over-final-voyage-over.html

Honeysuckle Wild Rose Dawnbreak

Honeysuckle blossoms unfurl 
beneath a passion pink

wild rosy hued

daybreak  sky

Red Rooster crows

perched atop fencepost ,

echoing across

the harkening stillness floor ,..

“ there’s  something in the wisp ”

an avowedly heralded awakening ,

("cock-a-doodle-doo")

unto the evanescent stars’

looming sunlight  surrenders

the brilliant warmth approaching

first June lazy days ,

peeks up , up over

beyond near mountain high's

strewn shadow

underneath  

tendrils yawn

and

         stretch out - - - - -

let loose from eventide’s

waning shadowed grasp ,

leaning into

arising solar glister

dew drops wending downward

gathered crystalline teardrops

spilled upon

spangled earthen sod

suckles quench

buttercup petal’s rousing

golden yellow hue

morning sunbeams stimulating ;

spring fragrance glorifies

each and every

enthralling moment’s

heart awakened gifts

rapt ,..

reality is a dream

honeysuckle kisses

unwrapped blossoms

perfumed flowers bouquet

so stirringly pungent ,

breathtakingly poignant

yet ,..

so sweet the musing synergy

intimate memories ,

of impassioned pink

wild rose daybreaks

and ,..

salty apple blossom jasmine scent

honeysuckle wild rose coalesce

spicy alluring waft drifting

a spell casting elixir …

harlon rivers ... June 2014

just a tear or stardust in my eyes ?

Heart whispers throb

amidst a chasm too vast to fill

even in the muted pause ,

a stillness of ardent reflection ,

there seems a question 

breathed searchingly ,

demurely exhaled 

echoes into a contemplative 

hollow silence

Had renewed hope 

only been a tantalizing thrill ;

a cosmic glint 

enlightening the chill

shadowed void ?

Unrelenting 

entrancing traces , 

had fleetingly flashed past ...

Could it have been

a shooting star, 

an angel of mercy , 

a bluebird ,
or perhaps ,

a fragile butterfly ~ 

alas ,.. 

brushed by with 

sublime rapturous aura ; 

yet without fleshly touch ,

clearly,
an accidental 

enchanting flutterbye 

just a dream ,.. 

just a dream ,.. 

just a dream ,..

just a why ,..

life subsided , 

diminished , 

recurred vanilla

these days 

a circadian rhythm ,

seasons minutiae

the rise and fall
of the subtle tides

just a tear
   or stardust ,..
in my eyes ?



1st cup Tuesday... rivers

Note:    circadian rhythm; biological temporal rhythms, such as daily, tidal, weekly, seasonal, and annual rhythms, is called chronobiology. Although circadian rhythms are endogenous ("built-in", self-sustained), they are adjusted to the local environment by external cues , commonly the most important of which is daylight.
wiki...