Word Whispereer

Thursday, April 24, 2014

A Soul of Unfaceted Gemstones

Geode photo by Harlon Rivers



A Soul of Unfaceted Gemstones  


Thunderegg’s unbroken orb lies in hidden wait ,
beyond the mineral curtain’s veil

Undetected glittering beauty beheld
beneath nature’s cleaver guise

The rough textured sphere of the geode
coarse crust cloaks a nebulous mystery

The unidentified iridescent splendor within
bejewels like the magic of
muted heart’s unspoken murmurs

Languid unheeded shine ,
lusterless as an unturned river stone

A forlorn unfaceted diamond in the rough ,
insphered quartz crystalline repose

Agate bloodstone transforms by hands touch
awakening life-breath of Spring sunlight
shown into unsullied darkness

Lightning buried igneous gemstone purple vein ,
Soul lattice longs to metamorphose aglow
spirit of love percolating of destiny’s purpose
touch of thy erupting light upon opening palms …


©  Harlon Rivers ... April 24th, 2014



image by Tommy Ingberg

~   ~   ~   ~   ~ 

.... also , another newly published poem by Harlon Rivers


"Lightning can strike twice" 

from The Diary of the Falling Dominoes chapters


Friday, April 18, 2014

Sunlight in the Soul's Wine



Sunlight in the Soul's Wine


Flutter away without restraint
Beloved unchained heart

O love hold me sway
Trussed subtly by hope’s rein !

Enchantment breach inapt gravity
Ascend beyond soothing cosmic warmth ,
Where ether sunbeam’s brighten

Enlightened eyes wide open ,
Cleansed by teardrops flow ,
Aspiring to gather dreams that steal away

Prevailing undercurrents uplift
The wished for moments
Streaming aloft life's passing tides’ ebb and flow

Recurrent tears have washed the colour of life pale
Breathe within this ashen silence , a new air ,..

How the enchanting work of love enhances nature’s 
Bringing nascent souls tendrils touch
As wild vines do twine and bud about Spring rouse

There’s a muted voice within that must be sung
Let sunlight shine in the soul’s wine
Taste of it’s own fermenting fruit of the vine …


Harlon Rivers ...April 2014

#love #hope #soul shine #heart

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Handwritten Poetry














Handwritten Poetry

Paint the unleashed essence
of unfathomable soul shine
with graceful cursive strokes

Fusion of enchanting avowals ;
an impromptu , sinuous sleight of hand
Aspect lithefully writ from the heart ,
flowing with a spontaneous passion

Quill & ink unfalteringly coursing ,
pulsing heartbeat’s cadence ,
poetry incarnates a muted heart’s voice

Fashion into candor , finding words ,
enough words hid within , out of reach ,
as if graceful river-water sanctified into font , . .
unleash the silence 

a dovelike nature born free

Supple scripted curving nuance
intimately mixing sentiment’s
nebulous colour palette

Bestowing cursive traces ,
one trifling life’s poesy , . .
handwritten enigmatic intimations
drift away from heart 
lost in the universe swirl . . .




Harlon Rivers ...April 15th


 I'm finding quite a different writing process to colouring a muted white paper page into some form of life...be that as it may, going to a library to put paper to screen is a loathsome task ...  so much presence is digitally compromised ... it almost feels like betrayal , not that it will matter as my unconventional perspective evolves in other withdrawn , yet rapt , directions ...


Brought to you by the courtesy of : 
the "Vintage Librarian" and Good Karma Publishing
from the public library 


Monday, April 7, 2014

The end of a moment ...



waning winter-tide...marking the passing of a fleeting moment

photo by harlon rivers



...these days you can wind up " Pacing the Cage "

by Bruce Cockburn


" Promises " ...snippet 12.0

No Waning Promises
No promises made lightly
No promises broken
lonely crossroad's stillness
safe harbor dreamfulness

waiting and forgetting
and, remembering the coming back
more than the tears of the leaving ...

...snippets from thinking out loud
to be continued...rivers


Don Henley with Blind Pilot 

" These Days "

a Jackson Brown cover


" forever beginning renewal dawns " ... 

photo by harlon rivers
























Thursday, April 3, 2014

Come Hither the Vintage Librarian … live @ the public library

April 3, 2014


Microsoft says over 30% of the PC's in the world still use the XP and yet they discontinue support for in a few days ... interesting times ... Many countries and businesses privately paying the ransom to Microsoft to extend support are government related systems, which makes me wonder if even the publicly funded Library systems here in the USA , without support, will survive (?!)


Something written at the public library the last time my computer had issues, opting to get back to the world of books ... 


Déjà vu ...




Come Hither the Vintage Librarian…
live @ the public library

Theses red bricks came long before digital plastic boxes                    
books of all we are now… beclouded               
               with the dust in the wind from roots we once came.    
well-seasoned keyboards shine                      
                      aneath the wooden book shelves
         "Splendour in the Grass "

Sound clouds hover over sleeping dog eared pages lie in stillness wait
like an unenlightened haze,                          
    most see through the alluring nostalgic aroma
         newspapers old news...unfold breaking silence; 
                  yet I hear this pulsing heartbeat drip the yearning ink
     and feel the corner of eyes upon this presence

The vintage librarian grimaces as sounds meander adrift,                  
   remembering the silent days of yore,            
     of this handmade scribbled ink,                           

transcribed from outside the box                 
    she’s curious of this one who writes in cursive 

firstly and not type                                        

        "nearly a lost art (!)" she coquettishly whispers...    

                  was she just flirting (?)              ... I dream t                      
                           the fragrant scent of a woman's poetic mien swirls,                  
                              manifesting awkward moments of thirsting reality,                      
yet still remaining outside the allure                
                                                                 of the digital box...                                            

         ...  now stepping back over the threshold                            
          with a keyboard click beyond the edge                      
             within it, I find a get out of jail free card,                      
   a digital library registration card,                        
   my hand tightly sworn atop a poetry book          
                        and now access to Al Gore's coveted claim of invention          
typed in Shawshank Redemption                        
and hit enter another world            

          Andy Dufresne crawled away from obtuse                                                        

                                 into the fresh air's light via the library
With a rock hammer shielded by the Bible,                                           
                                                        adorning behemoth singularity... he was freed                                        
                                      
          I just came to the library to be with poetic words, if only for a moment,     
   yet liberating breaths...

Harlon Rivers



Postscript:   

Andy Dufresne was the main character in the classic movie, 
Shawshank Redemption.
His clandestine efforts brought a controversial library into Shawshank correctional facility...  


This thought was just written in a public library and meant to be nothing more than thinking out loud reminding myself of needed groundedness, humility…. by picking up nearly extinct books to touch the paper pages and feel the words touch
before hard bound books and libraries disappear like an unprotected endangered species…


Look what I found (!)

536. Ode ...INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY
FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
by William Wordsworth …1770-1850

…from stanza           X.                      
                  
Though nothing can bring back the hour
          Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
              We will grieve not, rather find
                      Strength in what remains behind;