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