Blackwater River

Blackwater River

Blackwater rise up from artesian fountains

Upsurge from the provenance of earthen soul

Mingle unto a river of willow’s bend and sway

Rooted in boulders                                                    

scattered  within  

                           milestones                            

                   and                  

                                                     riverbed cornerstones 
                           
                                                                                                 Gray

As though empowering sown seeds mightily strewn

With intent a higher law's freshet flows

For to stream from silence in a satiating tongue

Rolling currents thickly bestow

A  river  of  simple  truth lay  bare

A stream of random kindness betides,

Rivulets of unconditional love abounding

Rootstock birthplace coursing passage from whence

Unbounded rivers' silent reverie manifests

Rippling cadence immersing pulsing whispers

Unbounded rivers rushing deep and wide

Blossoming undercurrents gushing,

resounding,

rhythmic  ebb  and  flow

Verve undulating wholly alive

Genesis of soul marrow's enlightened shine ―

Wellsprings arise from bedrock of mother earth

A surmounting light leavens abidingly

From imploring water's flowing river song

To illuminate the beckoning pathway's bearings

divergent from thither and yon
            
Through  which  to  portage

A way to carry back home in psalm


© h.a. rivers ... November 4th, 2017

Notes:   The Blackwater River in the background,

 I once flew into for a week of fly fishing,

farther north in the British Columbia wilderness

Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down

The fleeing clouds have cleansed the tawny earthen meadows
Migrating sun doth steal away waning light of summer’s glee
High atop fir boughs bow in whispered homage
To the sapience the coloured leaves hath gleaned

The sweet scent of auburn brindled pinecone clusters
Ooze of glistening fruity-resinous pitch
Sticky figured squirrels chatter while they gather,
Stashing away a survival cache of spinners and acorns
For another moment in sleepy winter tide dreams

A swirling eddy of spiraling leaves whirl beneath the tall timber
Fluttering gracefully with a gravity only falling leaves behold
Enchanting like the evanescent timbre poignant piano notes decay
Falling silent as summer Jasmine’s fragrant final bloom

 Dandelion wishes soaring higher
To kiss the fleeting winged skies
Lazily adrift up and over Cascade Mountain Crest
Fuzzy treetop flyers ascending beyond
The golden harvest moon’s blossom ,…

To wish upon a shooting star
Serendipity sown about whimsically in the wind
For to reap the will of heart’s desires

A troop of Chickadees clinging like tiny acrobats
Foraging on ripened ginger hued fir-cone seeds
Waving goodbye to the deciduous cadence
Softly wafting with a pungent Lavender potion scented breeze

There is a secret place where memories hide deeply alive
Amongst the wild wood and impending leafless trees
Where Autumn coloured leaves whisper in the gentle breeze ,…

                 “I would do it all over again”

Come September ,..when the leaves come falling down

© Harlon Rivers ... September 15th, 2016

Sometimes life takes us away to places and difficult times of misunderstanding… causing side effects beyond our control that can knock us off the grid. I’m only human -- Creative writing has been a bittersweet catharsis since early adolescence, often purging a misunderstood life into music and poetry.

These Roguish Winter Winds

sketch by John Muir

These Roguish Winter Winds

bow the unsheltered pines

embodying an arc of a diver

,... gracefully freefalling

through a shapeless portal

with the gravity

of undulating shards of rain

pelting the earthen

forest floor




Leafless wooden scaffolds shiver

with an arrhythmic sway,

perpetually reshaping the moment,

evoking a kind of

chaotic symmetry




Forces of nature rashly unwinding

the essence of hibernating earth

uprising through their roots' grasp

from deep within

the marrow of her

bedrock




Conjuring a spellbinding

primordial unity

that cannot be extinguished

by the unpredictable persuasion

that flourishes

in winter darkness



harlon rivers © January 17th,  2016

Bald Eagle's Soaring Flight

O’ how sacred the splendor

nature's illuminating halo

upraise a spirit yearning to fly

wetted wild feathers blown dry

                                 ... by a higher circle of light

A Bald Eagle's soaring circles

these revered grounds just above

evergreen tree top apex

                                 …Majestic’s sentinels leaning south, 

 

solacing graceful wings

draft on uplifting currents

a vision of grandeur,

wafting round and round,

searching for something or someone

                                 …a lonely soul left behind on earthen ground

then like the drifting sky

follows a gypsy gust a wind

only upraised soul remnants ascend,

in the wake remains

a hallowed edifying condolence

soothing the womb of a soul

                                 ...in the dearth of all warmth of solace

weep not for the flight

of passing memories;

descending tears of many colors

mercifully bequeathed


                                 ...what's gone is lost forever,

                                    what's found is yours to keep ~


harlon rivers ...January 28th, 2016

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 

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.

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

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

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

Counting Crows

Counting Crows

Crow speaks through dawn's fogged windows

uncoffined invocations penetrate 

layers of glassed cages ,

listening to the broken silence beckon

the lightened sky from within

drawing cognition from stoic suspended moments

wings uplifted to a higher treetop crown ; 

black feathered realms muse ,

reminds what is spoken with familiar voices ,

ofttimes unheard by familiar ears disquiet

at least a thousand frogs report morning mist astir ,

yet cannot mute the echoed news on high

crow recites voices from memory ,

perched upon befogged and lonely treetops ,

where eyes clearly see beyond

Reverently recognizing the realm shared

with nearby broken soul …

Harlon Rivers . . . February 20, 2014

Winter’s Feral Waters

Winter’s Feral Waters

O’ river rise 

as meadows seep ,

cleansed by purging 

tempest skies downpour

The gifts of azure clouds

drawn by gravity’s gathering spell

The pathless woods’ music ,

melting snowflakes metamorphosis ,

babbling raindrops trickle , 

the rising creek starts to sing  

concealed by the wind's rhythmic roar

swaying with nature’s thrum

                   

Sloped hill looking down

through the pathless fields feral flow

Roll on eternally coursing

unto erosion sculpted shorelines'

timeless evolving form

Surrendering river banks conform

to untamed waters’ carved margins

Bequeathed waters overflow freely

seeking to rejoin sublime wild waves ,

awaiting mother ocean’s boundless play …

January 12th, 2014 ...© Harlon Rivers 

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

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

Down to the Earth

                                    Down to the Earth

The Maple tree's winged seeds
twirl and float , frolic
down to the earth ...
alighting atop dandylion float seed's
shallow grave
beneath waning scarlet orange traces ,
moss enslaved mushrooms
earth's winter blanket

Crispy oak leaves
glide ... waft ... liltingly
towards other distant horizons ;
adrift like silver dollar
sized snow flakes ,
dusting branches
skiff of golden sorrow ,
down to the earth ...

Laying where spring
buttercups bloomed ,
coyote eyes yellow ,
Spring's blue moon once graced ;
looking up and beyond ,
feeling as a strewn seed engendered ,
veiled by Autumn's
organic spawning redds

I'm down to the earth ... 

© Harlon Rivers ...2013

Season’s great puzzle

The spirit of the ancient tree

pondered the great puzzle

A simple twist of fate

moves the bedrock

these tap roots grasp

These deep roots claw

when trunk sways instinct

Branches reach out

beyond their golden arm’s length

Wind whips wildly astir

in ether eddy’s high places

Grey clouds veil allusions

of misunderstood alchemy

Caught out in the rain

once again a lucid aberration 

The tree cannot become

igneous basaltic lava it clutches

Nor can it run from fire

for it fears not the flaming glow 
of the Autumn woods

The trunk rises above embedded roots

like metamorphic rock

Quietly cogitating release ,

its fickle lucent gypsy leaves

chasing the blustery wind ;

contemplating the great

puzzle unfolding before its being

Changing season’s shelter

prevailing wind undresses ,

naked to the world again

left as found 
yet another wooden ring ...

Did another unbroken circle mean anything ?

©  Harlon Rivers ...  October 10th , 2013

Authors notes:

We cannot run from who we are ...
All I was searching for was  me ...

Deep Prevailing Currents

Deep Prevailing Currents

Writing is a journey into the unknown ,
perhaps too much was already said …
Fighting gravity feels like resisting indifference ,
knowing you will tire from the weight of the load

Adaptation is proof and process

almost like running away,

ebb unto flow only to dissipate,

blending away into the vast distant horizon

Vestige carried out into a sea of abstraction

by gravity’s tidal pull,

as if intentionally slipping out

of some moment's threshold untold

Blue rivers keep right on rollin' ,

evanesce the pulsing cadence adrift , all at sea ,
where all Rivers suffuse with vast oceans ,

eternally free ;

swept away,

drifting unanchored ,
with prevailing seasonal currents

gravitational flow

Wash me in the cleansing balm all at sea ,
drifting back to where it started ..
For all one knows there is not that much that changes ,
perhaps we just repeat …

© 2013 … Harlon Rivers

This Moment in Time

The grandfather clock stands stately
With his back against the wall
An outside glance of stature
Graces his space floor to tall

The dark burl oak wood's beauty
Mellowed by time's aesthetic charms
Quarter sawn by mortal hands
As it ticks away time gone

The rhythm of time echoes loudly
Breaks the silence of the ambient room
Bright polished brass pendulum swinging
My soul's heartbeats in pulse's womb

Hammers note quarter hour carillon
Counted bell toll fleeting time has gone
Hammers strike the melody
Westminster chimes the loss of time

A hand crank winds the triple cables
Each Sunday comes seven days
Tick tock tick tock the rhythmic pendulum pulse
Hypnotic sounds the heartbeat of a home

Lunar time marks blue moon rising
Roman numerals the face of time
Lonely hours tick by gradually
A sorrow laments past moons gone

The vesper gongs inside of soothing darkness
Sounds an ominous tocsin to the soul
A reminder the circle courses continuum
Still a lucidity embraces the spirit in heart of soul

This clock devours all silence
All darkness consumes a soul
Inscription plate reads "In loving memory
of a beloved giver of time bestowed."

The grandfather clock stands solemn
Time ticks away the wasted tears and what they tell
Someday I’ll be gone like your poignant memories ,
Time waits for no one, when another winds your waning song ...


© 2013 ... Harlon Rivers

September 29th ...
2:10 AM ...eternally tolls in my heart ...

"Crossing Over"... The Final Voyage over the Columbia River Bar ... to points beyond the Pacific Ocean

"Crossing Over"... The Final Voyage over the Columbia River Bar ... to points beyond the Pacific Ocean

Red sky at morning ... sailors take warning !!!

First dawn's light steals away over the towering Cascade Head.
A heavy autumn dew dripped from the Whaler's bow rails
as sun rays flashed like beacons from rain-forest headlands on high;
where Pacific Northwest rivers September equinox dawning ebb,
pushed us mercifully unto the chilling stiff autumn sea breeze.

Dappled sun reigning through the pinkish purple morning sky,
patchy fog adorning the awakening inshore headlands atop the bay,
shining from the pearly gate’s mission bells higher ground
beckoning another fisherman lost and found at sea come home...

Heaven’s lighthouse alerts the celestial sky
of the pending eminent soul journey,
highlighting the distant horizon’s breaking swells
capped of white meringue sea foam.
Sea gulls escort precious cargo's final voyage,
gliding gracefully in the shadows of the firmament,
our lungs filled, revitalized with the salty air's poignant elixir
Pelican vanguard's white light reflection guiding our vessel seaward,
alone in a perfect storm...

Northwest gales standing up the ebbing tide’s uprising crescents,
waves pounding in rhythmic flow;
calling all angels, my ruminating mantra
the Clatsop Spit’s dangerous song sounds the stark reminder,
life's raucous changing seasons, prevailing winds siren’s call,
that now is nearly here...

The countenance of flowing salty tears liberating release,
vast ocean's raw sheets of saltwater spray would not hide.
He just sat and stared at the seaward horizon
while the telltale tears flowed ,
perhaps a dream of a merciful final surrender with eyes wide open,
love steering our vessel west where sun shines to set

Now far beyond the visible ache,
for mine own eyes blur trepidation teardrops
rained as sheets of sea,
the wordless conversation known ,
the compass full circle drawn
like the sacred salmon's cycle ends
to nourish back ancient sage unto its own;
forever beginning life, eternally drawn through river estuaries
stirred by ebbing infinite tidal pull...

 There is an oppressive weight found
within paternal understanding,
and yet, as certain as the dawn promises the inevitable setting sun;
all things must pass as sure as all things begin,
someone you love most, longest in life
has come forth to break bread at sea as the torch is passed,
sharing life for the last time comes too soon with little warning.

There was an emotional unidentifiable hollow pang,
as if letting go gradually, yet potentially instantly,
drains every last drop of a breaking heart ache;
strength swallows sighs lumps in throats, words better left unsaid
only cleansing tears flow, knowing when they start to purge
they might not want to stop again

.
This moment's final autumn’s changing season’s waning ebb
That final riptide will forevermore change all other rivers’ flow,
where oceans set mother earth's rivers free until the end of time...

My father ... a man's man who seemed to find a peaceful Zen;
an unfinished life was reborn that day to see it through
as my hands grasped the wheel, compass held steady,
the son to carry on the weight of love ,
compassionate understanding taught
love inspired the fortitude to carry on knowing we can never go back.

As a life flashed before my eyes on that final raging Pacific sea,
instincts mused by ancient Tyees’ souls
stirred new sun's radiant rays of perception;
accepting this life on earth would never be the same
yet would just simply be,
knowing this light's shine will never glow quite the same again,
yet radiate a more vivid luminosity...

We melded into that first day of Autumn,
falling silent, heads held high
There was nothing left to be done but pray with eyes wide open
“spirits of all oceans of mother earth …
show the sacred salmon the way to peaceful waters back home”

Few words were spoken as everything was silently said.
"To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose,
under Heaven"

The Outrage, knuckles white the wheel,
climbed mountainous long ocean swells
breaking over the giant boulder jetty;
there rolls the mighty Columbia jaws,
where all Rivers suffuse with vast oceans, eternally free...

 .... Harlon Rivers .... September 25th . 2013

Written with the fondest loving memories of my father's life and times shared~


So much of this day's memory is deeply repressed and each year I try to free a little bit more but each year passed has been privately circle filed, yet I try again to be set free.. 

Purging emotions so intense that they are nearly blacked out...I have never tried to publish any memory of this day until now although I do find hints that come to me much later after publishing some creative writing, I did not realize the basis of depth until later private moments... 

It was in fact the day of the Autumn Equinox a few years ago, a final birthday celebration of sorts combined with bringing the Boston Whaler Outrage, home. Dad passed 1 week later after this trip from Pancreatic cancer ...we spend the final 72 hours alone together at Hospice after his September 25th birthday..."Crossing Over"   R.I.P. Dad

Stormy Seas
I believe this poem linked below is one of my favorites I have written to be an earlier creative account of this emotional day.

http://harlonrivers.blogspot.com/2012/06/stormy-seas.html

Vacancy…room rent free as a bird

violet green swallows rent

these calloused hand's

love laden nest boxes ,

metamorphose love and affection ,

nature’s spirit of osmosis

love is not always as it seems

so thrives the call of the wild

the dawn giveth and away

flourishing on natures bountiful essence

and you know that it's right

four walls are a prison

spring and summer visitors fly free ,

promises made ... promises kept

that moment of faith beyond fear,

hearts the size of mustard seeds fly free

hallelujah (!) thundering pulse on high

there comes a bitter sweet now

to all those left behind ,

when all big boys do cry ;

do sigh at the passing of love ,

the passing of love ,

thankful for touching

eternal love’s amazing grace ...

harlon rivers

7.15.2013 ... First Quarter Moon 7 day(s) old

Postscript: ...love don't leave me alone

likely sounds silly , a big ol' grizzly looking man so

I have never been good at good byes ...

seem to get something in my eyes ~

I asked over and over each year past

to go with each piece

of infinite heart they take ,

but know there are more nest boxes to build

for to fly away tomorrow

with paper wings  (!)

" Traces of You " ... A Father's Tribute

Memories of My Father's Traces...

The mighty water falls...landscapes this rivers great divide

                        Cascading walls of water soar and plunge...From a silhouettes high and wide 

A tribute to my father ...  His influence  made me a better man today...

A poem by Harlon Rivers

"Traces of You"

There are traces of you in the rainbow

Wisps of your watercolor 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 shore

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 moonlight 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 fear and emotion.

There are traces of you in an old song

You fought for the light of truth with love,

With the fidelity of an iron fist 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 distant  

There are traces of your loving spirit in my 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 my eyes

Your every breath will always be cherished

Your life’s traces remain in the teardrops in my eyes... 

© 2012 Harlon Rivers