The Soul of a River Rock

A Poem By Harlon Rivers

When you look at my cover photo to this poetry blog you probably can see that rivers are an important symbolic icon in my life. I grew up on the river and that cover photo is a photograph I took of a special spiritual place I go to connect with the roots of my ancient culture.  Here I find peace and balance as well as who lives in this form of my flesh...I view life conceptually thinking as many paralleled similarities with nature. This is an attempt to express those thoughts in a creative way here. Thanks for reading about the river.

The river rock lay cleansed 
adjacent to the receding flood waters

Exposed, glistening in the sunlight, like a naked stone collage

Just above the turbulent water's edge, every single piece

of the shoreline’s puzzle still fits perfectly

As if every single river rock were a perfectly placed piece

rather than naturally falling into arrangement

of a much grander landscape

Having endured gravities unlimited currents 

Abstract patterns emerge 
with the continuity of an intricate dreamscape

Broader perspectives viewed from awakened moments

Life has so many hues of infinite shades of grey 
redefining black and white

So much unique visually obscure definition

Sandstone, Limestone, volcanic afterbirth, 
boulders, thrown stones  

Rolling stones that gathered no moss

Pebbles gathered from the spawning redds 
lay scattered within the river’s shoreline beach maze

Once sustaining parallel aquatic existence

now resting basking in wait until the next season's floodwater

reestablishes purpose to their organic downsize cycle

Stones rounded and rolled through the ages

Expatriated from unknown mountainous terrain

Prehistoric elevations and unknown distant horizons

Through new beginnings until the winds of change

blow away the remaining naturally eroded dust

Vanishing hazy memories of weather-beaten endings

No two river’s rocks are ever the same
anywhere in the vast universe

No two human beings are ever the same 
somewhere in the vast universe

Each soul has a place in an eternal landscape

as vast and varying as a sea of humanity

Colors are a never-ending range as infinite

as the watercolor palette of mother earth

Stones interwoven within the earth’s tapestry

of minerals and fossilized matter cling to roots

Unlimited sizes compose the unbounded myriad of shapes

Shaped by the forces of nature over time

After enduring gravities currents of life’s ebb and flow

Natural life energy sculpts ever changing reality

Contoured by eternal universal currents

Attrition shapes life’s constantly evolving form

Until all that remains are the original grains of sands,

water, a puff of clay dust to be molded into new beginnings
and a universal connection between all things

© 2012 Harlon Rivers  8/10/2012

Two Eyes

This poem goes back a few months to a volunteer opportunity at a homeless shelter...

I went home that night after it was over very emotionally moved and tried to record the experience the way I saw it through my " two eyes"...
Just because it is not a major holiday it is always time to advocate for the homeless who all need a compassionate helping hand and anything the more fortunate can spare.   A friend works for human services and reminded me about a problem that never seems to go away and has worsened in the difficult times many face.   Thanks for reading.

Two Eyes

Two eyes search out from darkness    

red whites, black and blue, brown iris, hazel green

Two eyes squint at brightness lost 

From a place light is rarely routine

Two eyes look out from hopelessness

helplessly hoping, numbed and ill at ease

The hollow stare of loneliness

reflecting time spent down on your own two knees          

Four eyes meet in fleeting glances

through the windows of two shy souls

Two eyes magnified by thick lenses

Four eyes flickers magnify two souls.

Two eyes seek out life’s meanings

asking the many tough questions why

Two eyes stare out from empty silence

holding back two eyes welled up by teardrops cry

When two hearts are lost and broken

two eyes cry tear drops in the rain

Two eyes grieve as love passed by

life will never be the same

Two eyes center two dark circles

the bull’s eyes tell tale soul

Two lashes blink and signal

a twinkle dullness glow

Two eyes vividness whispers

lit up by hopeful souls

Two eyes wept in silence

where emotions tear drops unfold

Two blind eyes gaze at dark mysteries

with their candles burning bright

Two crystal clear eyes clarify miseries

if one could only see dim light

Two eyes reached out from darkness

Two eyes now mirror burning candles light

  Two eyes tear drops dry while quietness speaks   

hopes of four eyes glow in burning candle bright

When two eyes are lost and lonely

two eyes are better than none

With eyes wide open shine on… reflect the candles light

that’s what all eyes are born to do…Shine on bright…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Wispy Crescent Kaleidoscope Skies

A poem by Harlon Rivers

Wispy  Crescent  Kaleidoscope Skies

Dragon flies hover, drift and dart

in the sultry summer evening sky

Suspended, tired and spent, from their long days reality

Floating, exhausted by the season’s sweltering heat

As color transforms sundown into twilight,

a backdrop of wispy strands

of lavender and pink cirrus clouds

grace the evening sky

Swirling currents blend miles high

painting distinct mares’ tail crescents

gliding towards the setting sun

Their curled tufts seem to drift

westward with the sun,

veiling the distant visible horizon

where the coastal mountains

form the breasts and lovely silhouette

of a sleeping lady

Above the orange and purple skyline

thin crescent arches visibly exchange colors,

like curling locks of kaleidoscope colored hair,

Gently floating peacefully

towards the mystic sunset

Each illusion’s image stirred ever so slowly

by the rare but gentle

eastern summer breeze

The vertical concave cirrus bows

adorn infinite tinted wispy curves

Emerging as if their mirage

were ready to be swilled like a fine wine

Stemware overflowing with blossoming fragrances

intensifying across the lip

with the multicolored glowing

Rose’ horizon evolving into

the Bordeaux of dusk

Burgundy starlit darkness

transcends wisps of dream light into twilight

while the sun slowly  sinks

blending into the union

of heaven and earth

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Sentimental Summer Sounds

The Great Horned Owls were silenced by the aura of vivid human sentimental emotions transcending the nighttime air...

A Poem by Harlon Rivers

The Great Horned Owls hoot on for hours

breaking the silence of a cloudy and humid summer night.  

The windows to the outside world are wide open

allowing the sweetness of the firs and pines fragrance 

to permeate the stale, sultry bedroom air. 

The conversation between the owls

sounds like a long distance phone call

in which time pauses between 

the short awkward sentences. 
"hoohoohoo hoohoohoo hoo"

One sounds as if she was in the next room.

As their unique poignant chatter

echoes off the giant trees,

the other stranger in the distance
seems to be a country mile away.

He answers her questions willingly

from the stillness of his roost, 
on the other side of the draw

His nocturnal call resonates  up the treed hill,
overlooking the rippling brook,

as it enters the emerald rock dammed pond 

of cool, crystal clear, spring water. 

From the north, beyond the crest of the hill,

a new sound is heard in the night’s darkness,

hushing the flirtatious owls lullaby.

It is the sound of the distant trains in the valley

speeding though the night on the infinite rails.  

From this lonely audible vantage point,

I once again count crossing horn blasts like sheep 

The first whistles are barely heard from a great distance

evolving into undeniable peaceful solitude ending,

dream ruining, ruminating noise.

Finally fading into the night air, like a distant memory

Silence is restored after 28 horn blasts 
warn all creatures and mankind

that the train from somewhere passed in the night

Traversing seemingly infinite tracks

crossing great physical and cultural distances

Defining an unfamiliar journey

towards unknown destinations. 
 

The Great Horned Owls were then silenced by the aura

of vivid human sentimental emotions

transcending the nighttime air

Enigmatic silent reverie quieted their lost moment

of intimate organic vocal exchange

I reminisced quietly in my mind

over that exact sound scenario’s feeling of déjà vu

Slipping into a dream knowing I've been here before... 

Remembering our time together... 

As you lie next to me

with only a musky cotton sheet

partially covering your sleeping beauty

while listening to the silence,

broken by the wonders of nature.

I watched you countless times

content to be in the moment

I relished the melody of your sensual

exhaled breath as you slept.

Willingly, I silently counted 

Owls and trains... contemplating

the loss of this moment in my mind. 

While imagining your peaceful slumber,

 once again I feel you close to me.

As I closed my eyes

I watched the trains refection 
of the  dawning red sky 

as you boarded that train.

Left here behind, with these roots grounded

in the bed rock of my history,

I watched as you disappeared 

into the distant horizon

I could hear the fading whistle

at some far-away crossing

of the infinite rails

traveling towards unknown 

final destinations…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

The Last Words Written

Now can you imagine writing your final chapter? When epitaphic thoughts came out of nowhere... Written by a black sheep before the final dawn...My personal battle with writing and feeling blocked...

A Poem by Harlon Rivers

Did you always believe time would go on forever?

Spending it like endless fool's gold

There would always be enough time for rewrites

To go back and edit what and where life went wrong

Now you can imagine writing your final chapter...

Did you ever imagine you’d ever write that last closing song?

After epitaphic thoughts came out of nowhere

Leaving the feeling of being a black sheep left out of the fold

Here and now silent reflections, of penning that final ending poem, are written

Is it really darkest before the dawn?

In the final hour will the truth finally expose itself?

Exhaling ultimate peace as the last words spoken fall onto the paper 

With the amazing grace of an eternal song

At the end of the day did the flow really matter?

Was it hard to find that final everlasting phrase?

All of a sudden did you realize?

It was only a fleeting fantasy moment out of the circle of life 

before the final setting sun

In the end do you still feel insignificant?

Did you receive the understanding you felt you deserved?

As your words fell short of expressing unexplainable emotions

Did the words move mystic mountains or only a vision in your rear-view mirror?

Had you already vanished but your soul just wouldn’t let you go?

Stop trying to see a mirage and just walk away from an ambiguous dream

Understanding the missing moments were a vague yet precious notion

Lost hope finally ended the day

There was a conscious moment that it all seemed so crystal-clear

Definite was only ego’s mind made illusion’s word

At a time when it felt like that long awaited moment

Someday, finally actually belonging somewhere, was here

Life's ebb and flow marks the tides of change

The ocean's mirror reflects the slack tide of the vast sea's flood of currents pause 

Reality in motion flows in new directions

Now that a full circle ends to begin again

Into the light at the end of the journey

Into the dark night at the end of the day

Will the last breathe of the lonely writer ever be remembered?

When the curtain falls on the last act of the final play…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Actions Louder Than Words

A poem by Harlon Rivers

Lost expectations

in the formative years  

cast faceless impressions

of difficult new beginnings

into figurines perched on

the chess board

of a lifetime

Faded indelible words

were read out loud,

found within and between

someday’s lines

Banished by a jury of peers

for rumored emotional turbulence

Invisibly eternally tattooed

on the outside of the mask

of my mind.

Branded and scared 

by the poignant white hot iron

of embedded forgotten fears. 

Anyone who had a heart

knows what will be will be…

When you think

you have it all?

You have it all to loose…

What matters is found

scattered among the words

within the lines’ of the heart’s

myriad of sentiment sung

Impassioned spirit

adorns the essence

of kindred hearts and souls

Volumes of evocative

poetic descriptions sketch

define and implement

hopeful deeds of kindness

Verbs written over time

can fade as if they were

evaporating tear drops 

Actual essence moves

dimensions of thoughts

miles of space…

Words left unspoken

only tentatively exist

while traveling

this journey of miles…

Unspoken reflections 

carried as baggage

Silenced within insecure moments

Words emotionally summoned

yet left unspoken

vanish like dust in the wind

Actions stir emotions of the soul…

The sounds of actions breaking silence

remind you of foot steps walking a mile.

Inaction is silenced by raucous verbs

Their rhythm is the beat of effort

Music to an empathetic soul’s ears…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Waiting for Sunset’s Rain

A Poem by Harlon Rivers

The anxiety of "Medical Limbo"

Time seems to stand still

while awaiting the moments anticipated news   

The mysteries of biology

The known weaknesses of the flesh  

Worrisome visions

that toy within fears

genetic foregone conclusions

that manifest as stress

The hope of new tomorrow’s

New moments dawning light

Thoughts of the circle

reaching the inevitable end of the song

A silent prayer for acceptance

for the things we cannot change

Courage to fight on for all life 

that remains as hope retains faith

Nothing is inevitable

as long as you want to breathe

You can’t stop the dreamer

from weaving the happiest

of unfulfilled dreams

Knowing completely you can’t stop

a runaway freight train

if the circle's tracks are complete

Physical trials and tribulations

bring you to your mortal knees

The angst of the vast unknown

Trepidation’s shadow is near

Life passes before

tearful yearning eyes,

lost in misunderstood confusion,

as realities uncertainty transcends fear

The final dream…

The only wish…

To not leave this world alone

To merge two passionate loving souls as one

Romantics dreams can come true

Unconditionally, wholeheartedly

together as one

before the merry-go-round’s

final setting sun… 

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Keep Your Secrets Hidden

A poem by Harlon Rivers

Keep your secrets hidden
Held tightly in some old poetry book
upon the bottom shelves’ discreet disguise
The memories of the places
remembered in my life and times,
are in a dusty old wooden music box
behind some back corner closet door

Our tarnished fading memory of
that passionate night in New Orleans ;
remains as an adoring moments Polaroid ,
taped on in black and white
A tattered frozen moment

hidden by the inscriptions

of our romantic felicity carved in wood
Faded photographs and black silk scarves
now cover the ornately whittled box
like an elegant party dress
that once feel off onto
the cracked tile floor

Offering a gift of love
means asking for nothing in return
I gave you my heart
You couldn't grasp my healing soul
A wounded spirit vanished with the dawn
disappearing from within the shadows

seen from the corner of your dark eyes
Abandoned as if it were the petals
of a dried blood red rose ,
pressed and preserved ,
between the tattered pages
of favorite forgotten prose

Memories of your missing breath’s
subtle hints are found here,
there and everywhere dreams flow
All that remains in hand
is a broken wing and a prayer
You had to know I needed you
more than you could ever take
You had to know I loved you
More than you will ever know…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Am I Still Crawling?

Here is an example of my writing in this prose poem...The journey of when things go wrong in relationships…The emotional aftermath of picking up the pieces and moving on…

Feel free to comment and share ideas if you feel any emotional connection to this piece...Thanks for reading!

Am I Still Crawling?

The beginning was

over before the start…

It was daunting how she could read

my reflection, in the still waters,

like the book of the stormy seas of my mind

It is said that “still waters run deep”

Is my soul’s estuary a shallow and barren desert?

With imperfections glaring?

Have the depths of my soul

reached for the lighted surface

only to evaporate into thin air?

Wanting to feel understood

is a reflection of my heart

and yet I feel the need

to harbor, savor… selfishly

dark, undiscoverable traits...

Am I, one heart only lying to my mind?

As if I was not whole?

Four separated distinct parts…

These hands adorn the quill of

the head, the heart, body and soul...

Without synchronicity,

am I only an illusion of wholeness?

After carefully considering

my reflections in the mirror of her eyes,

a panic fell like a dark fog

blocking the vision into the book of my mind

Backed up against the corner wall,

I felt like running from my mind made cage,

ball and chain in tow

in this realization of the moment...

If… “Am I ? ” ... is the question?

Four separated, detached pieces is the answer…

I’ve been fooling myself all the while

Walking

away seemed better

than running…

Crawling away

on my hands and knees

seemed unfair.…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Stormy Seas

Stormy Seas...a poem by Harlon Rivers

At times we feel trapped and stuck in a moment we cannot get out of…The feeling of lost hope and our struggle to fight off difficult times, feeling alone yet afraid to ask for help. 

A storm is raging on the frothy sea
Mountainous waves toss the vessel to and fro
The ravaging Nor'easter wind impales with a deafening blow
Raucous salty sheets of spray soak and dampen all around

A bucket bails the raged sloop
She moans and groans as she’s flung about
A sailor sails. A sailor endlessly bails
Alone in the perfect storm

Two oars are manned on the stormy seas
The halyard torn and ripped from mast
To row and bail is an impossible feat
It’s hard to tell when you’ve sprung a fateful leak

The captain mans the forlorn skiff
Traditions sink down with the ship
His furious soul laments life’s toil
As violent waves crash the gunnels hold

He screamed out loud, “My time has come!”
“My ship is sinking, her broken pieces will not be found!”
The rampart boat, well fortified yet built to fail
Plummets from hills of water pitifully tall

Cracks are leaking where the lurid light gets in
But so does the water, will drowning soon begin?
Lost hope floats the helpless, fearless one man crew
His soul now guides his ship

A vessel drifts lifeless on the empty calming sea
Nothing but it can be seen for miles of skies
The free board is deep the salty water high
Two apathetic oars both silent, is a lost soul inside?

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Memorizing the Dust Storm

"Memorizing the Dust Storm"....following your heart
no matter which way the wind is blowing.

A poem by Harlon Rivers 

Left behind, dazed and confused, fading memories of steps taken abate focus

Ambiguous blinding passage through the reeling dust storm

Bread crumbs left behind are meaningless subterfuge, as chronicled direction falters

Vanishing with the dust of the helter skelter reeling wind

All direction is lost, past tracks permanently erased like dust in the wind

The nebulous pathway left perplexing and undefined

There is no going back when all steps in all directions are either

forwards or backwards… yet all in a same unfamiliar direction

While navigating passageway through the blinding dust storm,

the traveler envisions sensations of wandering through obscurity

Crawling blindfolded through an ancient unknown labyrinth

Strictly running on the faith of natural instincts

Crossroads are passed in darkness in fleeting moments

Ignored without even the slightest inclination they existed 

Spontaneous instinctual recognition denied when grasped for direction…

Lost in a maze of fogged obscurity

Emotional thoughts dizzied and whirling

As if the mind’s broken compass needle

were spinning in a magnetic dust funnel

Rendered aswoon by the startling intermittent silence

Impaired by bewildered confusion

Vertigo sensations of disequilibrium

Stumbling, tripping, falling, bruised, exhausted and crawling

And yet lifted up by the spirit from within

The impassioned survivor's soul embraces the fervent unfinished life… 

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

Introspective Thinking

 "Details of self-examination...Under the microscope of hope...Carefully probing...The imaging within the soul "

 

A Poem by © 2012 Harlon Rivers

Impossible journey

Introspection of life

Processed in the mirror

In search of self- guiding light

Details of self-examination

Under the microscope of hope

Carefully probing

Emotional imaging within the soul

A picture in implicit detail

Revelation of life

Anticipation of worthiness

Wholehearted dignity in sight

Depth of humility,

Honest deliberation

Of humanity inspires

A jury of its peers

In a moment of significance

One moment changes everything

Let impassioned soul’s conscience

be the conscious moment’s

lustrous guiding light

Introspective thinking

Is a soul's radiant white light

Illuminating transparent understanding

Evocative glowing  thoughts

Transcending all doubts hindsight

© 2012 Harlon Rivers