Where Teardrops Hit the Ground

Where Teardrops Hit the Ground

Each teardrop marks a forgotten pathway
Where the fading traces of the passing of love
stubbornly lingers
Memoirs of a whimsical serendipity circle back
through the overgrown, once well-trodden trail

Retracing the earlier steps taken from love’s higher ground;
ruminating the enraptured memories
flooding through the heart’s enchanting collage
Time is neither kind nor unkind,
when it’s misplaced somewhere between here and now

With the passage of time,
regret is her only companion
Missing pieces entangled with laments;
heartache entwined with unfulfilled needs

Wanting what was taken
far more than what is given
Searching for what is lost;
yet only discovering a hollow void too vast to fill
  
Compressed and preserved memories
once thrived within the pages
of love’s written reverie;
seeds sewn, budding genesis,
flourishing adore,
all nurtured in a garden of affection galore

A bouquet of pressed and dried rosebuds
has no memory
The sting of the prick from a thorny rose,
indelibly scars a yearning heart;
life trickles out with the pulse of each hidden sigh

Visible melancholy stains seep out

onto forgotten footprints,
evanescing like a piano’s notes decay,
mingling as the moment hesitates;
disappearing into the unkempt garden footpath
as if it were a dream that never happened

Fingertips delicately touch their tips in a quiet moment’s musing;
feeling for the vivid twinge of the dirt packed beneath my fingernails
Reflections of ever-present teardrops once hit the ground,
washing away your name scratched and carved  in dust
where the earth will ache forevermore...

©  2012~2013 … Harlon Rivers  …All Rights Reserved

“Unanswered Questions?”

“Unanswered Questions?”

How long before the final teardrop has fallen?
Will it take an immeasurable amount of time?
When will these eyes finally focus on the vision?
An unfinished dream lost in a fading final light?

When will your scent become that of another?
As a lost and forgotten fragrant memory subsides?
When will these lips taste past traces touch?
Have they become too parched from carnal denial?

Do endless raindrops ever stop falling?
Marking an end to a perfect storm?
Will the dark clouds part and open the heavens?
Let a ray of hope, at last come shining through?

In this moment the seas are ragging
Safe harbors  once lost remain unfound
Is “waiting here forever” idly watching the infinite seasons pass?
While raindrops taste like tears without the ache?

What is the agonizing sound moaned by a breaking heart?
A murmured sigh too deep for words?
Will it splinter as a weeping willow struck by lightening?
Or glass shattered onto the unforgiving rocky earth?

How can an aching heart keep on beating?
Does the throbbing emptiness gradually trickle out?
Then silently flowing as a river of tears?
Like the floods of the long winter’s rain?

Breathe in ~ Breathe out …Patiently …
Savor the essence of each bated breath
Inhale all of the vast mysteries
life’s unknown seasons unveil

How do you catch lightning in a bottle?
Darkness can wilt the crimson rose ~
When you don’t know what was found
Before it may have been lost …

©  2012~2013 … Harlon Rivers  …All Rights Reserved

Secret Place

Secret Place

There is a secret place you go
where no one can follow
A place to get what you want
but not what you need
 

Not knowing when you’re going
isn't like being left behind
It’s a place where only you
know what you’ll find
 

Sometimes when we’re together
you’re not near me
Sometimes there is a place
without me you’d rather be
 

Every time I think I've found
your heart’s magic labyrinth
There’s a light in your eyes that shines
from a secret place I can’t see
 

Your eyes glisten with the depth
of your spirit’s understanding
Trying to go there with you
has got me flying blind
 

I’ll just stay here watching
the river of time flow by quietly
Waiting patiently for your presence
to feel back at home with mine …
 

© Harlon Rivers ... February 17th, 2013
 

Minstrel of the Blue Moon

Penned on watermarked cotton paper, cursive letters script the words... Writing a song of love... 

Apollo and Daphne...John William Waterhouse

The Minstrel of the Blue Moon

Penned on watermarked cotton paper

Cursive letters script the words

of a surrendering rhythmic rhyme.

The ardent sonata was written

by the light of a Blue Moon’s shine

The blood red ink bled 

through the white wrinkled cotton pages

Musical notes dried by the warmth 
of glowing Moon Beams

in the subtle pollination breeze...

The maestro Coyote’s howl cried instinctively, 

eerily heard from the distant horizon, 

bringing lovers to their knees.

The words to the Cabernet Sauvignon

stained midnight  lullaby,

were emotions quilled,

blending an aura of 

organic colors...

The native maple trees 

flowering canopy of Spring

released dusty yellow pollen on the sheets

In a moment of rapturous intimacy ~

an elixir of intoxicating bliss 

illuminated the euphoric passionate moment

Untamed wildness savored,

Exhaled ecstasy 

released into a song of love …

That gentle melody still lingers

like hieroglyphics on the walls 

of some long lost abandoned cave

Engraved, etched and carved 

onto the brattice canvas

of a musical Minstrel’s 

melodic mind...

Watch the artiste’s finger’s 

prancing graceful ballet

Worn down catgut strings moan~

Crying out lustfully

The rhythms notes 

paint a masterpiece

in an infinite 

harmonious time...

The tempo’s lines

phrasing,

...hush...!

Listen to the pictures flow...

Listen to the weeping guitar strings
of the troubadour paint 
the metaphorical canvas scene.

The ebb and flow of their body’s rhythms

The Blue Moon’s hypnotic incandescence's,

while shadows dance all around

 Joyfully twirling, embracing

while blue bonnet lupine 

swirl and tango 

with the moonlit breeze.

Lilacs fragrant aroma in  springtime

Rekindles this fleeting memories recital

The Minstrel and the Minstrel’s song

now yearn to be set free ~ 

Timbre without reverberation  

This serenade was never written

by the Nightingale

A romantic moment’s sorrowful memory

abandoned forevermore ~

Unsung,  unsaid, unreleased, 

put to bed

through eternity…

The maestro Coyote 

is a wilderness troubadour

of the full moon’s delights.    

Howling soulfully...
wailing instinctively ~ 

...crying hopefully

mournfully grieving ~ 

the Minstrel’s cadenza ...

Love lost and found 

below 

the full Blue Moon’s 

glistening light…

© 2012 ... Harlon Rivers 

"Dreaming Out Loud"

...a chapter from The Word Whisperer

...Peaceful silence is exhaled in a sigh of unspoken sorrow...

Peaceful silence is exhaled

in a sigh of unspoken sorrow

Just a step away from love

Surrendering to unspoken thoughts

of a vanishing enchantment

 Dreaming out loud for the asking

Trying to bring back tomorrow

before the vivid dream

of dust to diamonds

no longer shines

Ungrounded surrender yields

to wanderlust tomorrows

Time won’t stand still to opine

While a rolling stone gathers no moss
rolling on through time

Love 's unearthed and nurtured significance
 buds in the garden of the heart and soul

Hope's blooms are rooted deeply within

the inner core of new beginnings

The spirit within our soul won't stand still

and watch the heart unravel

In the midst of quiet hesitation

Bewildered by over anxious, 
unrealistic emotional expectations

Dreaming recklessly out loud

of blossoming new beginnings,

An aching passion left me awake and stranded 
on the cotton sheets of dawn...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers ... July, 2012

Like a Man...Adam Cohen

Snow Covered Ashes

...a poem by Harlon Rivers

Snow Covered Ashes

the first dusting of snow

blankets the fall leaves

carpeting the Oak

and Maple grove floor.

a distinct vanguard

paints the imminent winter solstice.

daylight wanes…

now measured by moments

and melted candle wax

tick tock ~ tick tock ~ in the silence ~

passing time cannot be stopped

only the diminishing firewood pile

reminds that the passing season

of darkness is measured

by the ashes left behind

of what once was recognizable…

the warmth of the crackling fire,

the flickering glow hypnotizes

a vulnerable trance.

feeling a heart grow 
cold and dormant

as the changing season,

after such sublime awakenings ~

…eerie disappointment

…an unnatural sadness accompanies

the icy darkness of love's fading light.

as seasons change to winter,

a life without love

is a life without hope.

vanishing ever so slowly

like the snow covered

fallen and decomposing leaves

veiled by the imminent 
winter solstice…

Harlon Rivers…December 16th, 2012

Dave Matthews Band ~ If Only ~ Hollywood Bowl

Tantilized

...never closer than arms length and yet never out of mind… So close and yet so far away.

His heart beat like thunder,

When he dreamt about her smile

The words she wrote tantalized

A secret hurt in his heart

Hearing her soft spoken demure

Moving in the distant breeze,

Stirred an undeniable wanderlust

From restless worlds apart

He heard her voice call out his name ~

Her memory leads him on…



Harlon Rivers...December15th, 2012

Many Moons Pass...

many moons have come and gone

since the thought even crossed my mind

so many rivers have been crossed,

on this long and winding road

we've been walking on.

there were times when bridges were burning,

others ... swimming in breath taking turbulence,

to unknown shorelines

throwing caution like a child of the wind

flying like a feather with the breeze in a leap of faith~

hopefully crossing muddy waters

while trying to find the brighter side of darkness.

some things we learn so slow

...there comes a time…

… when there is needed time

for building bridges

to other hopeful respite

never intending to fall in love again

and yet believing that nothing is inevitable.

if love is the purpose of this journey

giving love is asking for nothing in return

surrendering to an undeniable,

preordained destiny...

Harlon Rivers December 5th, 2012

"Am I ?"

During our life's journey,  things go wrong in relationships when we least expect it…The emotional aftermath of picking up the pieces and moving on, lead to this poem written this past April … History repeats itself...On this day it is as real again as it ever was...

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 about 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 too many glaring imperfections ?

Have the depths of my soul

reached for the lighted surface

only to see hope evaporate into thin air?

Wanting to feel understood

is a reflection of my heart

and yet I feel the need to harbor, 

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 my own 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 as my biggest fears manifest

in the realization that our final  moment had come...

If… “Am I ? ” ... is the question?

Four separated, incongruent pieces is the answer…

I’ve been fooling myself all along

Walking

away seemed better

than running…

Crawling away

on my hands and knees

just seems unfair.…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

A Lifetime of Dreams

Is it loneliness or intuitive instinct that creates the desire to be held in a lover's grasp…unconditionally… eternally?    Yearning to completely surrender to love...There is no greater force than the hollow void  felt when you suspect you no longer ignite that special glow in your lovers heart.  Be the change you wish to see...

... a  poem by Harlon Rivers

My heart beats so loudly within my quivering chest

I look around to see if anyone else

notices the apparent body tremors

Their deafening sound over powers my emotions

A tempest of overwhelming loneliness

floods altered consciousness

I feel the earth moving beneath

the polished cut stone floor

Nervous tension is exhaled as a sigh

into the candlelit, perfume scented air

So thick you could cut it with a knife.

It seems as though the wine in my glass

moves mystically like the storming seas

as the glass stands untouched on the table.

Out of the corner of my glancing eyes,

lovers have embraced across the room

after a romantic passionate slow dance.

I did not look away

I feel visibly shaken and ashamed

for dreaming about their ardent moment

Sensuality awakened, raw yearning totally exposed,

my vulnerable demure is naked in full view

and yet reserved, shamelessly hungry

for love’s enchanting fusion

The trap was set and tripped

the voyeur the only victim uncovered

spellbound on the threshold of a my silent reverie

Lonely, feeling trapped,

awaiting the final merciful surrender to love…

“Oh love, your past memory leads me on

Set me free from the lingering seasons that haunt me

Unchain my unhealed heart

Heal the scars from the ties that bound me

Allow me to come alive again and drink from love’s cup.

Take me to your secret garden

Reveal,  sincerely,  your most intimate secrets

Inhale every breath of my heart and soul

Complete me… allowing us to thrive wholeheartedly,
abundantly living,  each and every precious moment spent together”…

Is it too much to dream to desire to be held infinitely?

As if there was no other soul to love in the universe?

Is it desperation that creates the desire

to be held in your lover's grasp?

…unconditionally… eternally

I will sacrifice all that is me

I will surrender a lifetime of dreams

To walk hand and hand

these final miles as one love…

Edited from a Word Whisperer publishing August © 2012 Harlon Rivers 

The Essence of Sweet Peas

a poem by Harlon Rivers...

“Dance at Bougival”  artist Pierre- Auguste Renoir 1882-1883

A Sweet Pea Minuet

An unrecognizable minuet plays mysteriously in the obscure distance

The hypnotic triple time notes have mesmerized vulnerable emotions

A subtle, yet familiar fragrant aroma

swirls in each breath of the gentle breeze ~

Enchanting harmony floating towards the fantasia of a vintage minuet

The closer I get … the more I realize it is you at last.

I inhale the tantalizing elixir of your sweet pea essence

Adoring your warm and gentle graceful elegance

as we drift and glide as if our dream’s seeds were planted

within the dream dust of my mind,

budding and blossoming in a glorious moment...

Surrendering all consciousness stepping off the threshold

into a dream of a 17th century vision of desire,

exhilarated by the passionate dance of two kindred souls.

The ashes of the forgotten, the broken dreams left behind,

have finally vanished like dust in the winds of time

The hazy mist of your angelic aura leaves me flushed,

spell bound and level with earth...

The anticipation of fresh dreams together

emerged in the dizzying haze of emotional surrender ~

The atmosphere swirled with the whirlwind of your presence;

magnetism of essence awakens,

intoxicating my heart

with your magical elixir of life.

I savored and sipped every enchanting drop

of the moments sacred nectar

Neither dream dust nor the Sandman can control

the destinies of our dreams or what the allure of hope holds

Willingly we spin with an uncontrollable yearning

As the minuet ends, the secrets of our love’s pirouette evolves

Its voluptuous swell is only the initial alluring dance

mesmerizing the blissful seeds of desire

sprouting in dream dust...

Interwoven French Braids

a poem by Harlon Rivers

Weave the threads of this life

into your life’s rich tapestry

Braid my true nature intimately

into your silky-smooth hair

as if it were a seamless interwoven strand

in a Classic French braid... adorning your grace

Unravel the threads of this beating heart

Entwine the fibers of this soul,

intertwining the very fabric of our spirits

Witness life evolving into an ornate,

interwoven tapestry of utopia,

as dreams blossom into fruition...

The warp and woof of two unfinished lives,

weaving underlying structure,

on which an infinite adore is built

into the quilted fabric 

of eternal love

Entangle me 

in your sticky, silken web

Desire the essence 

of these threads that bind

Run your fingers through my hair,

spinning a silken cocoon,

enveloping all of this nakedness

in a passionate embrace

Surrendering flesh and blood,

as naturally sown seeds

reap adoring, committed wholeness…

Love in the Eternal Now

a poem by Harlon Rivers

Lightning cracks 

with the thunder’s clap

Is the moment love overcomes

so vivid and poignant?

The blink of an eye

is an exact moment

Is the beginning of love so definite?

Would it be impossible to disguise?

The veils are opened

behind the curtain

Reveling a moment of awakening

Emotional conception transforms life

Will love have a beginning

that never ends?

Unconditional oneness

Sharing the eternal now…

Rain drops splash quietly one by one

filling the empty fountain to its rim

There will be a precise moment

when the final trickle overflows boundaries’ lip

Let this heart be that fountain

where birds sing, frolicking in new found bliss

Rain down on me

with your breathless tears of joy

Covet that final drop

that spills over the brim

The fountain of joyfulness

 is nearly filled

The wait has been long and exhausting..

Indulge in the awakening of intimate tenderness

Embrace the realization here

Now love is all…

A Quiet Demure

I won’t be a burden

Baggage stacked to the sky

I don’t need to be your world

You’d sense the reasons why

I don’t need to touch you

Just want to feel the motion of your twirl

I just want to sense your love

keeping real world hope alive 

Would I wish to want you?

You know the reasons why

Could I be your whole world?

Should I shyly run and hide?

Could I wait forever?

Even if I tried?

Just as a casual observer

Seen from the corner of your eyes

Won’t you come and wipe away

the many tears I’ve cried?

Must my heart stay broken?

Now that most of the fears have died?

Can’t you hear my heart beat?

Feel the rhythms of my love’s flow

I will wait forever here

just to feel your heart and soul…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers