Cupid's Broken Arrow

Some things we learn so slowly... Some things we never learn... Some things we learn the hard way... The only way to survive a broken heart is to leave Cupid's broken arrow and hope it heals with a scar before it drips and drains all remaining life from your heart...

The spell was cast by memory

With the wanderlust of a rolling stone

Traces of broken dream’s dust and ashes

Fell like love cast out with a claustrophobic moan

A broken heart could not convince me

Every heart has not a home

 A lonely sailor, banished, cast out for the final voyage

Into a world without an island to feel a tranquil peace

Born of mother earth, into a race where faded memories were erased

Journeying out into an unknown raging sea, before learning to walk the land

Dreams of some lost abandoned safe haven, an illusion

Welcoming shorelines were never discovered by this soulful man

A world where what’s lost is rarely found

Where square pegs never fit the round 

When the die is cast from molten life

It cools and forms flesh and bone

Insignificance, abandoned, left feeling like a heart without a home

In the end the faded memory is chiseled and scribed on some forgotten mossy stone.

In a distance I hear the eerie silence

The ship's final soul has sailed on a windless sea

Drifting infinite fathoms, the icon of a loveless being, another random lifetime lived, 
like a lonely sunken ship of treasures, lost in the darkness undersea.

I’ll walk another endless mile always knowing,

there will never be a home for my heart in the world ahead of me.

Reborn into a world where every passing thought becomes a fading dream

Love may be the last gasping breath left unbreathed

Belonging is a walking contradiction of my self esteem

Oh! heart and soul be set free...

Exhausted and weary of struggles, forsaken by gravity

No longer resisting the absolute surrender, the final choice that sets your soul free...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers… September 27th, 2012

Final Sunday Silence

Final Sunday Silence

As I search for the light

In this too familiar room

The darkness won't let me

Find the switch I assumed

I feel for the walls

That confine this lurid space

They seem so distant

Too often I feel misplaced

Where is that cracked door

Where the light gets in?

I know I have found it here before

Lurking in the shadows naively veiled by sin

As darkness consumes me

I feel for my soul

Am I back here again?

In the darkest of holes?

The room is so chilling here

As a candle’s flicker dims

It’s wick so very short now

That all wax is consumed

This once was a sanctuary

With people who cared

A refuge for the hopeless

Who willingly shared

The stench of haunting silence

Now deafens my mind

A journey’s full circle now,

As a faded memory preys on what’s left behind…

Where once there was love

Darkness and eerie silence fills the air

A stone cold feeling overwhelms me

Knowing love can vanish without warning…

Disappearing… into thin air~

Harlon Rivers…Sunday, February 13th, 2011

Cleansing Rain

...waiting for the pending winds of change to blow the storm clouds past... 

A long awaited metamorphosis... from the author of 

Word Whisperer...

Look up and breathe as the crying sky explodes

Inhale natures’ showering unblemished symphony

The oppressive black cloud hanging overhead lingers

Emotions ebb and flow with the moment’s immanent spirit of light

A freeing sensation excites anticipation

of the sky’s pending fated purposeful release

Heavens… flood down in a drenching act of baptism

by a merciful drowning in the river of celestial tears

Torrential rains wash over me like a cleansing rain

Cleanse the dust and ashes of the abandoned frozen traces

What once was a blossoming presence,

Evolved into a foggy cold winter season

Now all that remains is but a shadow of what once was,

Life was nearly eroded away by the years of fallen tears

Rinse away unrequited love’s stagnant inversion

Washing away the invisible chains that bind

To the loathsome heavy ball

Of an unforgiving past

Know the cleansing rain is the spirit of love

Washing over an exhausted heart of soul 

Left exposed and naked to the world

Look out with thoughtful eyes into the universe

Never stop believing the dream is eternal

Envision the clouds in the dark sky parting

As all that awakening light comes shining through

Renewing the promise that surrendering to love, 
shall be destiny’s purpose...

Harlon Rivers...December 10th, 2012

John Lennon ...Stand by me

Destiny or Merciful Surrender

This piece is a tribute to a life lived that could no longer be saved… It has taken a few years to write something about someone I did not know until our fated intersection, that day at the river…A cathartic attempt to walk a mile in another’s shoes.  Sometimes our life changes so quickly we don’t really even comprehend how drastically a moment changes everything.

...a free form narrative prose poem by Harlon Rivers

Destiny or Merciful Surrender

Standing on the edge of a cliff,
Dark circled eyes span the distant horizon
Visible signs of an unsettled agony
trembles from within the skin's surface
Racing thoughts suffer in search
for glimmers of hope’s shining light,
All the while trying to gain focus
through the distracting fog and haze
of the inevitable price to be paid.
Thoughts of waiting here forever wane
as this haunting loneliness, won’t leave me alone

Struggling for balance,
Teetering on the brink of gracious surrender.
Notions of ever belonging faded
with the final concluding memories;
That fated moment when the last rumination
of physical human touch vanished
like a smoldering wick without wax
Smoke rings rising to dissipate,
disappearing into an untouchable dream...

Never really understanding
whether destiny carved the pathway
of the long and twisting road
leading to this defining crossroad
Or is it the preordained instant of forgiving surrender,
Doomed from the very beginning…
There were many rivers to cross
since the age of innocence
Jumping off cliffs with the faith to fly like a bird,
soaring into the great abyss.

 
Now frozen in an awkward moment
of confused trepidation
Daunting indecision overwhelms distorted perception
Essence… praying to the spirits of the universe
for the strength to understand the  nebulous lines
between destiny and merciful surrender.
Asking for the strength to accept
that which cannot be changed

At the cusp, high above
a waiting river too wide to cross…
Rolling out to sea…
on the way back to where I started
Physically too tired to reach
for another unknown distant shoreline.
Love is a river of tears
better crossed when you’re young…
“Its only water, I want it washing over me,
Washing over me”…

Soul Equilibrium

...a "Soul Journey" poem by Harlon Rivers

Glass half empty glass half full

The teeter totter goes up and down

Once left on a high wire balancing act

Falling helter skelter to the ground,

Vanishing without a trace… a safety net was ever found

Twin pan balancing scale

An icon that deliberates lost souls

Counterweight balancing scale weighs,

Which heart bares a heavier load?

When we’re young or when we grow old?

Pendulum swings to and fro

Balanced by continuum time

Pivot centers symmetry

Each gentle pendulum’s swing

Measures the rhythm of time

Seesaw ride goes up and down

Equilibrium in a paradox disguise

Opposite matching pairs balance

Steadiness lost … stability is found

While standing on uneven ground

Sense of balance resembles life’s emotions

Just look around, you’ll see

This long road we have traveled

Sometimes uphill … sometimes down

This journey is the destination until the final setting sun

Someday over the rainbow

We’ll know the reasons why

Glass half empty … glass half full?

Half of whole is twice as good

Symmetry of balance, keeps hope alive

While believing life’s cup

Feels nearly half empty

Come and fill it full to the brim

When this roller coaster ride brings you down

Look up for brightness shining down

When the seesaw’s drop

Brings you to your knees

Don’t surrender to gravity

Imagine a sense of balance

You will not drown…

Gravity will pull you down

Inertia of motion helps you fly

While this journey fluctuates

Pursue the conscious need for balance

Its how the heart and soul survives

© 2012 Harlon Rivers 

vocal chimera

... a poem by Harlon Rivers... from the Whispering Moon Beams poetry blog ~

... understand this moment has come to just write what you feel… don’t ever let anyone say what you believe you feel is wrong ~

... calling out my name

from the far off distance,

an enchanting  tone of voice

came to me in a dream ...

what if I was heard from another realm?

my soul screaming 

into the silence of the night?

... answering just wouldn't matter

when there is no one listening …

... awakened …

by a throaty voice

breaking the silence of slumber

... quietly standing tall

unable to escape from  a dream

that’s already come and gone …

... believing in something hard enough

does not make it true

ignorance of some portion of the truth

only makes you slightly aware

no matter how crystal clear

the vivid truth becomes…

whether you are taking

the placebo or the medication

... perception heals all wounds

answering rhetorical questions out loud

left me alone at dawn

stranded like a black sheep

banished from the fold …

... questions aren't really questions

when the answers are already known

misunderstanding the literal

erroneously innocent out of unawareness

seems like getting lost
taking the wrong road home ...

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

A Long Way Inward

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

A Long Way Within

It’s a long way across rivers wide

A lifetime from shore to rocky shoal

It’s difficult to envision that the earth is turning round

While leering blindly, lost in the womb of time

It’s been a long way from way back then to here and now

An unfinished journey from the cradle to the grave

When the mind can’t see tomorrow,

The stars won’t guide you home

It’s a long march up the proverbial hill

A long way across to other distant rock-strewn spires

The possibilities are vast and yet the pathway is unknown

It’s a long mile to carry the weight of that load

The road is long since the embryo of the dawn

Over the hills and far away

Glowing light at the end of the tunnel remains undefined

Until you take that final imminent earthly stride headed home

We’ll never ascend to the highest mountain peaks

Through faithless, fleeting stabs in the dark

Standing on the brink of a precipice

Just a step away leaves one hanging by a thread

There’s a distinct ulterior boundary wall

Looming in the vista beyond

Patient perception unveils the cosmic distance

Witnessing the sphere of life's evolution, through the spirit from within…

© 2012 Harlon Rivers

...Hypothetical Scrutiny...

It has been said;    “In the final analysis,” as if there were one distinctive defining moment, that all musings of theoretical truth are finally revealed...Breach the damn that holds back consciousness.  Let thoughts flow freely...

A Poem by © Harlon Rivers 2012

It has been said...

“In the final analysis”

as if there were one distinctive

defining moment, that all musings

of theoretical truth are finally revealed



Only an imaginary score card has been keep

by some unseen score keeper

to be tallied at a final definitive, 

yet unknown moment 



The long passage across life’s ocean

is only a process to an ending chapter of an infinite journey

Finally reaching that distant opposite shoreline

stepping out… into other side's new beginning



One can only speculate

though philosophical scrutiny.

Judgments of provisional ideals

are heard from every corner of the planet



Is personal soul searching self-appraisal

or nothing more than narcissistic conceit?

Or could it be the process of an evolution

of our spirits that gives life meaning and reveals purpose?



To wholeheartedly become who we are in the moment

Acceptance no matter who or what that may be

The quest for precise definition too exact

for any other human being

other than our own spirit to comprehend



The epic, complex magnitude

of our intricate existence

A final accepting personal valuation

could be a definitive moment

of conscious enlightenment



Mere theoretical truth-seeking

an unproven idealistic

interim possibility

...Hypothetical Scrutiny...

"Flight of the Red Breasted Robin"

The Mountain Ash grove is always a fascinating spectacle in the fall…After watching for several days…recording the thoughts, mentally painting the picture for a sit down at the table, in the window with a pen and paper  tablet.   Today was the day for a 30 minute stream of natural consciousness in this narrative prose poem about a reoccurring seasonal fascination with the American Robin’s cycle of life…When I stop to ponder the irony, actually our circle of life is just as round…

 …a narrative prose poem by  © 2012 Harlon Rivers 

Hops and jumps are blurry motion across  the dewy meadow floor,

as the dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic

from the corner of sleepy eyes.

A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…

A hasty, halting, motionless freeze,
Stillness, as if some final destination had been reached…
  

Neck stretched and craning,

Tilted with an eye to mother earth.

With a focus beyond interruption.

In the blink of an eye, 
In a motion too rapid to capture,

the nowness of motion, flashes.  

She stretches the earthworm with the grasp of subsistence

knowing after fall comes the long winter.

The morning sun illuminates the glow of the Native Maple’s

glorious orange and yellow color palette.  

A steady stream of activity rushes in and out

of the giant tree’s golden splendor.

Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay. 

Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts

have left the red breasted robbers foraging

for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.

Harbingers of spring…

  

Blueberry sneakers…

  

Gleaners of fall and winter..

“Teeek”  “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep” fills the overhead air

The flock returns repeatedly to and from the towering Maple

to the ripened cornucopia of berry clusters of the Mountain Ash.

The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights.

Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear

as if it were only an illusion of the passing seasons.

The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop for the fickle fleeting migrants.

Daylight fades as the flock disappears into a break in the clouds

of the ominous pending winter sky…

In the blink of an eye...life’s seasons transform

The stormy whirling winds of change

carry the golden leave’s splendor across the rolling vista.

The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch

across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary.

Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins, arrive on a frosty new dawn

Red breast feathers puff with morning sun’s rays,

warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky.

Their journey here and now,
from distant mountainous horizons,

is part of this soul’s circle of life…

~Harlon Rivers October 23rd, 2012~

Memorizing the Dust Storm

A Poem by Harlon Rivers

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

Left behind, feeling 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 intuitive 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 vertiginous 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 wanderer envisions sensations of traveling through obscurity

Crawling blindfolded through an ancient unknown labyrinth

Strictly running on the faith of natural instincts for guidance 

Crossroads are passed in darkness in fleeting moments

Ignored without even the slightest inclination they existed 

Spontaneous instinctual recognition relied upon for direction

….Clarity Denied…

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

Swoon by the startling intermittent silence

Impaired by bewildered confusion

Vertigo sensations of disequilibrium

Stumbling, tripping, falling, bruised, exhausted and crawling

Breathless...and yet lifted up by the spirit from within

The impassioned soul of a fervent unfinished life… 

© 2012 Harlon Rivers