You're present when I hear this song.
As if the moment in time and unknown
One hears the sound of water that you hold so dear.
Washing away regret and all that you fear.
Its rhythm flows across tired thresholds to level time.
As you ebb from your story's past and aspire to climb.
Its tempo is upbeat, strong, and urgent.
Just as your gift to others becomes more evident and fluent.
Its tone is carefree, deep and abundant.
Just as your voice reveals its depth
and your view shows its vibrance
onto its own.
The song takes its time to bring us through.
As you savor moments
C. . .
I hope you
like this song,
Oh, I hope I got it right.
I felt your presence,
heard this song,
wrote this poem,
Not the way you touch my hand so lightly as you speak.
Not the way your eyes ooze into my will.
Oh no, Not that.
Not the way you breath so softly as you sleep.
I cozy up to your face on the pillow savor every breath.
Silently I yearn to share every essence of you.
Not your mouth.your lips that quiver with anticipation
as I draw you close to me. a preamble of what is to be
unspeakable pleasure your eyes twin abysses.
Oh no. Please speak a word. any word.
Now my darling for every whisper is a symphony.
a treasure like no other.Each more priceless than the other.
Your hands were made to hold my heart forever and no other.
Slender fingers serpentine. to slither and caress. Oh sweetheart
My love My dearest your hips they sway a pulsing rhythm that I can
hear, a bossa nova.Cool and warm is your charm.
Have I not loved before?
Clearly,This way is like no other.
I lay awake on endless nights and shudder.
Wipe the silent tears away.Mourn the day
when I have lost your way to another.
I do so love you.
develop taste, rather;
Forgotten are the pleas
to temper the dawn.
Even as the night lays silent
there are echoes,
the rhythmic thrum of time.
Carried forth are the quiet souls of man
from the ebbing shores born of passing moments
toward the twilight of the flickering flame.
And land ye yet to the moors of shadow,
that evanescence of the living breath
For on its banks grow the roots of the Bodhi
whose branches bore the seeds for the Garden,
and its leaves are as shelter for the Spark.
Thus we bear the gaze of the boatman,
the cloak'd Moirai who guides the clocks,
as it is best to take the lilting petals
upon the tongue
This poem was my attempt to confront religious mythos with empathy and compassion with it's role weighing against what I've come to interpret as the base human fear of existential meaninglessness. I use the Bodhi tree, which was the tree under which the Buddha was said to have attained enlightenment, to symbolize the growth of experience that one seeds at birth and nurtures throughout their life, as well as across generations through tradition and written histories of both myth and documented fact. The reference to Eden as a product of the Bodhi was my attempt at conveying this sense of intellectual transference. I hope that one would also feel that this is a nod of respect to religion and myth as tools for guidance on our journey of human progress in the face of a sometimes harsh and relentlessly unforgiving life (as I for one feel it certainly can). The Bodhi's leaves symbolize the nature of inspiration and enlightenment as a manner of creating purpose for life or existence and sheltering our sanity from a vast impartial cosmos, such that it is. I wanted express the beauty and refined grace that sentient thought could bear forth in such rich and unique contexts for living. That even in the face of senseless oblivion (or any of the other endless variations on this theme) we could savor the rare and delicate gift of awareness for what it is, in addition to what it is a part of, whatever or where ever that may actually be.
I hope you enjoyed. This one came from the soul.
Copyright ©2010-2013 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved
The coyotes’ wail shall
never again paint
a yellow moon so full
or tint its deep
pearlescent sheen so blue
Natural ambient elements
serenade the moon and stars
A plethora of all heightened senses
savor every sparkle
in midnight’s near and far
There may never be
another magical moment
sung exactly like the untamed timbre
bemoaned through these trees
Celestial incandescence reflects
the sky’s mystical mosaic’s afterglow;
transcendent resonance ricochets
from the angelic lily white petals
The native dogwood’s flowers
draw down the night sky’s radiant montage
Scattering a natural luminescent palette
as they sparkle with the twinkle of the stars
The coyote’s medley of mournful laments
echoes the moment’s budding essence
adorning the blossoming dogwood's bouquet ;
it’s natural enchanting ambiance
graces the awakening spring ,
within in the moonlit woods…
© 2013 ... Harlon Rivers
If I could write my way to your side, I would.
I would pen my lips in soft whispers across your skin.
My fingertips would persuade you with every unspoken sentence.
The stammering of my heart on your mind-
Imprinting each and every black and white intention in your thoughts forever.
Each syllable of my trembling voice whispering in your ear, pleading with you.
I would caress you with my words.
They would flow like water;
swiftly, easily, further and further into unknown.
Faster and faster into this vast ocean;
Page after page of sweet nothing's...
I've captured your soul.
I own your mind.
Now watch me.
Watch as I tease at the plot.
Context clue, after clue:
Never enough to guess at the weight of the climactic end.
I will leave you in constant debate.
A metal war within yourself.
Do you skip ahead to satisfy your impatience?
Or savor every detail until the heart throbbing conclusion?
Can you wait for it?
Can you handle it?
As the earth falls away beneath us,
Can you hold on to me, my love?
Don't let go.
Not yet, my dear.
Clutch the covers and tug the spine,
Let the final words wash over us fully,
Satisfied, relieved... Perfect.
Such a sweet ending.
Now collapse in bed with me, and recall our story.
Touch the paper gently,
And reflect on everything I've shared with you.
Sleep, and dream of me.
Wake and think of me.
And when you find you miss me,
Read this again
Those beautiful green eyes glance at me
And meet my gaze in the almost darkness
A comfort so novel yet so familiar
Settles into my chest.
Your bronze skin intensified,
Your hand slowly traveling across my thigh
Sends shivers down my leg guided by your hand
And I savor the moment,
Because soon I’ll be heading home alone
Wishing I could stay but we both know he’s waiting
And I can’t bring myself to deceive him
But this unwanted thought interrupts,
As you maneuver my chin closer
And you lean in forcefully, kiss me madly
Passion searing through your lips, your tongue,
Your scent imprints my clothes, unforgettable
Then you lift up my shirt, a cold hand on my stomach.
Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me stop you.
I gather all my strength, weak from your spell
And I stop your hand from ascending further.
Your eyes depict hatred - no - disappointment.
You don't want this more than me - I swear.
See, all guys like you have great potential.
You can make a girl fall in love with just a snap of your fingers,
But you always choose to shatter the fairy tale
With a hand that reaches too far.
Nearing night, lovelorn evening sky blushes, turns crimson.
Her face, brushing his, trembles with uncontrollable passion.
The sea, clearly is impatient, descending sun so expectant.
Her lips inches closer, his passionate heart is ebullient.
The heaving burden of night, weighs gently upon earth,
The sands of the beach, give way to her lithe body's weight.
Together they savor the wonder, that single moment brings.
I’ve been expecting you.
I’ve waited an eternity.
I will now tell you things
I will tell you things I will do
Things I will do to you
Are you curious to know what they are?
You should be.
As I am curious to know
What compelled you to come here?
Everything in your conscious told you to stay away.
Yet, you are here.
Your friends warned you
But, you are here
Your nagging doubts, your conflicting reasoning all point to something else
Alas, you are here
And I can’t seem to understand why.
You know what I am.
I am an unconventional socialite of the most diabolic kind
I feed off the likes of you.
The sweet, tangible nectarine of modern serenity
The soft, lavender of incorruptible virtues
The delicate outer skin of savory delectability
My mouth waters at the very thought of you
I salivate with the very presence of you
I can feel my blood rush
My hands shake with anticipation
Let my touch
You don’t deny it
Because you long for it
You long for me to trace your lips with my fingertips
To suckle the flesh drops of your ears
To familiarize my hands with your supple body
To show you the darker side of forbidden passion
To welcome you into the bounty of vicious coitus
And depraved, animistic cunnilingus
And deep recessive fellatio
And blood constricted battering
With lines and whips
And wicked shadows lurking in the room
Watching us as we display the ungodly exhibition
Of your forbidden desires
For me to savor the swelling peach of your pubic fruit.
This is for you.
Even as you proclaim your goodness to others
You have a side of your personality that demands unsuppressed copulation.
And why do you need this?
Why do you need me?
I can see it in your eyes.
It was because people in another world told you to hide your womanhood
To despise you sexuality
For it will make you weak
What was your story behind your frailty?
It could have been the close-minded parents of the old age, who never tried to think for themselves; only allowing others with higher knowledge to justify their old-fashioned morals.
The life you saw through popular culture and mind-altering media. The problem with pop cultivation is that is follows the wave lengths of susceptible hosts: the average, everyday citizens that “trust” the outside word; that “trust” what is said to them through dystopian and totalitarian subtleties.
You didn’t know better.
But you could tell it wasn’t right
How is it that a young child can truly know what is right and what is wrong
More so than the misconceived adults?
Because simplicity is key to filtering the complex
Now what does this have to deal with you sexuality
Because unless you do what is only natural for you to do, others will tell you what you should do.
Now, you embrace your emerging fruition.
As my tongue slithers around your sensitive clit
My fingers stretch and penetrate your wanting organ
Is your chance
Overpower the host before you
It is a test
Your daunting task ahead is to overthrow the embellishment of your submission
Are you up to it?
We shall see.
The shadows on the walls are the ones that maimed you
Because they are:
Afraid of you
Intimated of you
Worried of you
Scared of you
Enticed by you
Infuriated by you
Aroused by you
Alarmed by you
Entranced by you
And pleasured by you
Could you be all and none of what I said?
You tell me
Whisper it in my ear
Now bite it
Use your teeth and swear it
Tear it and devour it
My creature of the night
My child of ritual
My servant to flesh
My master to skin
My all to this and none to that
The embodiment of lust
The being of now
And the beginning of the end.
Maybe we’ll see each other again.
they were already straight,
i just never noticed my posture before.
kept crawling along like
i knew the words i had been saying
had truth behind the meanings
soft swept by roads
when my feet slide
ink meant for
politics and money
i savor the taste
of meat i cooked
light and birds
and the music of morning
the vacant smell of cooked breakfast
the vacant feeling of love in general
meanwhile, my hands bright
with the prettiest blue veins.
i keep thinking of you,
still before the wake.
free from the shapes i was
about to reate
with my mouth,
and with my hands.
the absence of my breathe,
bouncing left, right as i keep
something i could never engineer.
i started placing new woods,
right at the boundaries
of my favorite memories.
exploring with my eyes wide,
and observing new friends
from flower to flower
to moss to and to puddle.
i’m trying dreaming
will not hit yet.