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 Jun 2018
Sjr1000
The orchid is flowering
Opening,
a living mandala
Next to my bed
I hear it in my dreams
It's telling me very strange things
About the chemistry between us
And what being a flower really is
And what it really means.

There's a lot to learn.

The orchid whispers in chemical symbols

I danced through the night one night
I drank water in the desert
The sweetest taste, I've ever known
I heard a sound I've never heard before
The buzzing of Chi
Blowing in
while the curtains fluttered
In the night time wind.

Our time I know is limited
Forever wilts away

But while the orchid is flowering
That's for another day

I find myself longing for the scent of the night and at least
One more dream to go.
This came as a total surprise, 100%! Never expected. We all channel our internal poet, a conduit from within, dictated somehow. My experience at Hellopoetry has been life changing  and the community we are all apart of is truly a sacred circle, for that and this moment in time, I am grateful.
The poet, well, he's sleeping now, but I will pass it on when he awakens. Many thanks, to one and all, you continue to teach me what it means to be human and an artist in this world.
 Jun 2018
harlon rivers
I saw the sun steep
into the seascape ―
lonely as a drowning
    wave
         on still-waters

the dimming of the day
rescinding evanescent daylight                                                         ­         .
fading with the slack tide
         lost at sea ―
a gloaming moment
         let fall from
the remains of the day,
like some other passing
sea bird's molted feather
drifts away untamed

I sit silent as the driftwood
lingering at the watermark,
watching a random gust
    erase the footprints
of another recurring day, 
bearing abandoned memories
    and vacant heartbeats,
atrophied in the drifting sands

    and I see you walking
    towards the abating  
    midnight sunset ―
         but I know
    you're just a mirage;    
like the dimming afterglow
of so many waning moons
            elapsed
         
ever-changing tides grow low  
and promises made lightly  
         do ebb away
          
Scanning the distant horizon ―    
    a blindfold heart    
    mooning all at sea;
parsing a deserted shoreline,
    wondering if love
          is too late ,..
    to stem the tide ―


        harlon rivers

      30   May   2018
Note:   apologies for the inconsistent reading, posts and replies.  Internet access comes and goes out here off the grid.   Thank you for taking a look through the words― h.a. rivers

Chronological TRAVELOGUE collection:
9 of some more here; published & unlisted

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/27104/travelogue/
                                                                                                                     .
 May 2018
Traveler
Beyond these pages
I'm still alive
Raring to live
    Before I die...
At least another
Hundred
Thousand miles
Wheels swiftly spinning
A Traveler wearing a smile
Perhaps we'll meet
Along the way
Have you ever been
To outer space?
We could watch
The moon go by
From a dark
Starlit sky
.....
Traveler Tim
 Apr 2018
r
No one stays long
in the house of the bereaved

The hounds are lonely tonight
but not the priest

I dream I am still
in Tennessee grieving

Drinking moonshine
and branch water
looking for a fight

The undertaker creeps out
of the farmer's daughter's room

His wife beats a spider
with a broom then sweeps

When Death beats his child
nobody listens to her weep

My mother used to beg,
Son, don't write about Death,
We'll cross that ditch soon enough


I have nothing but respect
for the dead, I said

But there is no doubt in my mind
Death is a bad dog, a real *****.
 Feb 2018
Cné
If I could have you for a night
I’d stop the dawn from bringing light
I’d make the stars stay out and play
And make the moon hold back the day

If I could have you in my arms
I’d unleash my southern charms
I’d unlock every fantasy
And be all that you want of me

If I could have you in my bed
With sweet seduction you’d be fed
I’d give you treats and pleasured sighs
And let you taste of sugared thighs

I’d make you glutton of this feast
Your every whim would be released
I’d let you do just what you will
And let your body ******* thrill

I’d bind you up, and make you crave
And tease your sights and make you slave
Then I would let you conquer me
And stake your claim of victory

I’d bathe your body, lick you dry
In covered dreams I’d let you lie
Then gently I would make you wake
My hungry love to satiate

I’d dance before you, undulate
You’d reach for me, I’d hesitate
I’d belly dance before your eyes
Your harem girl, in veiled disguise

My sultan, I’d be bound to do
just everything you’d want me to
I’d let you take me one more time
In candle light, you'd be just mine

Each moment tasting of divine
My every kiss dipped in sublime
My every touch would bring delight
If I had you for just one night
 Jan 2018
Cné
Let the stars fly away
and leave the moon shining,
With You and I dancing
under the light until morning,

Hear the music playing
to the tune of heartbeats
Spiral waltz into the atmosphere
in the circle of our heat.

Swing under the moonlight
and be lost in love’s delight,
Souls in unison, while shaking,
and twisting in the night,

Fantasy performed in the body
moving from side to side,
Magical pleasure the souvenirs
reminisce with pride.

Imagine the night where the moon
glows in a fountain
The tiniest lives from natures hive
paddle in the ripples,
Lift the mind into the songs
with a picturesque scene that dazzles

And you smile in that moment
to cast a wishful token,
With one look into faith
at dreams destiny create, unspoken

The amazing aura in which
our desire can participate,
Leaving moves in photos
to embrace the ambiance found.
Being romantic; the party stood
silhouette around,

Shadows swing from the walls
unto the dance floor,
You hear the sound but your body
cries out for more.

Into the moonlight
eyes blinded by heavenly bliss,
And the glittering stars appear
in the halo of a kiss.
 Dec 2017
nivek
things dry up
cracked dusty riverbeds

The Moon
is still beautiful.

a poet still sings
beyond silence.

your river
becomes an ocean.
 Nov 2017
Pagan Paul
.
He lays in peaceful repose upon a sheet of satin,
she moves up to his body and curls into him,
placing her head upon his unmoving chest,
unconditional grief shown in mute sadness.
She recalls his voice filled with love and affection,
his familiar scent now gone, cold and musty,
as deaths sweet perfume hangs heavy
like a drape of choking intoxicant trance.
Moments stretch blandly into minutes of ache,
the minutes career into hours of silent vigil.
And with her head upon his unmoving chest
she exhales and whimpers her final sigh,
a last breath and she submissively slips away.
Hoping, perchance, once more to hear
her masters voice.



© Pagan Paul (25/11/17)
.
 Nov 2017
Mary Winslow
Young girls laugh
and cut the stems with fingernails
or small blunt scissors and set them in a vase
they gleam
rough cut flowers
husks by next month
after the water has dried
their stems touching crystal.

Weighty as feathers
desiccated while in bloom
these fossils
touched the moon
only a shadow
of their former selves
brides of the clouds
like statice, lavender, eucalyptus,
pearly everlasting
is nothing but lashes
claws of petal
they don’t care if they are hollow
if their throats are silent
wear iron smiles
ghost bloom
the very bitterness in them
is just a bough of hours
suitably decorating
the table.
©marywinslow2016 all right reserved. This is an old poem included in my collection of poems with Jeff Stier
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