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 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/
                                                                                                                     .
 Jun 2018
Edmund black
Too often
        
                            We walk
                  Through        Storms
                                 Searching
                            For
                                ­     LOVE
                              Knowing
                         We won’t find it !
And we often find ourselves asking why me !
 Jun 2018
Dr Peter Lim
The first duty of love
is to serve
 Jun 2018
Tanisha Jackland
The beautiful things are
always written in black
The swan may she overwhelm
you with her delicate charm
is brought to you in obsidian grace
Or how about the crow
brings us the message of tomorrow
soothsayer with black wings
Black is tenderness
and camouflage
our protection
fiercely rejected by some
While others surrender to
its potency
Wherever it is you stand
with or with out it
know that black stands on its own
thru out the Universe
pulling us like gravity
commanding a deep reverence
for it
rearranging our skies
Black is good.
She is a Generator.
But, she's about to cut-out,
Very soon!

She is underpowered
And overloaded!
She needs assistance--energy
From the Sun and the Moon.

But, the Sun's rays
Cannot charge her battery -
It is no longer recharging her,
At all!

Nor, can the Moon,
Any longer,
Be of any assistance,
Or help....
It's time to disconnect--
Discharge from all!
~ Too many plugs are in the wall!

By Lady R.F. (C) 2018
I travel roads of deep despair,
chasing a shimmer of hope on the far horizon, forever out of reach, it's  sullen beauty lingers at dusk, calling
yet never yielding to my touch.
Time sleeps within the darkness
it stretches and wanes within waves of poison doubt
speaking my conscience
killing the last of me.
Knowledge presents itself slowly
that caustic drip
an ancient thirst
to  covet moons.
 May 2018
harlon rivers
"From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story.
A story says, I survived." - Fr. Craig Scott

... a tribute to a fallen brother ― R.I.P  Les
... you were with me every step of the way to the top



crampon cleats tickle her bedrock
far below the frosty powder dusting;
released from where her majestic peak
parted yester night’s obstinate clouds.

the alpine atmosphere
first chilled and then plummeted
as the starlight glistened;
illuminated ice crystals sparkle
like diamonds in the rough.

I am overwhelmed
by the peaceful aura
surrounding me.

watching how
"these"
footprints
mark the snow
...arousing
a lucid,
stirring awareness
of my existence;

...inciting
a conscious moment,  
extraordinarily deepening
the realization of being.


harlon rivers ... May 24th, 2013
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2528185/beyond-the-telegraph-road-a-poem-in-memoriam-of-the-love-of-friends-brothers-promises/

postscript:
the poem above is notes turned prose poem...still stirring from a moment remembered. We were best friends from the neighborhood just shirt of 20 years.  When we were teens, skiing, we used to look up to the tip top of Mt Hood and say: "someday we'll climb up there together and look back down here from the top";  four years later i saw him drive away down our gravel road for the last time ― you never know which goodbye is the last ―

This is a piece inspired by climbing a snow and ice packed, 12,000 foot dormant volcano in the cascade mountains of the Pacific Northwest.   The original, that this is intended to be an intro for, is "Beyond the Telegraph Road"
  
Edited to say: Thanks for the encouragement Laim...without it I may not have shared the rest of the Memorial day story here at HP...
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