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harlon-riversPoems
Coyote’s mournful howl echoed in the new moon’s enchanting sultry ether; breathing the living harmony of the wilderness rhythm He seemed to sense a soul reincarnation       within a pervasive spirit light       an oft misunderstood       common thread shared       this hallowed land’s night An uncommon Zen stirring from within,               stifling apathy .., . . . of rumble deep beneath       a dormant volcano reawakening ;       that which lies undiscovered       just before the ruptured moment ..,       liberation of release ―       dust and ashes taking flight Through open window              insomnia churns                           fifty shades of blue ..,       cast in shadowed hues of broken silence Coyote stirred the stillness       with a hauntingly familiar cry       reading the ridge-top echoes       like the book of my mind " YIP YIP   A ―W O O H !!! " . . . the somber plea For it is in these final hours chosen chore       the recurring torn       these chains and things Coyote was going there ―       to stand these watermark crossroads       this hour of need Accepting brother has always been lonely       sometimes anything       means something - - and so it goes .., Coyote communes in pulse       from ancient realms       this sacred blood ..,                 Om          the lost chord       wounded healers , . . . one mutual spirit       runs marrow deep       where dogs run free The moan of doves whisper to the impending dawn . . . always known these days       too soon do come and gone What once was a life well lived ,       s l o w l y     e v a n e s c i n g       like the summer river’s flow some say ..." you never miss the water       'til the well runs dry " . . . regrets a waste of time - - Rumination, a loathsome silent reverie       a taunting unsolved koan       an unplanned oxymoron ,         beget of a deafening silence . . . dust sleeps with indifference       veiling a beautiful handmade       unstrung guitar       muted - - abandoned,       tone poems, unsung and so "re-begins" the task ...       come what may rise up       into the dark star's light ... Coyote was going there - -       a dawning metamorphosis       under another nebulous sky . . . refreshed by Luna's potent alchemy bestrewn       in her spellbinding lambent moonlight elixir of life ... harlon rivers  ... 5. 21. 2015
0
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
Coyote was going there
Coyote’s mournful howl echoed in the new moon’s enchanting sultry ether; breathing the living harmony of the wilderness rhythm He seemed to sense a soul reincarnation       within a pervasive spirit light       an oft misunderstood       common thread shared       this hallowed land’s night An uncommon Zen stirring from within,               stifling apathy .., . . . of rumble deep beneath       a dormant volcano reawakening ;       that which lies undiscovered       just before the ruptured moment ..,       liberation of release ―       dust and ashes taking flight Through open window              insomnia churns                           fifty shades of blue ..,       cast in shadowed hues of broken silence Coyote stirred the stillness       with a hauntingly familiar cry       reading the ridge-top echoes       like the book of my mind " YIP YIP   A ―W O O H !!! " . . . the somber plea For it is in these final hours chosen chore       the recurring torn       these chains and things Coyote was going there ―       to stand these watermark crossroads       this hour of need Accepting brother has always been lonely       sometimes anything       means something - - and so it goes .., Coyote communes in pulse       from ancient realms       this sacred blood ..,                 Om          the lost chord       wounded healers , . . . one mutual spirit       runs marrow deep       where dogs run free The moan of doves whisper to the impending dawn . . . always known these days       too soon do come and gone What once was a life well lived ,       s l o w l y     e v a n e s c i n g       like the summer river’s flow some say ..." you never miss the water       'til the well runs dry " . . . regrets a waste of time - - Rumination, a loathsome silent reverie       a taunting unsolved koan       an unplanned oxymoron ,         beget of a deafening silence . . . dust sleeps with indifference       veiling a beautiful handmade       unstrung guitar       muted - - abandoned,       tone poems, unsung and so "re-begins" the task ...       come what may rise up       into the dark star's light ... Coyote was going there - -       a dawning metamorphosis       under another nebulous sky . . . refreshed by Luna's potent alchemy bestrewn       in her spellbinding lambent moonlight elixir of life ... harlon rivers  ... 5. 21. 2015
Notes: This poem is republished from my original harlon rivers account for the friend that commented on October 5th:"I hope the maestro Coyote’s howls yet again" BTW my sage ol' great grandpa, that passed at 99, always reminded me I was born under a Coyote Moon ― some things never change sub-entry: all roads lead to all roads.., poetic pathways do cross seeds of heart and soul sown ... nurtured birth tendrils of a thousand flowers nascent buds to blossoming fruition do come to wilt like the last winter rose, full circle in seasons ever changing light… just because the blossom dgoes not last forever does not pale the impassioned light of its poetry be remembered by your life's poetry .., believe a poem can make a difference - - - Thank you for reading of many rivers ― peace on the shoreline ... Written by: h.a. rivers
#coyote#moon#storypoetry#watermark#moment#seasonalaffectivedisorder#life#rivers#overcome
harlon-rivers
Written by
harlon-rivers
M/Edge of the woods
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
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