They call it guilt, John.
That's what the voice in the dark of the night,
would always whisper upon me.
But I was deaf, so I would never hear it.

Oh, it's just what they'll all say,
"It's not your fault",
That your brother died,
That you're a broken husk of a man.

Worry not, worry not, fair snakeskin,
fair caterpillar,
surely you, too,
will shed your skin and fly, fly away.

But he doesn't get to fly now does he?
No all he exists is,
as a sad, cold face,
dead, under the refraction of light,
that pool's death gleams.

Hmm, but you enjoy this don't you,
John, the voice said to me.
The tragic backstory, the shameless reason.
For such gleeful ecstasy, surerly,
The small price of the lie called brother,
of innocence, of life,
of something you never really had, something you never really lose,
what an even sacrifice, John, what a fair toll,
in fact how favored are you, to so enjoy,

I won't tell if you won't, she says, whispered. Why always a she and who? It finishes anyways; whether I want it to...

Spencer died,
So I can have,
my whip in hand.
That is my truth.

 Mar 18 PrttyBrd
 Mar 18 PrttyBrd

I have loved you still,
When I could no longer turn you into poetry.
I have loved you from afar,
When you needed space to spread your wings and navigate.
I have loved you freely,
Because labeling things usually restrict their growth
I have loved you in silence,
And you still heard every confession I never uttered.

I have loved you, unabashedly,
Let my words rage on,
I have loved you gently,
The way moon sings lullabies to a kid.
I have loved you in hues,
Both crimson and blue,
And so when the winter comes,
And your hands are cold,
I'd still be holding you.

I have loved you when you were a poem,
I have loved you when you were spiteful words thrown away, casually.
I have loved you at your best,
I have loved you when you yourself could not.

 Mar 18 PrttyBrd
SG Holter

Spring love.
If either of us dies

It will be in celebration of
Winter passing.
Spring smells nice.

Us Norwegians live by
The weather.
When the

Hair stays on her
Pillow we both

Like there's no
I spell "love" however

I want.
Death adores its

Life and
Love hold hands and
Walk. We walk a lot.

The worst part about my life is
I still dream of you
And when I do
I wake myself up
Sit up slowly
And look to my left.

The me that needed you back then,
did not get the you who needed me
not as I was but who I used to be or
perhaps a better version of what I am now.

So our misbegotten love ached and tore,
and you belittled me with an angels laugh,
and I cursed you, forever marking you,
in the decrepit depths
of my now stone dead heart.

They say that everyone has
'The One' out there for them.
But they never tell you what to do,
when you meet them wrong,
and they are long gone.

A friend came to me,
and showed me some
genuine kindness.
I felt plastic.
My face wasn't right.
My pounds weighed heavily upon
my stone heart.
The alcohol
which brought some lies
in the form of false facade.
burnt away, thought the mask remained
She looked in my eyes
I hate the knowing.
Because I know not myself.
And I know all too well.
It is disgusting.
I wanted to tell her everything.
As I bit my tongue
I understand
I interrupted
I'll think about it
I appreciate it.
I listen but don't hear
I can't.
My life story is a burden
I refuse to place on others
This weight I bear.
This depression, always in the back.
She had seen.
Naked. Raw. Open. Exposed. Defeated.
I feel at a loss.
When I know I should have won.
Someone irreplaceable.
Someone I should not love.
But show me that genuine kindness.
Understand. And I am done.
My gift is my curse.
My heart beats for no one.

 Aug 2016 PrttyBrd

As I sit here on my patio
Watching the cars go by.
I think how peaceful this day is
As I see the USA FLAG flying high
Then inside I go, turn on the news...
And ask myself...WHY, WHY, WHY...
Do I watch this news
There is nothing good to hear
Another shooting,
Another storm, fires
and politics...WHY, WHY, WHY...
Hilary hates Trump and
Trump hates Hilary
We already know that
Isn't there something good to share?
I guess it doesn't help
To have ABC and CBS news apps
On my phone....ALERTS, ALERTS, ALERTS...
ooops there goes one now...
Catch ya later...


Life was so simple back when we didn't hear everything per news media.
 Aug 2016 PrttyBrd

Come walk with me a mile...
Walk on without our burden’s weighty shoes,
warily trudging over the long rocky pathway
a lifetime in my soul.
A final edifying voyage to freedom.
The winds of change are blowing briskly
as we walk charily over the long and narrowing
rock-strewn passageway.

I shed these boots and skin, no longer fitting
my scared, blistered and callused soles.
As time slowly passes,
this craggy passage has evolved
from a two-way trail,
into one-way jagged forage…

Standing barefooted and naked on rocky ground,
dark sunken sleepless eyes scan
the rolling vista as the wind blows
dust from the halo around the sun,
blurring the delicate wispy cirrus clouds.

The sun’s radiance paints frozen ice crystal azure
into a vivid aura of prisms’ brilliant corona.
Kaleidoscope rainbows adorn the closest of solar stars.
There's something in the ethereal air
that leaves my soul unsettled,
grasping for an evocative stability
trying to understand the silenced voices
crying out within…

The pain and suffering has vanished
as if the body and soul have separated,
numbness from the ache of longing,
severed nerves, callused fears
ruptured on serrated rocky edges,
deadened useless flesh cut to the bone
by misjudged obstacles encountered enduringly.

The barefooted spirit courses on,
suffused in the solar spectrum’s dust;
yearning, longing to saunter
above and beyond the bloated feathery pillows;
cumulus clouds finally resting at peace.
Dipping heart's lesions and these benumbed toes
into a healing balm
from the bowers of bliss..

An unfinished life
an open ended dream,
reluctantly waking to take the last ,
surrendering steps  beyond the threshold...
A long and winding rocky journey’s destiny
draws near

The halo around the moon
illuminates an understanding firmament;
the celestial sphere’s
pending imminent soulful rain awaits
the metamorphosis at the brink of dawn.

A shower of heaven's rain
shall mourn the loss of flesh form
as the spirit of an untamed soul lives on,
naked and free
like the dust in the wind
absorbed eternally...

2011 © harlon rivers
all rights reserved

Hope is like Faith, believing in something you can't see,
but knowing in your heart it’s real.

We all have faith in something...

"Never deprive someone of hope ~
it may be all they have"....Anonymous
 Aug 2016 PrttyBrd
Mike Hauser

~Never a word~
more spoken true
than the few
of I love you

~Never a word~
can touch a heart
than those same words
in a thought

~Never a word~
so sweet a sound
than when those thoughts
leave the mouth

~Never a word~
means more in life
than what that sound
brings to mind


~Never a word~
more spoken true
than the few
of I love you

 Aug 2016 PrttyBrd
Francie Lynch

If you'd been here
When I was young,
You'd not forget
What we'd have done.

We'd climb roofs,
Jump in the river,
Snatch neighbour's pears,
Then skedaddle,
Laughing with sweat-matted hair,
Wiping off those grown-up cares.

We'd bumper-jump in four inch snow,
And never let our parents know.
Oh, such fun we two would do,
If I could stay as young as you.

We'd skate and bike,
Play street ball,
Act up in school,
Stand in the hall;
We'd hike with jars
Along country brooks,
Read and trade
Our comic books.
Lie in the sand,
Burn in the sun,
Forgetting it was time for home.
We'd never tire of our treats,
And often we'd forget to eat
Because we're having all our fun:
If you'd been here when I was young.

We'd play Tag and Red Rover,
Flags and Chase,
Then have sleep-overs.
We'd swap tomorrow
For daily pearls,
Then swap each other
For pretty girls.

We'd be up to our shenanigans,
Sleep the sleep,
Then start again.
This is the way
We'd have our fun,
If you'd been here
When I was young.

But now you're here,
And I'm much older,
The things we'd do
You'll do with others;
But when you need a  boost to climb,
This old man has a shoulder.
I'll sure have lots of fun,
For you're here now.
That keeps me young.

For my new Grandson, Xavier (b. July 23rd.)
Thanks for all your readership and support. I hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed the write. Peace.
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