#watermark - Hello Poetry

Rays of light reach the high watermark, The sun lovely bathes in the morning dew, On a rose cradled within someone's thumb, And in a tear streaming from someone's eyes!"

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Nov 15, 2023

Nov 15, 2023 at 10:36 PM UTC

shofi-ahmed

Truth is Truth

Rays of light reach the high watermark, The sun lovely bathes in the morning dew, On a rose cradled within someone's thumb, And in a tear streaming from someone's eyes!"

4

I love you only in ways I am allowed to. I admire you only from afar, where I cannot touch you. I dream of you only in the deepest of nights, an unconscious rendezvous. I wish for you only in silence, not one desire, untrue. I love you only in the dark, ‘cause under the sunlight, I’d be reminded of your watermark— you are not mine, though I am yours. I love you alone it is the only love I’ve ever known.

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Apr 24, 2018

Apr 24, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC

imai

watermark

I love you only in ways I am allowed to. I admire you only from afar, where I cannot touch you. I dream of you only in the deepest of nights, an unconscious rendezvous. I wish for you only in silence, not one desire, untrue. I love you only in the dark, ‘cause under the sunlight, I’d be reminded of your watermark— you are not mine, though I am yours. I love you alone it is the only love I’ve ever known.

23

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

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Oct 20, 2017

Oct 20, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC

harlon-rivers

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

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