Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Waning  dappled  moonlight mantles
the margin at the wild-wood edge
Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears
sporadically sway — raking against
the  scarlet  poison  oak  leaves
gently sweeping away the moonlit silence
airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing
barkless mountain willow trunks bare

Subtle nuances constantly animate
twilights rhythm;  heaven flickers
upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars
softly as a candlelight’s  fluttering  glow
evanescing  half way  across  the  sky;
the  sparse  illumined  clouds  stream through
the lambent halo around the rutting moon
fleeting in the blink  of  sleepless eyes

and like the silent touch of a talisman,
transfixed eyes are entranced by all
the  restless  night  disrobes,
captured and cocooned by the seeker’s
awakened senses

An erratic,  familiar feral bark peals haughtily;
a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek
in youthful pursuit;  the howling report back,
ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal,
aroused by the pulse of brother wolf
rippling deeply through their blood

The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top:
an aging full moon is not enough skylight
to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie
the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling
an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within;

bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle
but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically
reach out to touch them in an absolving moment  —
understanding love was always the purpose of being ,...

futilely repining — I  can't  face  myself  alone  again

            harlon rivers ... October  2019                                                  

Notes: a coyote moon

3am — eyes wide open — embraced by a presence that robes the night
gazing at the ecstasy of feeling nature's deep roots in my soul

Thanks for reading ... rivers
Drifting back to the ocean
like it never even happened
unraveled dreams washed clean
crystalline renaissance bestowed    
by wind mountain spring waters
rising from the heart
of mother earth

A remnant light glows deeply
of one love's untamed wonders
an unfastened feather glides abandoned
rushing waters floating
alighting pilgrim blissfully sails on
stranded without wings
a fallen wild feather free as bird
wanting a place to be let free

Sun in the summer air
wind in buoyant feathered hair
softly dancing upon
wild river restless ripples
to feel the love of holding on
adrift asunder whence it touched on
destiny's far-reaching
journey yonder
holding onto flowing rivers
rolling towards the sea

The incoming tidal waters blossom
surge to greet wind river's gentle saunter
converging slackening passage
salt on feral feathered fragments
arousing currents babbling swirl
imbibed by the impassioned sea

Wild rivers' born intentions
a different kind of drifting passage
to kiss the distant horizon
where the sown sunlight settles
submerged in shoreless ocean waters
    to be free all at sea at last

someone you used to know  2017
I've lost my artistic touch
and I've never felt so lost
traces of being Aug 2018
Nascent love blossomed

          hidden amongst

          the lazy river's

          moonlit summer vines
          as we swam blissfully,

          stark naked as we are,

          drowning in a dulcet river’s spilled wine

Burning rapture garnered somewhere

in the starlit goosebumps shine

sensual healing released like spindrift

from every breaking wave;

splashing impassioned ecstasy

within passion suffused sighs

          The cadence of our moon shadow's dance

          reveled in the midnight reign          

          enslaved by an insatiable

          stardust rhapsody,

          unshackled lovers set free,

          entangled beneath the jealous stars

traces of being Apr 2018
Float seeds in the wind strewn about haphazardly;
indifferent winds ask not direction to course

Change asks not permission to become ―
like a blind-folded pilot looking for a place to land

At least dandelion wishes shoulder the weight of hope
and it makes no difference to the wind whose dream
it holds or seed it bears to  randomly cast away

The color of a mustard seed of faith
that moves mountains remains unknown ―
Freedom is as weightless as a hole in empty pocket
with nothing left to lose

Who decides who's a **** and what's a flower;
such definitive power beholds responsibility—
the most visible kind of strength,
that, used to oppress others,
is itself born of weakness.

On this island earth, in an ocean of emptiness,
a grain of sand and seaweed are washed ashore,
alone together, by the strength of a tuning tide

Float seeds in the wind strewn about haphazardly;
spindrift flying on the wing of tide-change
as indifferent gales ask not direction to scatter

Terrestrial seeds lay unheeded hole up in impalpable silence,
embryos of yesterday dwelling in infrequent sighs
that enter lightly those unreckoned songs
the breathings of the heart fail to sing

              words in the wind
Notes: ****;  plant considered undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome, especially one that grows where it is not wanted and often grows or spreads fast or takes the place of desired plants.
traces of being Apr 2018
in the mornin'
dawn awakens
unquiet heart
   in a dream ―

      i hear
    a whisper
    from a voice,
gentle as a burning
 sing to me softly
without words

... a stirring
moment ripples ―
an unholdable dream
wakeless silence;
... vanishing , . .
by the daylight
   just beyond
   closed eyes

    and now
 it's only me

words in the wind
traces of being Apr 2018
I often wonder how you’re doing
     but I wish I didn't care
Even though you never told me you were leaving
     with a mouthful of words left unsaid
Still circling back to touch the growing space
     between ―  twice you broke my heart

I felt you slip away in autumn gold
     fading like the morning dew
Love can drift away like a molted feather;
wonted flotsam swept afar on stormy seas
Some things are better left unspoken,
     when silence speaks twice
            louder than words

But love lies with a whisper; tears of sombre sorrow
     won’t wash away the distance in your eyes
These are the days of a rising tide's breach
  when, I could walk deep into the ocean
     with no one else but memories
                to leave behind

                   April 2018
... love lies with a whisper
        in abject silence,

        life's too short
        to drink bad wine

        change never asks
        for permission

        time takes time

        and by the way,
        I forgive you ...
Next page