"harbored" poems
hit the road
i’ve been bold
talking in my sleep
i grit my teeth
walking the streets at night
i’ve decided that everything is emptiness
everything as i know it, is emptiness
how refreshing life is
how incredibly refreshing my mind is
my mind is emptiness
my heart is emptiness
my lust is emptiness
my love is emptiness
my thoughts, my theories, my ambitions, my abortions, my cheating, lying habits, my dreams, my girlfriends, my world, my room, my hate, my anger, my joy, my pain are all emptiness
nothing happens
nothing is a word and words don’t exist
the way that i am tied to words is emptiness
the alcoholism is emptiness
the drugs are emptiness
the friends are emptiness
my family is emptiness
i am emptiness
there is no support, no conflict, no harbored poor emotions, no bold ideas, no sympathy, no death, no life and no person.
thank god, allah, buddha, shiva, abraham, dalai lama, bob dobbs, the cosmos, myself and all those other wonderful concepts that don’t exist because they are mere words.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
i have grown flowers out of the marrow of my bones
i have harbored seeds from the blood that flows
i have created skies from the pain in my eyes
and i do it all for you,
my wildflower
Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 9:47 AM UTC
There is an old proverb
And this is how it goes
'A ship is safe when harbored,
Snugly in land that's closed.'
But ships weren't meant to be harbored,
They were not built to be snug but free,
Their masts to fly high and proud,
Through the stormy waves of seas.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
A whole piece of cake
In exchange to a slice of your head,
Fed you with excessive sweetness
And made me famish for your entire mind.
I recall the nights
Of your faraway look almost imperceptible,
The riddle of your smile
And your tales of departure.
With nicotine on your lips
And caffeine on mine,
I was the silent listener
Of your careless narrative.
Such brief moments harbored inside me,
When like your furtive grin
And sly glances, ensnared my thoughts
Craving more from fragments of your soul.
As time made its scarcity known
And fondness its urgent manifestation,
The sugar note and saccharine gift
Snatched you completely away from me.
Today in coffee city
Alone or with company,
I relive a fraction of yesterday
Out of the same blend of coffee
And from the small portion of the same cake flavor.
Smoke from cigars fills the air
Like wispy apparition of yours
I make out on every stranger’s face
Across the other tables.
A sip of coffee and a bit of cake
Serve as reminders if not comfort
Of how little you cared to say goodbye,
Leaving a bittersweet aftertaste.
I stir this cup
Divining the future,
And all I see is my self.
Over the counter today and tomorrow
My Italian tongue says, “Tiramisu.”
As my English heart whispers, “Pick me up.”
Maybe then as liquids turn
And as circles run.
I will find my own reflection
In your staring eyes.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 1:54 AM UTC
Never have I taken love
for granted or in vain.
If some perceive that this I've done
I'm sorry for the pain.
For love, that peerless gift of all
should never be denied.
But understanding's needed
and in hearts it must abide.
Absence makes it greater still
as distance magnifies
The longing harbored by each heart,
though social mores defies.
So cling to love through thick and thin
through unrequited pain.
Reality is just the one
and love of self, the gain.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
She stumbled across the streets,
with low light streams.
Casting a glimpse to the rustling leaves,
fearing a soul's hail,
for 'twould free her long-harbored wail.
Her white shroud floating back like a spectre unleashed,
her feeble hands holding tight to the shovel in need;
on she went digging, with all her strength beaming,
waiting not for a second to breathe.
A ditch no less than a bottomless pit,
was what she endeavored to achieve in the late night sleep
to abandon her setback grief.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
We started out as a couple of friends,
Who saw each other now and then,
Two people hurt many times before,
And afraid of getting hurt once more.
Slowly we began to share long walks,
And share our thoughts in quiet talks,
And of each other we soon grew fond,
Realizing we shared a special bond.
Hearts that harbored so much pain,
They never thought they'd love again,
Secretly wishing that they would find,
Someone to give them peace of mind.
Hearts that searched so far and wide,
For the love that went missing inside,
Souls that roamed long and far,
Wishing upon most every star.
Then one day my wish came true,
I found love again and it was you,
There was a piece missing from my soul,
You were the one who made me whole.
05-17-10.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 9:40 PM UTC
Sweet, harmless lives! (on whose holy leisure
Waits innocence and pleasure),
Whose leaders to those pastures, and clear springs,
Were patriarchs, saints, and kings,
How happened it that in the dead of night
You only saw true light,
While Palestine was fast asleep, and lay
Without one thought of day?
Was it because those first and blessed swains
Were pilgrims on those plains
When they received the promise, for which now
’Twas there first shown to you?
’Tis true, He loves that dust whereon they go
That serve Him here below,
And therefore might for memory of those
His love there first disclose;
But wretched Salem, once His love, must now
No voice, nor vision know,
Her stately piles with all their height and pride
Now languished and died,
And Bethlem’s humble cotes above them stepped
While all her seers slept;
Her cedar, fir, hewed stones and gold were all
Polluted through their fall,
And those once sacred mansions were now
Mere emptiness and show;
This made the angel call at reeds and thatch,
Yet where the shepherds watch,
And God’s own lodging (though He could not lack)
To be a common rack;
No costly pride, no soft-clothed luxury
In those thin cells could lie,
Each stirring wind and storm blew through their cots
Which never harbored plots,
Only content, and love, and humble joys
Lived there without all noise,
Perhaps some harmless cares for the next day
Did in their bosoms play,
As where to lead their sheep, what silent nook,
What springs or shades to look,
But that was all; and now with gladsome care
They for the town prepare,
They leave their flock, and in a busy talk
All towards Bethlem walk
To see their souls’ Great Shepherd, Who was come
To bring all stragglers home,
Where now they find Him out, and taught before
That Lamb of God adore,
That Lamb whose days great kings and prophets wished
And longed to see, but missed.
The first light they beheld was bright and gay
And turned their night to day,
But to this later light they saw in Him,
Their day was dark, and dim.
2.3k
at some point, you just know that
you have got to let them go
of the first time we connected
all those memories we both established
those quirks, my quirks
and remained are flaws, irredeemable flaws
of the places we visited
and of the places that could have been
they now remain as stolen dreams
and retain in them, nightmares born
to its deserving king
of the ideas and lies that
perpetuated my thoughts
to you and for you
like a love that stalks rather
than one you wish I would have
of you
he who once was the sun to me
whose smile was solace like the moon
and though, most probably, it was all built in lies
it was something, truly moving
but remains in the sky, was nothing
that is why these things have to go
the stains that once belonged
and in their places are impressions, gone
what now remains, if they wish to remain,
are dreams that turned into nightmares
ghosts that I long ignored
love once harbored
and... you
Dec 13, 2023
Dec 13, 2023 at 9:58 AM UTC
There that lives, is a land,
so vast, so big, so wonderfully grand.
Cloaked in fantasy,
in a blaze of illusion,
only minds with eyes may see this fusion.
All that may come to be,
starts with a gland of artistry.
There it dwells,
deep inside,
awaiting to inspire the awakening
of the third eye.
Harbored within,
are worlds with no ends,
and all around matter fails to exist.
Wide minded,
visions of potential beauty,
drain from my lungs
and spew into my eternity.
I am nothing more than
a spec of informational energy.
As my essence retreats
from my body,
I am embraced with the
warmth love of infinity.
Pleasant and soft,
I snuggle up,
just a bit,
enjoying thee evermore bliss,
or whats left of it...
As I come down
from my cloud,
I slip, and loose grip.
Dimensions are fading,
communications are disconnecting,
my ears ring and
sound returns to me,
all that's left of this trip is
water filled eye's and
a better understanding of what
LOVE really is...
Why can't the world be like this???
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Gray Owl hearkens
the dappled daybreak knell
echoing through
the wildwood forest stand;
rock doves and frosty stones abide,
where a marooned heart doth dwell,
disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch
Timber stand grips tight
red clay and bedrock of ages,
postured tall and strong
as eagle's spirit throne
Pine cones hide
in the low drifting clouds,
ripe acorns tumble down alone
unto a windblown
shallow earthen grave,
hillocked beneath
the sky-high canopy
Bones of branches,
furrowed bark from burled oak,
wood-grains of pith,
natural gnarled achings
peeled by the shivering
wind's breath
Paling autumn memories
grow dim as the receding sunlight,
recollections of ebbing Jasmine's
mellowing fragrant balm
waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy,
the edge of winter metamorphosis
bears down with a prodigious weight
of a different kind of retreating light;
brindled Queen Anne's lace
hold sway across
the tawny frostbitten meadow
imbuing the poignantly
whetting breeze
The blink of an eye winks,
to catch sight of
an intimate glimpse,
an unspoken
solitude holds forth,
the mesmerizing coo of rock doves,
reverently mirroring
the sanctity of the forest wildwood
lingering amongst the frosty
ferns and stones
The harmony of tranquil silence wanders;
only the bowing resistance of the boughs
manifest the shapeless wind’s
whispered breathe
swirling above the labyrinth threshold;
therein lies an unfractured fault line
rooted deeply beneath
the earth’s crust
like the sonorous heart
of a sanctuary hearthstone
Hence there is symmetry
felt in silence that only whispers
in the deep toned consonant
of our own harbored sighs
a holy human blood link
born of heritage wilderness heartwood
beats keenly alive
written by: harlon rivers ... December 2017
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
A lifetime worth of suffocation,
Emotions that are never ending
They flow out of me without and option to stop,
Sorrow,love,anger,frustration and even joy filling up in me.
Darkness harbored in my life for so long,
They say it's just a phase but it's been forever,
The emotion in me ten times stronger than average.
This can be both a gift and a torcherous burden,
Love can become pain,
And that pain is rooted in the assalt of rejection,
But then there is joy and it flows through my body and soul.
This has taken over me not just now but always,
When lonliness hits it's as though i'm sitting in blackness,
Nothing is in sight,
It's pitch black and I am alone,
The weight of my world seemingly upon my shoulders.
I fight but I've grown weak,
I pull myself out of the lonley abyss and there I am,
Once again surrounded by the world passing me by,
Apparently I am invisible,
Transparent in so many eyes,
Still with the emotions overriding me,
Forever will these suffocation of emotions haunt me,
Because they have now become me.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 7:56 AM UTC
Lips crack and split like the petals of dead roses.
Dark
Twisted
Lifeless
Flowers come and flowers go and you were the most graceful of them all. You were a black rose, beautiful to behold but your stems were sharp and callous.
Why do you allow your thorns to chastise me?
I sit silently, reminiscent, remembering how I fell deeply in love with you and how you cut deeply into me.
Love was never supposed to be like that but it was love nonetheless.
I plucked at your petals as you made my fingers bleed and we traded our secrets. You absorbed my strength, I harbored your weaknesses and from that day, I was never the same.
You are gone, wiltered and your essence blows in the wind. My lips sense your presence and crack once more in the hope that you will return in bloom...
For though dead roses wield no sweet aroma, their thorns still puncture the strongest of skins.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
become blushing moon
in the valley shallow palm
lay a caress so correct to
corpse the apathetic tremor
drink serene a milk of silver
blood. diamond clever facets
crave
to be so
in the stillness of the nestled.
star robed misty water skin
i call you mine
aching
glitter lady (exhale dripping frame
harbored in the loose
sheets of pallor hugging
my temporary ribs)
Jun 3, 2010
Jun 3, 2010 at 3:16 AM UTC
I'm so heavy.
In my body and soul sits
an entity housed hostel.
****** trappings and clotted beats pulse
past, and hang in ragged disarray.
This entity sits humble, patiently waiting beat down
any hint of emotional compromise harbored in the heart
and made logical in the mind.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 2:12 PM UTC
“Here, have a drink,” A man slurred.
A tall, red, plastic cup of heavy smelling alcohol hovered in front of me, like a moth around the flickering flame of a candle.
The cup laughed in my face and dared me to grab it; the peer pressure pouring off of the drunk’s lips was like a buzzing fly that wouldn’t leave me alone.
“No thanks,” I told him.
“C’mon, it’s just one drink.”
I sighed, because I’d been down this road before.
Because just one drink can’t hurt anything, right?
It’s just one.
One that allows a drunken ******* who otherwise has no control over women besides offering ‘just one drink.’
But the flashback that started playing inside my head was a movie screen that felt like a drive-in film where everyone was welcome to watch.
Except they couldn’t.
These drunken “friends” on the TV inside my head who I’d been with a few months ago had wandered off with their own boyfriends, leaving me
Stranded and vulnerable, like a car on the side of the highway without any flashing hazard lights warning other drivers that I was parked there.
They abandoned me.
And who knows how long I would have been stranded until a car decided to pull over and approach my vehicle, tow straps to carry me away.
But he didn’t save me from the other passing cars. Instead, he hauled me around a sharp curve of the long stretch of road,
Left me as a wide open target for his own truck to smash into me, leaving me broken and battered, with no witnesses to call the police, an ambulance or a fire truck.
I was left all alone, bleeding and scarred in the dark curve of the highway where this drunken driver escaped without a single bruise or tear on his body, unlike my own.
“It’s just one drink.” The intoxicated stranger pried at me again, feeling his question burn into me like a red light that just wouldn’t turn green.
“No,” I said and turned away from the drunk.
It was the first time I said no to the smell of dark liquor and whatever was hiding beneath and dissolved into the liquid that was harbored in the tall, red cup.
I said no to being victim again to a date **** drug.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Wooden swing, sandal toes.
Willows.
Swaying.
Sweet
water
running.
A silly, sinking feeling.
Sun saved Boat's neck.
Sun saved Boat from Night,
from shipwreck.
Harbored.
Beached.
Bobbing,
beat of red dawn drum,
tune of tangerine rind tenor.
Wheez.
Sea breeze.
Breathe.
Sugar soap.
Sun drop.
Exfoliate.
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
If I was unbroken
Heart still intact
Maybe this could work
But it's bruised
Bent
And cracked
It's surely closed off
With a lock on the door
That's the only way to protect
What's hidden in it's core
Will reveal a tiny part in time
But my world I dare not show
Not a single step allowed
Into what's harbored down below
After all I have suffered
I won't make the same mistake
If I don't display my soul
There's nothing for anyone to take
Jun 30, 2021
Jun 30, 2021 at 9:15 AM UTC
This ship has set sail
With a crew of fifty good men
And twenty heavily coated dogs
Over half the crew will be dead
By the time we reach our destination
On this secret government expedition
Journey to the bottom of the world
To find the Southern Pole
The wind blows us where no life lives
But the bitter cold
From North America
Past the southern tip of Argentina
Harbored at the Falkland Islands
For our last taste of civilization
Six months
Or maybe it was a year or more at sea
To the icy shores of another planet
Encased in endless days of darkness
The ship became marooned
In frozen oceanic tundra
For many winter nights
We the crew chiseled, shoveled
And pick-axed our way to break free
Of our prison made from solid crystal air
Finally unyielding land ahead
An unmovable iceberg
We dock and unload
Steady our sea legs to skis and sleds
The dogs take off across this untraveled land
Pulling us in tow
Faster against the frigid wind
Than our own frostbitten limbs would allow
Ninety degrees south latitude lies somewhere ahead
Blanketed in fresh snowfall and ice storms
Supplies and moral run low as this weary travel continues on
Shaded in zero visibility we set camp for the night
Harbored against the soulless chill
In a frozen crevice of ice mountain
Our health deteriorated and the dogs drained
Polar sleep sets in
The arctic wind chills us to the bone
And my cold eyes close
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
Burning
The fire is glowing set against the chill of autumn’s night wind the chimney discharges the inner being of
The wood truly the spirit of the wood rises ghostly it breaks out of the chimney and is welcomed by the
Wayward wind lessoned of its density but an exchange occurred for its value memories it took while the
Elderly mother set close for its comfort and warmth as the shadows played on her face of age it told
Many stories of struggle and triumph father earned the money by back breaking work in a dark coal
Mine mother took it thanked the good lord then raised it to masterful heights with skill and cooking
Lessons learned from her mother time draws definitive measures in each life now having reached a
Seasoned long life milestone her tender heart was the capstone walls and windows a sturdy life looking
Like beams as the shadows of the fire danced on the wall below what mellow note it struck and she it’s
Center piece buy the night with her humility and genteel ways the rush of power still evident in her frail
Frame life glowing in the midst of the fire’s own showing strength her wisdom the families guide hard to
Believe that a personality so affable and giving could coil as steel if the need arose pushed to a point but
No further you don’t raise a family and see them succeed without having a store house of individualism
In reserve now all that shows on the service is a profound goodness displayed in weak frailty the body
Slows its tempered power subsides but within the spirit still can be counted on for feats and exploits as
The demand calls for them even a fire dies down but all it needs is the stoking some of the wood has
Been turned from the flame within short time it will roar with new glory old age isn’t a total defeat
You can change the pace and years of experience will give control with less effort the fire plays on
Mother’s breath softens as she drifts in dreams to grand times when all was collectively connected
Honor and glory told over successive years now they are harbored and restored to a degree by the
burning
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 1:59 PM UTC
What does an angel dream,
If such a feat is so possible?
Of life on earth?
Or of the paradise in which he resides?
And what of demons?
Consumed in flames,
Does slumber ever ****** Satan?
It must.
If so, He must dream of heaven,
Of when he harbored angelic ailerons,
Of when he was his own sworn enemy,
Of unattainable paradise.
As Gabriel as his Angel of Death,
And God his own enemy's creator,
Satan dreams not,
For He has Nightmares Of Paradise.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:39 PM UTC
Moonlight peaking through blinds
intermingling with candlefire,
Illuminating a tired artist
creating out of an innate desire.
Cups of coffee, cream & sugar
downed two at a time for stamina
while the typewriter tatters away
fabricating a tapestry of stories
weaved by burgeoning personas.
Who are you?
the stories ask
The coffee? The cream?
The paper? The sugar?
The moon? The light?
The candle? Their user?
Are you the art or the artist?
The heart or its confuser?
All of these questions & more boggle
the artist, who knows not the difference
between imagination & its manifestation,
reality.
Our rational world of thought has given way
to a mystical realm harbored deep within
every subconscious; a subterfuge of
silver threads that discreetly tie us together.
Every night, one after another,
minds across the world become interwoven
into a network of murmured incantations.
Dreams lost in translation like travelers
awaiting trains at different destinations.
Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 12:56 AM UTC
Now I understand.
Both the insecurities of myself and the natural jealousies;
not of potential love affairs, but of friendships and spoken whispers
that are not for my longing ears to hear.
happiness, for harmony...
but pain, perhaps a nosy desire
to know the happenings and every little secret...
is it a vice or a inevitable wish?
For a best friend and lover to welcome me into their world as well?
This is the pain that will be harbored but never revealed
it is my own infliction to carry
and whispered to self
Every night
Neverending.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC