Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
CK Baker Jul 2017
They weren’t all cut from the same cloth
vilified tenders of an iron *****
some were lovers
or lucid dreamers
stage romantics
hidden under jackboots
and skull caps
and switchblade seams

Caste members of a forlorn pack
counting their patchwork and deeds
conjuring demons
around the console
filling dreams
with radio reds
and dusted quarries
and faded sepia prints

Brass knuckles
and marches of the few
lightening bolt cracks
from a chilling blood moon
death’s dark specter
cold and ominous looms
the cobalt sea swells
near the nestled, and lost
Clubhouse at Kiusta
Show us some light, Mr Jimmy
Sofia Von Sep 2013
Endorphin showers for hours
Crash my waves of sorrow and bring me muscles to shine on the world viewed as imperfect.
Its the happiness I never want to leave but it drifts,
its white cloud up and up,
Contact high as it passes my friends I want to share
To care for you all
Vibe in this opposite of ominous
parade bound for cheer, without beer just extracted hormones.
I’ll twirl you like a pencil
yet ***, for a day, where I can make someone
harlon rivers Oct 2016
Look up and breathe it all in
The sky is crying, exploding
with a torrential waterfall.
Inhale natures’ showering
an unblemished symphony
The black cloud’s unavowed weight
lingers invigoratingly overhead

Emotions ebb and flow
with the moment’s
immanent spirit of light;
there is a liberating sensation
that excites anticipation
of the sky’s impending
purposefully fated  release ...

Heavens… flood down holy water
in a drenching act of baptism
a merciful drowning in a river
of celestial tears
Dowsing rains wash over
in a cleansing rain

Refresh the dust and ashes
the fallow summer leavings
What once was a blossoming presence,
evolving into a dimming  
cold winter reign...

Now all that remains is but
a shadow of what once was;
hearts and bones nearly eroded away
by the years of fallen tears

To rinse away unrequited love’s
stagnant inversion, washing away
the invisible bonds that bind
to the loathsome heavy ball
of an unforgiving chain ...

Know the cleansing rain
is the spirit of love, washing over
a malnourished heart of soul;
exposed and bared *****
to a remiss world

Looking out with thoughtful eyes
into the boundless universe
Never to stop believing
rejuvenating dreams course beyond
this long road

Imagine the storm clouds
parting in the ominous
threatening sky
as an uplifting awakening light
comes shining through;
renewing the promise
that surrendering to love
shall renew purpose

and it feels like rain...
baby can you feel it (?)

December 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved                  .
The first cleansing rains of Oregon Autumn
sent me looking back for this poem
from The Word Whisperer collection
unpublished here after the conclusion
of my original hp account...I guess at some point
the more things change the more they stay the same?

Its hard to believe it went from : "come September ... when the leaves come falling down"   http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1759619/come-september-when-the-leaves-come-falling-down/   to "cleansing rain" in such a few golden autumn days...
harlon rivers Apr 2017
Earth Day, April 22, 2017  "give back to Earth",
as an "offering" for all the planet gives us.**
For Global Earth Day information visit:  http://www.earthday.org/

       Her ominous shadow
             shown a path
   far beyond the miles high
  a majestic mountain stood

   Silently climbing down
         million year old  
      steep canyon walls
               at dawn,
  each step chosen carefully
     coursing with purpose

    Finding a way forward
         was the only way
           to look back up
      river carved ravines
     where higher ground
              once stood

  Instincts drawn downward
       gravity feed towards
         the faint murmurs
       deep echoes tracery
   down sheer basalt cliffs

          Artesian waters'
       resounding gurgles ―
     bubble up to quench
     a lost soul’s incurably
   intrinsic parching thirst;
       to find an unfolding
       metamorphic peace
     in the trove of igneous
     fountain veins of earth

    There’s not need to wait
      on sunrise pathways lit ―
   there is no fear of gravity’s
     downward silent weight  
      nor burden to be borne

Listening beyond dark silence      .
      igneous bedrock roots
     beckon deeper expanse ;
  spirit realms of ancient souls
     whisperer like thunder
        to the soul of man ―

Awakening ruptured lifelines
    deep below earthen crust ,
    creations hidden essence
     eternally remembered
         by the light above ...

April  2017 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
deep artesian rivers flow
from the wellspring fountain of soul...
     homage to planet earth ―
Celebrate World Earth day ... April 22nd, 2017
Umi Feb 23
The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council.
As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in
line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line.
Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action,
Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye,
make it through and let this scene shine further more.
Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind,
Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it.
Now as the soil is fertilised, life will surely grow from the sunlight.
Alike the raindrops are carried by the wind, my mind engages with this scene, lets me fall in love with this beautiful earth.
A little rain shall not be the cause of sadness, as it truly is a reminder of the moments of love wich it makes easier to determine.
So I keep my gaze out of the window and enjoy the weather
Until then, the sky clears up and the sun shines again.

~ Umi
harlon rivers Nov 2017
Hops and topsy-turvy jumps ― blurred movement
muddles across  the dewy meadow floor,
as though dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic
from the corner of sleepy eyes,
                                  to cast an enchanting spell
    A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…
    hastily,  halting ,   frozen motionless

Stillness, as if some final destination has been reached…
Neck stretched and craning,
tilted with an eye to mother earth ;
a canted focus beyond interruption
   In the blink of an eye,
   with a vigor too rapid to capture,
   as the nowness of urgency flashes ― 
   She stretches the earthworm
   with the grasp of subsistence
knowing after fall   becomes the long winterlude.

The morning sun illuminates the glow of the native Maple’s
glorious fiery orange and yellow color palette  
A steady stream of animation rushes in and out
   of the giant tree’s golden splendor

Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay.
Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts
have left the red breasted robbers foraging
for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.

   Harbingers of spring…
   Blueberry sneakers…
   Gleaners of fall and winter..

“Teeek”  “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep”....
        fills the overhead air
   with a beautifully chaotic verve

The flock returns repeatedly     to and fro     the towering Maple
to the ripened cornucopia of scarlet berry clusters of the Mountain Ash

The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights
Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear
   as if it were only an unspoken allusion
          of the passing seasons

The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop
          for the fickle fleeting migrants
Daylight fades as the flock disappears
          into a break                in the clouds
fleeting unto the ominous pending winter sky…

In the blink of an eye ... life’s  senescent seasons
transform the stormy whirling winds of change
bearing the golden Autumn leave’s splendor
   across the rolling vista
like a higgledy-piggledy murmuration
   of a migrating beautiful mess

The ***** rooted scaffold’s branches stretch
across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary.
Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins,
    arrive on a frosty new dawn
Red breast feathers puff with the morning sun’s rays,
warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky;
   Their journey here and now,
from distant mountainous horizons,
   is part of a soul’s sacred circle of life…

November rivers ...the final autumn entry of 2017
Postscript:  ... something fitting and gentle for a beautiful fall  morn
in the Pacific Northwest ~ I've realized I want to share lighter moments in life when they are writ,  readers or not...this is for the few with eyes that see beyond the obvious sense of nature's vastitude ...ubiquitous zen ~

The Mountain Ash grove is always a fascinating spectacle in the fall…After watching for several days…recording the thoughts, mentally painting the picture for a sit down at the table, in the window with a pen and paper  tablet.   Today was the day for a 30 minute stream of natural consciousness in this narrative prose poem about a reoccurring seasonal fascination with the American Robin’s cycle of life…
When I stop to ponder the irony, actually our circle of life is just as round…

Some say all poetry is about the writer, at least in some subtle way,
even when they try to convince themselves it is not...
This writer wants his poems to become just as personal to the reader,
whether a writer or not ...Why say that here & now?
As most writing from me is too deep for many readers...
we all need to breathe deeply and exhale a sigh now and then... these days
I try to stay out of the Robin's way... it's my  nature's way
Giving up attachment to things is impossible...
"Attachment to things drops away by itself
when you no longer seek to find yourself in them."

... thank you for reading "it's only water" final fall chapter

Flight of the Red Breasted Robin
Written by:   h.a. rivers
Cné Jun 2017
The smell of rain precedes the storm
that looms out in the west.
The sound of distant thunder
causes racing in my chest.

The temperature begins to drop
as I begin to flee
Seeking shelter from the storm
beneath a lonely tree.

I cower there, although I know
this haven's a mistake.
I know this is a lightning rod
but that's the chance I take.

The clouds, like battlements,
now, tower overhead
they fill my heart with dread.

Drops of rain begin to fall
and plop among the leaves
Followed my the icy hail
that toward my shelter weaves.

A branch has fallen near my crouch
and nearly I am crushed.
My choice to wait beneath the tree
now seems a little rushed.

I stumble out into the storm.  
The rain is driving hard.
Lightning strikes the tree I'd left.  
The trunk is black and charred.

How foolish was my little hike
in spite of warnings thus.
Stay at home when storms approach
or next time...take the bus
Really I was in my car in a terrible storm but it was very scary.
jane taylor Apr 2016
as winter acquiesces to the blazing sun
a soothing breeze softly grazes tips of aspen
gently shedding past liaisons
a perfect panacea
allowing wild freedom for summer’s dawn

healing from the ominous night
a flower gingerly releases its grasp
leaning into golden rays of summertime
keenly aware of newfound vulnerability
it yawns into the light

a rousing essence induces
a silhouette of life once thought lost
prodding river’s rigid ice blue crystals
to melt and flow with buoyant wonder
kaleidoscopic-like waves

having weathered near annihilation
a sculptured consciousness remains
painting summer clouds with soft-hued wisdom
all awakens from the dream
and should the cold return once more

the sun will shine again

Next page