"omnipresent" poems
Rolling down St. John's Heritage Highway
after Sean, my grandson's birthday party
I belt out my pioneer song with vigor
echoing across the vast beauty,
wide open, sacred spaces
pristine vistas
Norman Rockwell cows grazing
in bygone pastures happily
moo along
Driving past the yellow deer crossing sign
Florida woodlands giddyap near the edge of the road
long brown antlers prancing to
a timeless rhythm
I hope and pray that I can somehow
kindle a spark of appreciation
in my niece and grandsons
so that they may behold
the baffling greatness
and mystery that is our universe
These young'uns are mighty attached to the
virtual reality, world and landscape
of computer technology
A sprinkling of cowboy stars flash
an omnipresent wink
Sunset bonfire explodes across
the frontier horizon
Turning the corner onto Emerson Drive
smoldering scarlet orange embers
reflecting lights
shoot fireworks, launch rockets
through an ever expanding field of vision
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
Iridescent celestial being
An anarchic yet effervescent adolescent
Frolicking freely like a breeze throw the leave of an omnipresent forest.
Bare foot and star gazing, native and trail blazing.
Like a clever fearless fairy exploring the faraway night sky
She is the fantastic bit of magic on an otherwise static planet.
The captain of passion and best little hippie on the mountain
Formed by a volcanic fountain that caused a panic on our little oceanic planet.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
Scattered across my bedroom floor,
glimmers of light staccato on wilted rose pedals
Memories of us,
the faintest slapback of the person I was with you,
flicker with lethargic buoyancy
Fondness for fondness sake,
denial as a delicacy
Your face, obscured in these floral polaroids
Impressions of who you were;
what you meant to me,
a struggle to behold
but recognizable in ripples across the faces of others
Remains of an entanglement that seemed to answer
why the universe was even formed to begin with
This omnipresent truth laying abed the other
jagged reality of our affair;
it was never you,
it was my self-possessing pursuit of wholeness
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 9:10 AM UTC
I need to read love poetry
For the same reason monks read bibles
the irrepressible need to believe
That love exists
That love is omnipresent, omniscient, all powerful
That it is eternal
For someone somewhere, at least
The emptier I feel, the more I read
Let me believe
Someone kisses
Crusty eye-lids in perfect bliss
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
kites riding the eastern breeze
inner child hiding in the canopy of leaves
singing to the tune of the birds
lies being highlighted by the omnipresent sun
bring to light what you buried, sweeter than my metaphorical cherry
you cannot escape what you have done, you must remember the ones you have shunned
even if it's only to take note of, what not to do
even if it feels too much, I know you could
even if the world is too rushed, you know what to do
going down the wormhole, deep dive
my memories come in handy, high five
to save my sanity as I live life
getting my light underneath the full moon
Oct 22, 2021
Oct 22, 2021 at 10:47 AM UTC
A stranger she was
Was it fate or
Was it destiny
That made us meet?
Although never face to face
I see in her amazing grace.
Swiftly she moves
To the rhythm of life.
People trying to bring her down
But she won't bow
To the undeserving.
*She is strong
She is beautiful.*
Ready to fight the world,
In she will come
Like a whirl.
Assurance is what she needs
And assurance I will give.
"Love, don't be sorry"
Said I to her,
And poured my heart out
Through these words.
I hope she realizes
The strength within,
The power to face the world
And not beat herself up.
Cruelty never dies
It's omnipresent.
But she can conquer the galaxies
If she wants.
I believe in her with all my heart,
Nothing comes above
I will forever be with her
*She is my love
She is my soul sister.*
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
Even if,
It may be just me
Who notices
There you are
Omnipresent
As an inspiring serine
A wondering dandelion
In the verses
Those verses, I read
And in the verses, I write
This is not just
A mystery
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
You are the book written by the mystic eternal,
in sub atomic particles of each and everything
after transcending the limits of time,
on the wings of the thought in the primordial core,
that witnessed the seeds being sowed in the beginning.
I am entrenched in the inner urge of the spread of everything,
the surge of cosmic mind, all the five elements
the Brahman, most sublime, omnipresent,
at once, inert and omnipotent, a feat one of a kind
the waves of music, the subtle "ÄUM" containing all,
even when the symphony begins, and climbs to the crescendo
when self and the Master, my cosmic significant other,
merge in YOGA, the ocean, the confluence of consciousness.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
In the light
Shadows are prisoners
And prisoners we are to our shadows
But if shadows could speak
I think they'll say
*I am no prisoner
I am but a listener
I guide the light
and shape
the stars
I am detailed
craftily inked
I am what links
us all*
**In the darkness
Our shadows are free
And we are free from our shadows
But if shadows could speak
I think they'll say
***I am beyond free
I am everywhere
omnipresent
and omniscient
I shade what most
aren't aware of
I am the protector
The keeper
of all secrets
I am defined
by none***
But if shadows could speak
will anyone still feel lonesome?
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 4:12 PM UTC
The late January 2 p.m. sun is as follows:
- omnipresent
- ten thousand photon hands per body
- shining through souls;
> flesh has no stopping force if completely unraveled and dissolved in the sweetness of spring;
the promise.
a spring something that wafts through the still fresh year air,
the one that gets animals and humans alike frantic,
pink in patches, rhythms beating,
resonance seeking of matter against matter,
Surface vertical,
horizontal,
--Phasing--
& Finally
Upwards when we merge,
having found each other,
released in sync
into the sky;
Light
and heavy with the journey.
And then I kiss you again.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 4:02 PM UTC
In the wondrous story book of night,
I fully absorb and contemplate,
You were the one omnipresent,
in light years far and flames near.
As orbs of light, in many intensities and hues
the ray of infinite grace that envelops,
That feels like the caressing of lotus petals,
was you my eternal beloved.
Soft, frothing moon light has been
at times of pain my true consolation,
The moving comet my source of wonder,
that takes me to you in imagination.
A reader, I was keenly searching.
for meanings of things in light and dark
Being another character formed
of dust sedimented from many stars.
You are enshrined in the diamond
temple of my mind's still center
making you my lover was
in honor of my yen for sublime.
The story book of night has pages
on spirited mornings, noons and dusk
your benign presence in each step,
moves galaxies and milky ways.
I see your moving eye brows
in the tumult of dark rain clouds,
Your intense eyes flash love to me
when in pain,if I feel some doubt,
In waves one after another of ocean,
your hands embrace me to assure,
mountain wind from far distance
brings your songs nightingales sing.
I am a living monument that's breathed
from the elements , to keep on loving you
not ever a jealous lover,I am like a millioner
ready to sacrifice all just for your presence.
Is there any other lover with such care
who brings boundless grace, like you?
you've the very same eyes of my mother
that reach me the moment I fall.
In days I am moving within a dream
for which, you are the creator, moving spirit,
I turn the pages of storybook of night
whenever I want to be closer to your warmth.
A mirror you are reflecting my candor,
, more than anything I ever yearned for,
You are the river that flows along me,
to the ocean, eternally seething in wait.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
Gathered pieces of a great puzzle ;
refreshed perspective like ocean riptides
foment at the confluence collecting dark rivers’ flow
Repurposing back-eddies ,
rejuvenation of stagnant brackish waters ,
inherent buried soul-shine purging
from the ancient core of earth mother
Light arising from the hidden depths
of inner stillness as if a refilling wellspring
burst forth , reawakening muted sighs unspoken
Forming poetic constellations of black and bright
to lighten afar the nebulous darkness ,
a sea of swirling ink transformed into poetry
A sage opus renewed
by the muse of a migrating flock ,
striving to discover new sacred grounds ;
yet there is an undeniable song sung
in the howling winds of change
An incitement from a higher dialect
that empowers a restoration of spirit
Oeuvre uplifted by rogue waves
of summoning winds ,
arousing that which time erases
A manifest renaissance
among the rousing nuances
of poetic continuum ,
judicious to rediscover
the enthralling vastitude
of every breaking wave
in a boundless sea of poesy
Where prevailing currents
stir oceans of verse eternal ;
provoking a verve revival ,
the magnitude of an unbroken circle ,
ocean swells merging singularity
with the omnipresent colour
of uncharted depths
As if thoughts are assuaged
by a union of intimately touching souls
with words of intangible spheres ,
sparking subtle shades of meaning
spanning poetic immortality
Transcending barriers of unexplored lexicon
to manifest the immensity,
enkindling rhapsody of hearts and minds
Deeply rooted soul replenishment
harvested from the tree of humankind ,
willingly sharing without regret nor intention ,
with deference to the soul of one-blood,
one-love enabling an enlightening
metamorphosis of the human journey ...
© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
Boys play football in my heart
Their ball falls in a canal in
Venezia.
It's lost in
Venezia because I closed my eyes,
Guidebook in hand--
Phrasebook at my side--
Dictionary omnipresent somehow--
Mother calls them inside, it's time to learn again.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
Agung, Abang, Batur
sacred volcanoes
gateways to Gaia
standing silent
omnipresent
dawn’s light your only adornment
at your feet
paddy fields
emerald carpets
across which you stride
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 2:30 PM UTC
forgive me
for committing the sin of looking for you
here, there, and everywhere.
forgetting the cardinal truth
that you’re the omnipresent one!
to think i could think of you,
the one who’s beyond all thoughts
my trespass too.
forgive me.....
© 2022
Jun 26, 2022
Jun 26, 2022 at 1:23 PM UTC
Candy-sweet ballads
****** heartache arias
Undying
soulmate
anthems
Everywhere I go
The soundtrack never changes
But no one else
seems
to notice
Red-rose shades of white noise
Heart-shaped confetti stuck in my ears
Jangling
omnipresent
sound waves
The song everyone is singing
Grates against my inner drum
It's not
the kind
I'm looking for
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 1:38 AM UTC
Three thousand miles
navigating a storm
without drop of bad weather
Abacus odometer clicks
rotating forward ―
spinning with the
world go round
Circling back down
a long and winding road;
where unforgotten memories
were once searchingly explored,
untrodden pathways
coursing way up north of alone
on the low highway
Now an aging shepherd
wonders without a compass ;
a vagabond deprived of light
from an ever blurring north star
Heart empty as a gas tank
with a broke down gauge,
running on fumes of hope
for unpromised tomorrows
Running from loneliness
just to be on the run
The gales of silence bellow
No feelings I can see ― lay me low
Wild-eyed daydreams
of Full sails billow out
through the windshield,
only hearing the unspoken
moments sigh restlessly ―
The dull droning road rumble
re-sighs renunciatively,
a tired monotone voice
mimicking the loathe silent echo
wallowing in an
omnipresent hollow void
deriding unspoken chaos
between the passing centerlines ―
A frost heave pothole erupts,
with a leaf-spring rattling thud,
as a fleeting cloud of dust arises,
set adrift with the draught
headed off the east side
of the Alcan highway:
blown way outside the lines,
towards the Alberta prairie
White knuckled steering wheel
held sway, rolling down
a beckoning wilderness
reincarnation;
default reset button paused ―
stuck in a moment ― until another jaw rattling
frost-heave pothole in the highway,
jars it free
Leaving it all behind
like a sigh breathed
in a silence a heart has outgrown;
just a fleeting cloud of dissipating dust,..
a paling whisper
the past seems to send forth
like a fading last breath
Letting it all unfold to become what it is
harlon rivers ... May 2018
... travelogue 2 of some
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
5:00 am - Happy New Year!
I look like I should be a musician not a poet.
"It's so easy being a poet
so hard being a man"
- Charles Bukowski
----
5:14 am - Passing Rocklea, no sign of the dawn.
Coopers Plains station.
3 people get on.
Florescent lights cast a spell of sleep.
I wish I could sleep right now.
Eyelids droop like sad flowers from a convenience store.
I write metaphors like a drunken amateur.
Trinder park - Sounds like a bad neighbourhood.
**** ME ITS WOODRIDGE.
Where even the McDonalds sign is ******
XxXxxxxxx, Xxxxxx Xxxxxx :
She could be fun. So tight, she sometimes felt illegal.
Tight and bald. I would slide up to the *****
She loved it rough,
golden hair wrapped around my fingers
as she was pushed into the pillow.
She was loud in the mornings.
I could feel her tight ***
grinding against my thighs
as I ****** her harder and harder.
Until I came :
either inside her.
Or on her chest.
Or in her
prim
pink
suburban mouth.
Tightening my grip on her hair as the hot ***** spurted against the back of her throat.
The head of my **** throbbing as she gulped it down with silent satisfaction.
That only happened twice though.
----
5:37 am - The Dawn begins to rise over the Suburban Nation.
Final remnants of night
twinkle like stars
against the silhouette
of society.
House lights
Street lights
(and the omnipresent)
fluorescent light.
Beenleigh station - A pinch faced older woman gets on.
Business suit, lunch box.
Short hair, glasses.
Her earrings are imitation mother of pearl
(step-mother of pearl?)
She sits next to a window covered in graffiti.
Prim, tight mouth
incarnadine lipstick.
Over in the distance a smokestack cuts through the sky above the horizon.
Trees do mask the sun and sky.
"Hippies; they spend their whole life trying to get to a microphone and when they do, they don't tell anyone to **** off." - The Wolfman.
----
5:52 am - One more stop.
The clouds are the colour of smoke against the pearl blue sky.
----
6:00 am - Arrival.
Clouds are tinged with fire and blood
incandescently.
You can watch it spread and grow
with intensity.
Taxi driver was a foul mouthed Indian.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Unluckily, I am an offspring of two different genotypes,
For it, I so often face the reverse apartheid by a faction,
That faction particular is omnipresent in this nation.
Unseemingly, extremely patriotic I do feel except during cricket,
They look, at my face and deduce that I am not one of them,
That I speak their tongue more eloquently doesn't count..
Up North, they think that my nose is a bit like a Dravidian,
But down South, they often think that I am an Aryan,
That boycotts me in this land of the Indian nation...
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC
in an omnipresent haze
of cerulean blue
and vivacious velvet petals
where irises swim in lovely chaos
as I mutter several choice expletives
under my breath.
He burrows himself
deeper under my skin
stealing the breath from my lungs
rousing my beleaguered soul
awakening a feral need.
I relish this murky maze of desire
he elicits from me
and hungrily
await his return
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 7:37 PM UTC
~Christi Michaels~December 2015~
**the air presents tranquility
zephyr winds which blow on high
swirling within the troposphere
veiled serenity
clouds stealthy shift
covering brilliant, poignant stars
air masses
a juxtaposition
tension exists between...
omnipresent
yet unseen.
the sky illuminates..sparks of light
swarms of fireflies
ubiquitous in flight
there is a calm
steady as a drone
unwavering in its commitment
to a reality yet unknown.
till the shift proceeds
balance moves to tilt
calm planes of matter
Present ready to meld
celestial balance
no longer in alignment
exploding outward
defying confinement
fragile realization
of a squall revealed
friction surmounts
air becomes thick
atmosphere now dense
expanding as it pulls in
a tempest has arrived
opposition exists
shards of electricity
violently ripping open
the sky above
zephyr winds which
blow on high
the inevitable calm before the storm**
* * * * *
Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC
Deed is a word connected to each living being,
Seed is an analogy to it, if at both, simulteneously we are seeing.
Jealousy, ego and hatred try to stand first in life's queue,
But kindness and love are omnipresent in different hues.
Its always on what we give that we get to keep,
So always remember, "As You Sow, So Shall You Reap"..
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
The empty air has a bitter tone
When it bites at my fingers
And yells profanities in an unrecognizable tongue.
It stings when it sings.
It has an aberrant gait
And a detached mien,
This lack-of being.
The tempest’s strides jounce its overly-wide shoulders;
Its prominent brow sends an antagonistic shadow
Cascading down its lip and jaw.
This active silence whispers age-old secrets
Its fingers tousling the amber leaves
Of my autumn’s long-dead trees.
The sound resonates,
And this taunting, all-knowing,
Omnipresent, nonexistent-but-still-there wind
Smiles at my naïveté.
Weary under the weight of the world
And the smog of self-importance.
Its eyes are clouded with grey rain,
Its teeth sharp with a bitter resentment;
“I’ve disliked you since the 1700s,” it breathes,
Throwing an airy, acrid gaze at humanity.
(“I’m sorry, but it is you who made me this way,
With your scornful industrialization.”)
Its eyes are frigid, piercing,
Wicked, yet reserved.
Cruel in their taunting assumptions,
Yet,
In those forget-me-not eyes
I found the sky.
May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 5:36 PM UTC
step one: mark out your
territory, bordered by
sea surf on the one side and
beach towels on the other;
dig a moat to the left and right so
no one can intrude upon your
Fortress of Solitude.
step two: build a sandcastle.
ignore the imminent
tides and the omnipresent
ravages of gravity; they are
irrelevant to your
Dream of Isolation.
step three: come to realize
that you are not
happy despite
getting exactly what you wanted:
welcome to the real
world kiddo. I hope you
found what you're
Looking For.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC