"reawakening" poems
There is no need for
discernable lines
in the moment
I am content.
there is no need for anything.
but the moment.
naked & anxiously
awaiting reawakening
& my hands betray me
by shaking & blantantly saying
you've swayed me
it's crazy.
today I created nothing
& I am wasted anything
& everything.
but it's okay.
the mosaic is
a face faded
in the foreground.
this is fair ground.
today I'll walk on air
today I'll float on clouds
today I'll foam at the mouth
then I'll roll around
in my beloved filth
that you brought about.
be proud,
I can't be without it.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
*Hungered for a taste
of your elixir's essence,
drunken inhalations
of your poetry
a splendiferous whirl
of time & space 'tween
darkly scented moons
and sun's adoration,
blithe starry nights
amidst meditative new
dawn's effervesce,
spirited of the heart,
gleaned in the soul,
yearnings of another
chapter's paradise
universal experiences
etched of hourglass sand,
written upon endlessly
chimerical verses
wildflower gardens drenched
of dandelion's plum wine
swooning under a
hypnotic scripted spell,
intoxicating power
of unchained symphonies
dancing amongst skies'
released euphoria
resonating in a song's
reprised melodies,
breathlessness of delirium's
celestial pauses
in vaporous breezes'
unfurling undulation,
captivated by rhythmic
destiny reverberating in
loins' pleasurable calling
quenched of sacred
offering's quell
transcending earthly
persuasions' rhyme,
let me lick the nectar from
your poesy's insatiable lips,
sweet mercy's healing
captured in rapturous
surrender's reawakening ~*
*Je veux que vous tous,
tu me manques*
Ce que vous manquez de moi?
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:05 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
On trembling thigh he could no longer run,
How long ago had this begun?
Slowly down unto frosted field he fell,
How long he'd been running through this waking hell?
From his aching tired chest, he desperately clung to his final frozen breath,
Could it be he'd finished this eternal test?
Weeks had passed in silent still he laid,
Each moment lived, relived within, an' thus his suspended suff'ring began to fade
Return'd back to th' breast of Earth from whence it came
Th' body of man will forever decay the same
Then struck, an infinite instant in which pain and hate he'd known none.
Anew to the world, reborn to new flesh and time, his soul awoke with the desperate need to run.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
The morning fog
paints the forest hillside
an ashen shade of pale
dawn shadows
arising — stumbling
through the dark,
disappearing
like some kind
of disappointment
drifting in the memory
of a forgotten dream
a sigh settles
in a fragile breath
upon the windowpane
then drools down
upon the sill
like gathered dust
on an empty
picture frame
a sudden gust
of loneliness brings
a reawakening shiver
whispering silently
as an old violin
without a bow,
tuned to a forlorn
hidden ache —
in the quiet darkness
of your memories
Jesse Stillwater
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Bitter complaints under an umbrella
I ignore them as I freely run
Through the invigorating shower of
Tears that freely fall down on me
Like the reawakening that I have always longed for
People stare at me strangely
But I don’t care because I know
Something they will never know
That running through the rain
Cleanses all your sorrows
And makes you soar as a
Bird soars freely through the
Unlimited heavens above
I am one with these birds who freely fly
Through this cleansing water
The rain, my soul cries out in joy
As the people who complain bitterly are missing out
On a true joy of life.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
My body quivers,
the tips of my fingers
pulsating wildly,
beads of sweat collecting
on my furrowed brow,
teeth sinking into
my bottom lip,
breathing in sharp
heaves of breath,
echoing the fast-paced
pulse of my enthusiastically
beating heart,
limbs tingling,
lower extremities losing feeling
as my body becomes absorbed
in the ecstasy
to which it succumbs
as, in one last swift, graceful movement
you make me explode,
my mind orgasming in the
crazy sensation we have
created in the simple
exchange of our
encapsulating dialogue,
reawakening my addiction,
my yearning,
my craving
for another round
of conversation,
rapture unlike
any other I've felt,
in tangibly feeling nothing but your soul
and your words.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
There Is A Reason ihop Is Open 24 Hours A Day.
It's Like A MmMmMm. Pancakes!
Like A Mouth Watering & The Sound Of Fork Scraping Plate, Kind Of Morning, Isn't It?
Sunny Saturday Morning In April, With NPR Playing Over The Radio, And The Sound Of Bacon Sizzling, Kind Of Morning.
Take It From Me.
Watched A Heavy Hearted Seventeen Year Old Sister, Ask For Breakfast Ar Midnight, And The Hours Spent Talking Away Her Heart Ache With Mom Was Just A Side Effect Of The Full Stomach.
Stumble Into This.
With Bloodshot Eyes, And Ripped Up Jeans, 5am And Hung Over.
The Waitress Will Always Take Care Of You.
It's Like Her Duty, Along Side Taking Orders And Refilling Empty Coke Glasses, She'll Serve You
Blackberry,
Blueberry,
Chocolate Chip,
Strawberry Strung,
Bananas,
And Whip Cream Shaped Like A Smiley Face,
Without Any Questions Asked.
Pancakes Are The Breakfast Of Champions. So You Remember This. Your Fork And Knife Battle Weapon, Ready To Turn This 15 Minute Meal Into A Valiant Reawakening.
And Remember You Are King Today.
Staff And Stone, And No One Can Destroy You.
Eat Up, And Be Strong.
Smile.
I Dare You.
Lick Your Fingers, And Ask For Seconds.
This Is Life, And Asking For Another Helping Has Never Been A Bad Thing.
Bite Your Tongue, Drink Back This Moment. I'd Ask You To Taste It, If Your Mouths Weren't Already Full.
I Know, There Will Be Tequila &Wine; Bottles You'll Try To Drown Yourself In.
But I've Learned Something Sticky Sweet Seems To Heal The Broken Edges Just A Little Better.
Daddy Always Said There Was A Reason The Light On The 'Waffle House' Sign Never Went Out. A Warm Plate & A Smile Is Sometimes All You Need To Make A Place Home.
The Next Time You Get Offered Pancakes, Consider It A Token Of Appreciation.
Always Say Yes.
Even If You're Not Hungry.
Take A Bite. You Won't Regret It.
I Promise.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
The flavor of the winter
on a cold morning after
a storm starts with a kitchen full
of busy hand making
while snow is flaking
a warm oven baking.
Steam laced with scents that
engage the heart in happiness while reawakening
childhood memories.
Mugs filled
with the warmth of coffee, tea, or cocoa
that soothes the throat when sipped.
Eyes smiling as
family members not together recently
give good company.
Thoughts of hope and
Happiness fill the soul and the mind
as the holidays usher the year’s end.
~Miguel
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
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
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 11:21 AM UTC
I want to know more than one
Haitian
I want to know more than three
Jamaicans
I want to meet Nigerians that speak
Igbo
Kenyans that laugh at the Swahili I learned in Berkeley
Ugandans that correct my Mandarin
Tanzanians that teach me how to say it in Cantonese
I want to tour the holy city Ile-Ife
trace the pilgrimage path of Mansa Musa
then circle back to Timbuktu
See the reminders of Aksum
See the remainders of Kmt
Touch the Earth and envision the buildings that my ancestors constructed
thousands of years before they were invaded thousands of times
leaving the still standing walls that others never believed were thousands of years old
till their, “science” said so
I want to board a barge in the south and flow north with the Nile
I wonder what eight others will join me
I want to walk the same trail
that was the first trail
compare my foot print
to the first foot print
The vision I see
The things I want to do
The escape I want to take
Isnt one that is new
Its one that is old
so old that its in the blood
in the very fabric and design
of all that claim
Human
What I want is a realization
no
a reawakening
of my genetic inheritance
of my ancestral birthright
What calls me is the land so old
its true name
its original tongue
is the only
can only
be labeled
The First
There
that is what calls to me
There
that is what pushes me
that is the very intangible force that pulsates my heart
pumping the blood through my veins
That place that is forever older than old
yet
In a constant state of
Reconstruction
Recreation
Revelation
Renovation
Revitalization
Revolution
I want to breath the air in that place that is always in a state of newness
I want to feel the frequency in that place
where there are as many words for new
as there are people to speak them
That is the place
That is the space
That is
© Christopher F. Brown 2015
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Summon us the rain yet
With the drums that we recall I
Am the corresponding return
Beautiful lunar and thunder to
A rhythm where all seasons of the
Different viewpoints even ugly in the winter
Are holding up the Universal land
An outer space pond having
Baptized resurrection of acceptance in a chosen
Life-cycle that changes all of the
Symbols through your travels which are heavy.
Changes also equal to soul art
Echo countless metaphors of the
Mindless croaking bond.
Teach in us the thanksgiving of
Heaven's harvest and every single thing
That brings a drunkenness and promise of
Choristers with hymns on stone
For a prolonged life is in and of
What solid reawakening has fortuned deep within upon this earth.
Renewed as well returned I
Carry lucky charms and find that I am
Known in other words bound
With the Spirit to
An ancient stand
That is encountering such places found under
Forces much much before the
Egg existed in a frozen
Past lone part of all creation much much before the thorn
Grew from the rose bush you were jumping by
Far down the brook of evolution where the
Message that you ribbit warm or cold
Is soon discovered befriending those of heart and hearth
As we all listen to your lessons and
The magic song revival that you sing
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
That kiss of me, under the spring-time rain,
Upon your blooming cheek is gone today.
My lips feel cold, but in my burning brain,
That distant memory is warm as May.
I remember your hands all over me,
Rolling upon the summer-grass with joy,
Reawakening a passion of glee,
Taking back every movement that was coy.
It seemed as if we were released from chains
Of commitment, still having many seasons,
To be exploring love, without restrains,
But still held back, because of idle reasons.
We were quite broken by the loss of trust,
Wanting to forget, through a play of lust.
Jan 28, 2022
Jan 28, 2022 at 7:37 PM UTC
Your voice is liquid
Seeping through the cracks of broken bones
Circling cold skin
Reawakening the goosebumps that used to frame my back
That used to frame me
Your voice is desire
Desire of lust
Lust of longing
Longing of former times
Former times filled with liquid
Liquid that runs down my spine and explodes
I’m a million pieces
But a million pieces intertwined with your laugh
A million more filled with your breath
A million, endlessly, in the presence of your heat
You are a fire in the pit of my stomach
Warm, stinging, igniting thick blood
Igniting the coal in my lungs
Igniting what’s left of a frozen fire
Igniting black pupils
Igniting us
And finally, me.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 7:08 PM UTC
*Violaceous twilights,
clandestinely sated
lavished 'til morn's early blush
midst honey suckled euphoria,
poems hidden 'neath
satin pillowcases,
written 'tween the dew
of rendezvous'
blissed arousal
forevermore eagerly breathless,
reawakening intentions
aloft the vast obscurity of
a wistful sunset's surrender*
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
I haven't surrendered myself to someone for far longer than a while,
but the photo that is stuck in my head
is of her and her sunny smile.
Months had passed,
we both had other loves that didn't last,
and as we lay together in the dark,
I swore I felt a spark.
I wonder if she felt it too.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 9:33 PM UTC
*When i say goodbye
Don't wait for my reawakening
Because i am already dead
My sense can't vindicate
What i am!*
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
Like the falling twilight
Love of life fades
And darkness becomes my companion
All within me near withers
Yet the circle of life, of living
Brings the promise of a new day
A reawakening to light
Where happiness and love are found once more
Such is the magic and beauty of life
Twilight and discovery … hand in hand
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 4:29 PM UTC
words.
i just
love
them.
big ones,
little ones.
just love them
they are like
honey on my lips,
poprockz candy to my
brain.
they crackle and fizz:
igniting,
exciting,
vibrating,
reawakening...
synapses too quiescent;
jiggling,
wiggling,
slapping,
trappin,
thoughts....
caught snoozin and napping;
flip flopping
flim flam-ing
photograph
framing...
opinion only halfway dressed;
jitterbuggin,
jiving,
striving
sometimes conniving....
fighting for a voice;
half formed,
brainstormed,
uninformed,
spoken on a baited breathe,
giggle, gaggle,
gobbledegook...
given egress;
hornswoggle,
bing bang boggle,
lolloping through....
galumping,
triumphing,
tree stumping....
both
me
and
yoohoo
too!!!
zip
it,
zinger
coming
on
thru.
my
mind
a
veritable
word
zoo
where i
graze
and nibble
and
nab
a
theasuarus
or
2
.....
words.
i just
love
them.
.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Before I was born here
They lived through the fire
Traveling unseen through the living world
I found not what I desired
When night terrors come alive
Do you remember when we died?
What mysteries do you see
In the black holes of my eyes?
He waits outside the door
I witness my reflection blink
Death is the poor man's doctor
And the silence to minds that think
The rebirth of a deity
The one who was led astray
The reawakening of a warrior
Come to fight another day
I hear the gentle whispers
Dead speaking through lives past
I hear the battle drums blaring
Will this war be my last?
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
Same place
same state
same memory
What if
its our essence
no movement
sanction to experience
what is
no motion to distract
and within the malaise
shifted orientation
acclimatize
Breath reawakening
Nirvana
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 6:05 PM UTC
~for George Harrison~
Very
*soon George, I am bound for
a stilled shaded land, a tiny isle,
which knows the
all encompassing fog,
hurricanes wrath that days linger,
and though memorable,
never the first image recalled,
but a mind's eye video of
a perpetual sunset,
agonizing silenced colored fantasies of farewells,
each unique and alike though all things must pass,
a benign benefit comfort suckled this old man's
never fully at rest visions,
for the sunset is perfect perpetual,
always setting, never settling,
ever bound to surprise,
our farewell is another's welcoming,
and each of our days an
A-1 slicked continuum,
a sliding circularity
and
we sigh, ooh & aah
at it miracality,
its genteel reawakening
we admit with pleasured honesty,
yes, sunsets are a corridor edged,
somewhere it is always sunset,
nevereverending,
and its farewells
are truly truthful welcomings*
<*>
Shelter Island
May 2025
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 1:54 PM UTC
Perusing a concrete jungle
Luminescence hangs from vines in the trees.
Strife rears her horrid head
Making a scene amidst the thoroughfare.
Last words never came so easy,
Now they flow like moths to a flame.
A bitter sweet cacophony fills the air;
It derives in the heart, and
Echoes throughout the mind.
Dissonance abounds the pursuit of vain glory.
Angst it seems has found a new bottled friend
To misplace his faith in.
Pride’s timely advance to the rear
Couldn’t be timed better.
Stoops offer little comfort
Compared to the nest that cradles hatchlings.
A vagrant’s attempt to console loneliness
Falls like music on deaf ears.
Sleep that rarely comes easy
Now seems possible without porcelain prayers.
Resolve attempts a reawakening
On the concrete jungle’s stairs
Only to collapse beneath the weight
Of nature’s tipping point.
Remorse is destined to wait,
At least until first light breaks
The incandescent glow of
The concrete jungle’s neon lights.
Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC