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One each end of a shelf
Victorian figurines
A boy and girl
Like crystalline
With stiff edged lace.
Never fell in love
But still precious
Bought by a Godmother
Who did not have children.

Then the plaster dancers
Spied in a box of my father’s
Given by a poor grandmother
Loved these two
With their net “tutus”
Such graceful arms
Long pointed legs
Felt their life twirling.

The difference between
Two worlds
The rich and stiff
Poor but beautiful.
My bedroom shelf,
With a poster of
Mick Jagger,
in the middle,
smiling.

Love Mary x
This was my bedroom shelf in Streatham London.
Adilson Smith Feb 22
I’ve long admired him,
This steely Atlas,
Denying the dark its nightly ambition.

He is like a footman, stiff
With some serious duty.
Trusted, and attentive.

Are we so different, he and I?
He eyes the conic territory
To the front

And to the back
Of his splendid center.
Gaze both ways.

I pursue my own illuminations;
The past and the future
Lie always in the light

Of my useless attention.
How I wish I could limit its reach.
I want a cross section

A liminal lamina
Pitched in the present
Exquisitely flat.

Not this glaring two-way torchlight 
This sapping compound
Of anxiety and regret.
Kiva Beth Oct 2017
Once it started opening up,
Like a wound, the pearl sheen of skin deepening into a red,
As rare as the perfect rose,
And just as treasured.

Bones dense around my heart,
And lock themselves in place,
Stifling the voice, two beats -
The third one silent.

The fourth,
The fifth,
The third.

You are my arms outreached but selfish,
Hands open but stiff,
Palms red.
.
The waves spilled the rising tide
back into the scattered footprints  in the sand
deeply entrenched in life’s mystery,
receding into every breaking wave


A stiff sea breeze put back every grain of sand,
elements of a larger object gathers,
gravity firmed, into the silent shoreline chasms—
the beheld essence washed out to sea
by the fugitive tides and retreating sea-foam


Soon all trodden traces visibly vanish;
unmarked mileposts on a metaphysical pathway
slip away back to a windswept shoreline
and elapsing summer tide


Seabirds glide in slow-motion,
held sway into the shapeless gusts —
as if feathered puppets hovering,
hanging from the rafters
of the burgeoning orange sky


There's an uncommon peace in the renaissance;
effervescent crisp ocean air filling in
the indefinable emptiness
marooned within each heartbeat’s echo


Each new breath inhaled,  disappearing within
the unhealed hollow of every thing once believed;
fully aware this life is unholdable as time,
yet feeling many things deeply retained
    in each passing moment—
slipping away like a handful of sand
sifting through all these hands once held


Presence becoming wreathed in a miasma of stillness,
space that levitates like an unpredictable fog
that seeps into the gnawing voids
of an unsated hunger



harlon rivers  ...  August 1st,  2018
Getting away from my ordinary life maze seems to be changing perspective; moments still unfold as they are intended, but there is less peripheral distraction, more focus on the simple things that enrich life in the moment.

I did not plan on posting anything else until back to daily Internet access
in Fall ... plus, much I've scribbled these days, seems derivative of the last  pieces i've published: that said, this is of the present moment and as close to peace as I've tread in eons:  Thank you for taking the time to check out something newly written at a time when my web access and participation @ HePo is sporadic at best.   :)  rivers
Chiron Jul 29
She was the sky
She reflected my light down to earth
My muse
That inspired my words
my ideas for weeks
She came suddenly one night
Out of the blue
Her quiet voice
soothing my saddness
She comforted me
in those moments so lonely
As the days went by
we played together
we talked
I held her hand
I swear i did
I kissed her lips
I promise...i did
but
as time carried on
She became stiff
rigid
and i followed suit
Her face started to fade
slowly
I pretended not to notice
even as her hands no longer
touched mine
She sat farther away
When she turned from me
that last time
I knew
She was the sky and
she wasnt ever even real
Has the image of someone in your mind ever been more real than they ever were?
Darianshae Jan 21
Is it rape if you don't kick and scream? But you said no. But you drank ... it was your choice they would say so happily they found a crawl space to make it out for the future of this poor man. Is it rape if you never told anyone about it? Is it rape if you waited 3 years too long? You wanted so badly to run but your body didn't move throughout it all, so stiff you remembered. Why didn't you scream then is what they'll say. I wanted so badly to shout and run away. I wanted so badly to come out about this rape. But I didn't so, it's my fault they would victim blame. They would say since he has a platform, she only wanted attention off it. They would let him slide because after all he's so young and talented why would we want to ruin his life. Yet hers is already ruined .
The thing that hurts the most is the easiest thing to write about
In the last 5 month's
Both my cats have
passed away
My mornings now so quite
I miss them both everyday

Romero
(Jan 08=Feb 18)
Such a magnificent cat
always ready for his morning cuddle and chat
Like a big black panther he did look
Children thought him angry for his purring they miss took
You could lift him with two hands he'd be stiff like a plank
Put him round your neck
he'd hang there all lank
Such a chilled
layed back cat
was he
and he loved to curl up
on your knee
He'd knock on the door
if locked in a room
My poor Romero
dying way to soon

Destiny
(Mar 09=July 18)
This little puss so very pretty
timid at times
and a little bit skitty
Some days you'd not see her  
she'd hide away
But then
she could happily sit on your lap
all day
You'd see her meowing
without making a sound
She loved playing with tissue balls
smacking them around

Afternoons spent with each other
playing hide and seek
there would be chasing
with stealth like pacing

Now beside Romero
forever Destiny shall lay
In our garden under the rose bush
So forever they may play
Missing my cats terribly
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