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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 naked
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unpublished here after the conclusion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...
The waves
crash on
the shore
of the eyes,
I wished
to create
worlds with
my mind
that the
lips fail
to convey,
I observe
the drifting
journey,
as the mind
wanders to
the paintings
of metaphysic
nature, where
everlasting
stories are
found, as
I am lost
perpetually
in wonder,
on and on,
I will live
through
another,
as the dew
caressing
the endless
being of now,
the world I
had known
once cursed
me for being
a dreamer,
though I
feared not,
for the heart
of mine,
possessor
of truth,
was never
vulnerable,
tears created
the clouds
I held within
my chest,
where I
float
as the
wings of
thousand
white doves,
the cage has
fallen, I have
risen as the
one who
saw the
light in
others
when they
failed to
have seen
it within
their own
chests,
I am the
bringer
in the
garden
of words,
I am aware of
the unavowed
lost ways of
conversation,
where the
cherry
blossoms
seek the
surrender
of the leaves
within the
deepest parts
of the beautiful
mind, elusive
as the reflection,
wavering as a
chameleon,
even though,
the heaven in
my breath
will never
fade, as the
grace of the
delicate ones,
hidden to them
was the nature
of the imperfections,
forming something
so untouchably
incandescent,
I had seen
the truth,
and soon,
they shall
see it too,
I and them
shall walk
the earth,
soaring
from our
fingertips,
I will hope
they look to
the skies,
and find this
reminiscence,
where the
clouds
ripple,
angels
are near,
I will wish
for them
to see how
these words
I have written
are sacred,
for beauty
lies in
secrecy,
waiting
for you.
neha yamba May 2019
when the world was cruel
and you impair

you were alone
and had no give back

when you were bulldozed
for aims you never had

your personality was rescind
and disguised to regular

when you had no choice to
leave and move ahead
you bore the odium of nugatory pack

when you were so good
and gave all your best

you were loathed
and clepe as bad

times when heartbroken you cried to sleep
your head under pillow
words unavowed bide

You turned cold with FIRE inside
it would have been better
IF YOUR SILENCE SPOKE OTHERWISE ....
Mariyah Fales Aug 2018
You don't understand what you've done
You think this is funny
till it really happens hunny

You are calling me all these names
thinking its a joke, till you choke

Killing yourself isn't something to be proud of
so don't be joking about it to someone who is unavowed

It's to the point where I'm barely holding together
wanting to pull the trigger since all I'm in is cold weather

Your 14, skinny, perfect, and smart,
as you're over here calling me words,
that shouldn't be heard.

She thinks its all fun and games
till I actually aim,
lives are changing so you won't be able to claim
... claim my life you're trying to tame.
Bo Tansky Jul 2019
Met you first at the edge of town
Where parallel lives converge
Too close to see the reality
Too close to see the merge
Entrained & double stranded
Twice abandoned
Forged in fire
Etched in stone,
Dressed in a serious tone

Divide:
The divine definition
Served over coffee, wine, and repetition
The overhead sign flashed
Standby Alert

Never one to heed the warning
You were looking straight ahead
On an outward bound,
Dopplered red
Journey

The local doesn’t stop there anymore.

The stranger that you were seeing
Detached from all-mighty reason
Feeling tracts of the weatherworn
Like leather shorn
Shattered by resistance  
Battered by time and insistence
A legacy of perfectionism
Bestowed on you by dogmatism
Stirred by criticism
Seen through a prism schism
From standing on your head
Judging yourself upside down
Perspective’s reflection
Ism prison
Makes perfect sense
A hole in groundism


Storied teller without a soundism
Rhythm or such
Downtown, cafed, solitary lunch bunch
Saying no to this, no to that
So comfortable
When there’s something to defend
And there always something to defend

The exonerated accused of insanity
Righteous indignation abomination nation
To the guilty acquitted by reason of sanity
For strategizing one side
Side Lies
Channel changing and codified


The chips are played and unafraid
Free-floating on a reclining cloud
Hovering above the unavowed
Unbuckled crowd
Without blame or explanation


The hand that binds, rewinds
Will eventually set you free


The tracks began to dance
A lazy sideways glance
Carving a figure eight
Keeping time
With a measured gate
Pausing as they crossed
Hand over hand
In infinity seeing speck
An aspect
Dancing on ice
They spin
So without
So within
Pirouette going around and around
Everyone stepped aside
Later they all took a side

“Never saw it coming.

You know, he never should have left.

Yes but, how do you know it was him?

I heard she was bereft.”

The moment was tenuous
Always slipping from grasp
Always a handout for help
Always a mask
The mask it
Fell from where it was hanging and
Broke in half              
You were off autopilot
Without a staff


Yes, to whatever you say
I’m that way
You must first introduce yourself
Forgive yourself
For all the isms’
They were never ever you
The isms aren’t all bad
They just embody the essence
Of all that is had.
Formerly the Philadelphia
     Electric Company,
     I wholeheartedly acclaim
founded in 1881, and
     incorporated in 1929,
     thence acronym
     (PECO) byname
viz this recipient

     as longtime customer,
     I herewith favorably deliver
    unstinting praise, and exclaim
my biased opinion,
     sans rewardable, reputable,
     and reliable utility
     earned local fame
sparring fairly, and

     became linkedin
     with Exelon
     Corporation in 2000,
     asper heated
     competitive rain dear game,
and if said
     Power full provisioner
     piping natural

     gas (for profit)
     analogously personified,
     would be
     accorded title grandame
forever abiding, deserving,
     and enduring
     of benevolence
     however lame

such a comparison
     would acquire
     (from me - Matthew
     Scott Harris by name)
cuz steadfast
     commendable, laudable,
     and reliable
     quality performance,

     this idea overcame
mine haphazard ferreting
     for a sedulous industry,
     and poetic material
     (today October 27th, 2018)
     rather brisk temperature  
     (40+ degrees Fahrenheit),
     warranting this overtame

     "polar bear club
     member" wannabe to proclaim
unavowed, unbridled,
     and unwedded warm
     noble bliss oblige toward
     valuable commercial entity,
     which positiveness
     I can only reframe

so many ways, asper basking,
     experiencing, and indulging
     (albeit with moderation) tame
ming (actually bring
to an abrupt halt)
     my fleeting fling

to bare the raw cold,
no matter this
     indentured knight
     in teeth chattering armor,
     doth newt cease shivering.

— The End —