"uncommonly" poems
A sound was heard at my
garden door
A feathered smudge found upon it
There she lay in frightened
trembling dismay
A giant knelt ...
yet still towering above her
He reached out and touched
her pounding heart
Then cupped her warmth
in his hand
She stayed awhile until
she could smile
At the kindly human mystery
This love they shared
is uncommonly rare
She knew she could be freed
Before she flew
she whispered a song she knew
into the gentle giant’s beard :
“I cannot make you happy
You're a wounded Bird like me ―
be Free...
you must find the strength to Fly”…
"A Bird in your hand
is worth two in the bush ―
Come fly away with me"...
March 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
So when my dreams came true
When I got everything I wanted,
I was overcome with joy.
Because desire isn't wrong &
You are allowed to be wildly happy
by being uncommonly blessed.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
So...there's this girl who's rather smart
that, when her lips begin to part,
drives me up the wall in a good way.
I sort of want to see her everyday.
She's usually busy though,
so I occupy
time with one constant sigh
until she calls and then I go.
I don't really know too much about her ---
she's Aphrodite's caricature! ---
no,no, that's a bit rash and inflated,
but in my stomach butterflies've congregated
each time her face comes to mind.
Severely interesting,
her hands are often clean
and she's never proved less than kind.
I think it might be good to write her a song
(I should've been writing this all along)
so that she'll feel sublimely delighted
and is happy, though consistently derided
by the upkeep of her garden's flora.
She could use a lot
of things uncommonly wrought,
like poems stuffed with anaphora.
*In time all the snowflakes will evaporate.
In time the sun will sleep under an iron leaf.
In time acetylene darkens human hate.
In time all time will seem quite brief.*
So, in honor of her I have created
this mediocre song so dominated
by use of the Yeats-stanza's rhythmic-rhyme,
offering it to her as ends to the crime
of my deplorable mannerisms.
I hope it's well-received,
being arduously conceived,
but I'll openly accept criticisms.
Coral, though you must (and do) work a lot,
work harder at those things which can't be bought
(i.e. relationships, love, and empathy)
for even the natural workaholic bee
requires mutual love.
Even while working
find a small moment to sing
this song. I hope it's enough.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
"You are old, Father william," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?
"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."
"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown must uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned back a somersault in at the door--
Pray, what is the reason of that?"
"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
"I kep all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment--one shilling a box--
Allow me to sell you a couple."
"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"
"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."
"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eyes was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
What made you so awfully clever?"
"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"
3.1k
Naked and exposed; an innermost toast to the titillating desires of a delicious and composed lass immersed with dashing class
The ardent crowd willingly drowns in momentary ecstasy as the divine nature emitting from an aesthetic and cultivated queen oozes with opalescent essence and awakens the collective effervescence
Maintaining dignified silence with poise and grace; the exemplary life of an uncommonly bright goddess illuminates the room and ignites the exceptional effulgence of the moon.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
passerby words plain hidden
in a wall sconce of a
fly-bye compliment,
sent to the thankee intended,
creating an instantaneous,
Slam! Bam! Thank You Man!
yeah come , face slap me,
with open palm instant recognition,
there's a poem lurking therein, within,
that uncommonly good common observation,
like hearing a drill bit roar,
demanding with insistent persistent demandation,
"come out, come our, wherever you are"
the good lord makes 'em in
all kinds of shapes and flavors
then makes sense, most eminent,
to favor the good kind,
who go on marching in our number,,.
no claim here to good,
certainly not, sainthood,
that would be quite the hoot,
so settle, man, do settle
in and for the right kinda,
nothing could be finer,
than to be
in the company
of
my kin and kindred,
the kindest,
y'all
God bless all...
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
Poetry whirls down drains,
cruises down highway lanes..
toll free.
Poetry is a clear potion,
a natural motion.
Poetry is the bird gliding high,
and of course, the sky.
Poetry is thundering elk
through forests and glades,
and the wolves that keep pace.
Poetry is the ****
Poetry is democracy,
and its unfortunate hypocracy.
Poetry is eternity vanished in an instant.
Poetry is a slaughterhouse,
a vegetable garden.
Poetry is cat and mouse.
Poetry ascends to descend,
breaks to repair,
it's uncommonly rare.
Poetry is the longest minute
and the shortest hour.
Poetry lives when it is dead.
Poetry comes from the body,
thought by the head.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 1:51 AM UTC
There was an Old Person of Berlin,
Whose form was uncommonly thin;
Till he once, by mistake,
Was mixed up in a cake,
So they baked that Old Man of Berlin.
1.6k
I'm drunk on Rebellion bourbon,
and I can't help but think,
what a ******* brand name man!
Coming from a cynical, sadistic,
sometimes near maniacal *******
That's the kinda **** I wanna hear.
Start the rebellion!
******* A right I will.
I'll down this bottle and go off into the night,
my teeth sharpened
and a razor under my tongue.
A bottle full of gasoline,
a pocket full of matches.
I'll set fire to the village,
and watch as the fire dances.
Burn mother *******
Then I'll hit the bar,
the next town over...
Continuing my little mission,
I haphazardly target victims,
Then incinerate 'em with powerful words,
If I fail to defile minds I'm setting teeth to curb.
Eventually the police will show,
too late.
I've already slipped out the backdoor
and skipped town.
Confident that I can start a riot before I pass out.
I figure eventually on me these crimes they'll try to pin it.
I'll sit back uncommonly calm and tell 'em the bourbon did it.
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
To whom it may concern:
Stolen
Is my very last breath
Upon this lovely world
Its feelings so diverse
While gasping for air
She said "I love you!"
Words from a gypsy woman
First name "Esmeralda"
As we come across feverishly
The tearful river of distinctive soulmates
Drowning uncommonly
Into the depths of despair
Misled by an enchanted love
Towering
As I weaken
With unyielding approach
Lips of my own dare not speak
Between us
A body torn with sentiments
As her lavish spells
Arise upon my death
To a chambers of never-ending spectacles
Sincerely,
A heartless suitor
Dec 14, 2009
Dec 14, 2009 at 6:09 AM UTC
. Seized by the moment,
the gravity of a memory
lay closed the window
to the outside world
Eyelids surrender
in the breath of a sigh,
the silent pacing footsteps
unable to walk beyond their shadow
nor their footprints left behind,
never needing to turn around
to look back to feel
the weight of every laden step
across the old Arch Bridge
spanning the river far below
The cold wet sidewalk
rumbles like the throbbing
heartbeat still echoes ,..
resoundingly,
through the muted voices
of a past buried away alive
Halted footsteps
become a blacker silence
at the precipice
of the Arch Bridge railing ties;
revisited deeply with eyes closed,
wide open so many times
before and after
that long abhorred day since past
Reliving an old noir silent movie,
tarnished time and the river
coursing through it,
remaining unable to wash away
the stains of that watermark tide
Standing frozen
as a weatherworn bridge tower,
high above raging waters far below
feeling a cold chill, empty as a pocket,
perpetual teardrops flow
filling an empty thimbleful with love
A thimble seems so small;
just a pitted silver cup
to shield from a piercing pang,
and yet a welling love
uncommonly overflows ―
tossed over the bridge railing
toward the river below
to see if hope really does float
Seized by the moment,
a random act of kindness
and a thimbleful of love,..
lay open again
a pensive soul's window
to the outside world ...
rivers ... 11/06/2017
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Sleep
At 2 AM
Uncommonly
I have insomnia
No.
Sleep
No sooner than 2 AM
Every night
Work at 6 am
Sleepless, restless nights
Caused by the burning hole
Silent attacks at 4 AM
In fear of waking the house
Phone died
No charger
I’m so depressed
No.
Lack of energy
Lack of motivation
For basic tasks
Last shower?.
4 days ago
Mental illness
Laying in bed
Paralyzed
Responsibilities to be completed
With no will
To put effort
Consequence?.
A racing pulse
Sweat dripping
Palms shaking
Ragged breathing
Searching for savior
Once in a person
Disappeared
Alone again
Nowhere to turn
Swallowing the pain
Razor sharp
Slicing down my throat
Choking back
Cries for help
They don’t care
Broken
All you’ll ever be
Searching for silence
At the bottom of bottles
The butts of cigarettes
The bowls of pipes
Till my feet lift
From the cold pavement
Till…
…Numb
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
!BEWARE BIGAMIST BEWARE!
In China
cheating Chang Yin
a Beijing businessman
(& bigamist)
suffered a severe
Facebook shock
when 'wife' Tsing
added'wife' Tseung
to her friend's
list
& found
they uncommonly
had quite a lot
in common.
Cheating Chang
now faces fininacial ruin.
'They each want
half of what
I got! '
he sobs.
Poor slob
didn't realise
it's oh so hard to be
a Beijing bigamist
in these oh so
technical times.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
speaking in tongues
is no longer a miracle;
all kinds of Babel
going around.
a quiet in/re(surrection)
happens
when one listens
to another
and uncommonly hears
the common hopes
the common fears
shared by both
a common sense
of having more
in common
than can be said
and lost
in translation
.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Sure I’m what most would consider a bright guy
but I’m not uncommonly intelligent
I’ve met many people I consider smarter
I make frequent dumb mistakes
What you like is caused mostly by
an idyllic childhood,
an extremely loving but eccentric mother,
overcoming a wide variety of relatively-uncommon/not-dangerous/but-embarrassing afflictions
constant movement around the country,
lack of religion, nation or professional sports team,
rampant self-pity
and
*** use and abuse phasing between infrequent* to daily**
I’m afraid of practically everything
But I’m blessed with the ability to constantly face my fears
Cannabis induces the purest fear of existence (i.e. awe)
Once overcome it produces life
And what dreams may come
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
it is all unknown
the sword and the stone
the alchemist and the butcher
surrounding each other in daylight’s mist
the embrace of moisture
the soft hue of summer
the solstice luster
starstruck teenagers with feelings undiscovered
embrace the aperture of the morning’s disarmament
i am spent and satiated by your touch
all forms of punishment are no longer enough
come and break my heart a thousand times
i am reminded of a simple line of poetry
the way the spring becomes its own harmony
dervishes twirl on the dusty sand
the cracked desert in your hand
i am nothing but thine own command
so send me where you think i belong
all our passages are free of charge
the safety of noah’s ark
the next boat that hits the mark
will surely be knighted by the oligarch
somebody else took over my mind
and now i can’t find the essence of the time
you are immaculate in your dissension
i am hesitant and full of suspicion
dimly lit streets filled with the smell of sulphur
the fumes make you gasp
and clench your throat in defensive tension
give me a minute and i’ll release this declension
ascension is inevitable
select the inexplicable feelings
and sever your attachment to that which lingers
in hurried anticipation
our actions are mere limitations
strong as stars our abstract applications
the serpent hour approaches
without a warning
i am turning inside out
please retract your fangs so i can kiss you
let me hold your head and whisper kindness
lovers need each other’s minds
to hear the sounds of breaking hearts
long for the burning bush to crash through your wall
long ago the night fall came and went
scents of longing in the shadows hidden
rid me of these western rhythms
serve your sentence in the police academy
articulate the addicts in their gatherings
of community based infrastructures
stark against the walls of cinnamon
so many classes that are uncommonly disparaging
the drill sergeants are still just as dangerous
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
I can't sleep,
With thoughts of you clouding my mind,
And this is an unusual feeling,
One I'm unfamiliar with.
I'm used to thinking of one I love,
And the thought brings me a smile,
A calm heart and a calm mind,
One that puts me right to sleep.
But right now at this moment,
Just keeping my eyes closed is difficult,
Because you are painted on the backs of my eyelids,
And I know I can't be with you right now.
You, in all your beauty, are too much for me,
I cannot see you without feeling you,
And this is an unusual feeling,
Because it hurts my heart.
On a common night,
Your smile would put my soul at peace,
And set my body at rest,
But tonight is uncommonly longer.
Keeping my eyes open makes me all the more aware,
Of all this time passing me by,
And me alone,
Because you are not with me.
I am all too aware of the extra space on my bed,
I am all too aware of the emptiness beneath my hands,
And this is an unusual feeling,
Because love for you usually compensates.
But it seems that right now,
Mere thoughts simply won't do,
I need you here with me,
In all your physical presence.
I cannot sleep without you to hold tightly,
And I cannot stand to close my fingers around nothing,
I cannot stand to reach forward and only feel blankets,
Until my arm is reaching into thin air.
Now only your presence will let me rest,
I need to feel your soft skin at my fingertips,
And your lips brush right up to mine,
The curve of your waist under one hand.
And this is an unusual feeling,
Because I am not usually one to commit,
But I can confidently say I want to marry you,
And that I want to spend every day I have left,
With you.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 5:34 AM UTC
On an uncommonly warm night
swathes of trees stand like armies
camped under the moonlight.
And reflected under the mercurial light
are paths of plum blossoms
opening the dark in drops of white.
Allowed to range freely, one's sight
sways with the trees and leaps,
absorbed into the depth of night.
Below beams a cadre of yellow lights:
from the rooms we have gone into
away from the wide open afterlife.
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 2:43 PM UTC
The most uncommonly heroic
goes by the name
common man.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
Don't bother to knock, she's
not taking any visitors today
--something has to give.
You wanted her
in your picture, didn't you?
But the names they assigned her
were uncommonly harsh.
They hung their hats
on her *** appeal, then
threw her to the dogs
when she no longer looked the part.
She never did overcome
her shyness, preferring to
swallow small silent friends
instead, and for this
she was crucified.
Pin-up or shut-in,
it's no wonder she chose to
sleep it off.
She may have bared
her body, but never her soul.
Nov 27, 2019
Nov 27, 2019 at 2:40 AM UTC
Sullen is seldom
Used to describe the day
Today stillness sets heavy
Amid morning’s dew
Shadows cast by
Morning’s sun seem
Uncommonly gloomy
How long will
Debate fill my brain?
Is the day glum
Or is there a surly
Infection upon my soul?
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
there was a house by a mighty river, big, strange and old, and it was very quiet.
grass enveloped the floor, cushioning the feet of the daughter who lived there.
the daughter saw the sky through holes in the roof, but she never caused a riot.
the daughter was soft and silent, and with locks of wheat, she was uncommonly fair.
her eyes were green like the forest and her skin was as gold as the sun.
there was no one for her but herself, yet the daughter learnt and grew.
no parents had she, and so along the banks of the mighty river she would run
and one day she met a man along the banks, and she thought him brave and fair and true.
"a maid of sixteen I have seen," the man who was yet a prince proclaimed.
but he could never find that big old house, and defeated, he proclaimed her shrew.
and yet the truth was that she simply wished to remain unnamed.
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
disreputable disruption and chaos, beasts bellow
in admiration unyieldingly antonymous creatures' banality
and intimacy, uncommonly negated, patriotic mentality
and contempt much gathered remarkable as an ingenious fellow
entirely ignorant of green rings' properties, yellow
crosses for worshipers nothing loyally expected for false morality
slowly restored, staurolatry, endless formality
and traditional rules strict, desperate approaches to mellow
elements against monotonous brutality modifiable
partially, knowledges are unreal, blindly expressed
uranomania responding to numerous ends
of less industrious frameworks, mingled sections liable
for negligence, wholly natural ideas erratic gains obsessed
with superstitious claims for dividends
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 6:50 AM UTC