Stormy Seas ... a poem by Harlon Rivers

Stormy Seas ... a poem by Harlon Rivers

A storm is raging on the frothy sea

Mountainous waves toss the vessel to and fro

The ravaging Nor'easter impales with a deafening blow

Raucous salty sheets of spray soak and dampen all around

A bucket bails the raged sloop 

She moans and groans as she’s flung about

A sailor sails ; a sailor relentlessly bails

Alone in the perfect storm

Two oars are manned on the stormy seas

The halyard torn and ripped from mast

To row and bail is an impossible feat

It’s hard to tell when you’ve sprung a fateful leak

The captain mans the forlorn skiff

Traditions sink down with the ship

His furious soul laments life’s toil

As violent waves crash the gunnels hold

He screamed out loud, “My time has come!”

“My ship is sinking, her broken pieces will not be found!”

The rampart boat, well-fortified yet built to fail

Plummets from hills of water pitifully tall

Cracks are leaking where the lurid light gets in

But so does the salty water, will drowning soon begin?

Lost hope floats the helpless, fearless one man crew

His soul now guides his ship

A vessel drifts lifeless on the empty calming sea

Nothing but it can be seen for miles of skies

The free board is deep the briny water high

Two apathetic oars both silent, is a lost soul inside?

© November, 2011... Harlon Rivers 

   A three year full circle... revisited
         … melancholy déjà vu

the slow death of a poet

invisibly dying from the inside out
no one is looking into unseen eyes
no one can hear a muted voice fading
no one is close enough to be near

the deafening thrums echo
anxieties’ racing heartbeat ,
gasping for new breath
hovering in a stale misbegotten silence

from a distance
the broken mirror ricochets a subdued light ;
much closer the reflection reveals
someone I once knew by heart

now an unrecognizable mask
enshrouds a terminal emptiness
inconspicuous at a fleeting glance , 

impossible to  discern what storms rage 

from the inside out

the uncontained wildfire smoldering within
lies in wait for the winds of change
to fan the flames into the final ashes

a poet reaches out demurely

offering a candid glance

into the window of the human soul

there is no poetry

met by indifference

just gathered unread words scribbled,

squandered time drips slowly on the page
moments turn into days
days turned into years

invisibly dying from the inside out
an unfinished life trickles out like seeping blood
evanescing from a bottomless puncture wound 

penetrating the heart
leaching out the slow death of a poet

for Poetry is only words 
unless they touch someone ...
befallen to indifference 
is poetic death by salted paper cuts ...
a muting suffocation that wears away, 
silencing the passion of a musing soul ...

one unread word at a time 


© harlon rivers ...October 10, 2014