Richard Lawrence Harrington

Richard L Harrington

Poet

Poetry

Olive Tree of Vouves

2020-12-24

We all,
inexorably bound,
cannot remain forever as we are,
lest we wilt in harvest.

Atonement in Equity

2020-7-10

The wielder of greatest power,
in any given relationship,
is always most self-starved for forgiveness;
for, by power's very nature,
a grip on its greater portion
controls both its disparity
and the path to atonement in equity.

You Don't Choose the Message of Your Actions

2020-6-13

When the form you wear
embodies not the shape of your heart
but rather a pattern of harm,

then strip it from you
- let it burn away;

but,

should you hold that emblem close,
you'll find you bear it
in just and inevitable shame.

Threshold to Intimacy

2020-1-14

When you speak my name,
do you breathe who I am?
How long I have ached,
down my road of years;
Can your lips move the same,
as delight in my hands?
when my heart doth quake,
who regards my fears?

Transcendent Song

2019-9-25

Sing to me through broken teeth,
with limbs as shattered as younger hearts.
Sing in littered, filthy back alleys
or from a face unknown to me.

Sing to me your beauties been,
through every torture you've endured.
Sing me out across your sea;
your song is most what raptures me.

Sing to me in perfect notes,
or soundless warnings of all your fears.
sing of intentions more thought than decree,
and still you'll find a listening me.

Understanding Autumn

2019-9-21

Ol' Midday Sun,
my own reliable glow,
strains more each morrow
to rise from bed
- lone, beyond the horizon.

In shifting time,
we gleam upon common ground;
a first-dawn fervor
for great unknowns
- joined, gleaning fickle longings.

Our radiant beams,
assumed naturally fixed,
discovered nurtured
to wax and wane
- free, plastic since genesis.

Oh Midnight Moon,
your faint, ethereal shimmer,
transfix your passion
not chore-of-night
- craved, amidst eager study.

Intimate Recital

2019-7-26

You, Silence,
who draws my affection
in;

in your moments of hush,
I am my own,
clattering composer.

When you speak into another's darkness,
it's best your lungs be drowned in light,
and that both respire where the air is clear.

Scribbling,
note by note,
I devise each chord;

it is mine,
and my being,
this modern opus.

If freedom is authorship of tones,
and connection is an intimate recital,
then Love, we are our only refrain.

You, Sweet Voice,
now clear in certain reprise
here;

by my every lone thought,
this hymn is me,
played like it's yours.

Attachment

2019-5-6

Winter hath made me forget you;
those who would'st not weather the storm,
nor act upon,
nor chase,
the hope for warmth.

In Spring, though,
I keep welcome to your face again;
as am I when ye follow not my feet,
thou art invited in all my seasons.

For the sun of summer,
we are united in joy;
yearning neither for what was,
nor lost in what will be.

And in fall,
when my path veers treacherous again;
I may always be found,
ready for embrace,
though ye may find me unreachable.

Solid Ground for Solid Feet

2019-4-16

I am a stone for you,
a mountain of will,
and as I, from new vistas,
revisit the geology of my past,
I am known better in my canyons
from my peaks.

Woven

2019-4-8

I find strands of your hair
woven though my shirts,
my hat,
my heart.

Like paraphernalia
of the spaces through
and between my own being,
where I still remain vulnerable to love.

And with each wash
I find these garments cleansed,
yet agreeably fettered, still more
with you.

And I know,
should we become apart,
my wounded hands would endure,
powerless to unstitch your fibers from me.

I would stretch my fabrics
to find new spaces,
and fearfully rethread the old
- tattered and doubtful as they may be.

Still a shirt,
a hat,
a heart without you,
but happier with your inlaid embrace.

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Contact me at: rlh@artleaping.com

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