Richard Lawrence Harrington

Richard L Harrington



Together In Need


lonesome freckle
naked night sky

angel beheld
powerless to pride

generous hands
walled all around

Boreal cheeks

Olive Tree of Vouves


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

Atonement in Equity


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


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;


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

Threshold to Intimacy


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


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


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


You, Silence,
who draws my affection

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.

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

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



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


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.

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