Richard Lawrence Harrington

Richard L Harrington



Best Friends


Lone birds sigh like wind,
Yet their loves shall always sing.
Their souls always hear.

Like Once


Dream with me, oh raindrop one;
the tides of life have just begun.
'Tis here where time shall bathe with thee,
and swim in nightlight seas with me.

I shan't ask for changing eyes,
but for fair holds and precious sighs.
My ways hold firm as Gibraltar;
as my life, ye I'd not alter.

Dream with me, oh raindrop Love;
let kingdoms, castles, homes be one.
O'er all this land I'd fare with thee,
For where you are, that's home indeed.



The dusts of an ocean world,
a grasp like time and life.
Sway the silts as a memory;
so long ago it formed.
Here try the children;
the dead who learn to swim.

Sit like glass and stone,
alive with light and air.
Awake sweet mind of thoughts;
awake, and be this dream.
To smile in choice and precept;
for this day we both shall live.

Musing Dancers


Stand in time,
Lie in light.
There you are,
Projecting a memory.
Where you look,
the sun.
And there you live,
words on tongue and paper.
Set your brilliant sun away,
it never matters 'til the jealous blade strikes
— when you bleed your tears.

Dying Legends


Stand in wait.
Lie in light.
Here am I,
remembered in shadow.
All around
— the sun.
But here I wait,
sword in hand and sheath.
Spill this darkness over me,
it never matters 'til the jealous blade strikes
— when you bleed your tears.

Garden of Wordless Dream - (Sonnet 3)


In this ancient garden are tales of life,
of love, hate, and all found within shared souls.
Here sits today and all tomorrows' strife,
seeking a perfect word for friendship's fold.

This garden's pair harvests the sparkling dew,
like private gods in a heart's stardrop rain.
Each feeds a dreamseed of creation's clues,
showing bedfellows that one word again.

In time, mem'ry-filled plants did grow and bloom,
and poetic minds praised them, unworried.
Not a fine word, but poet's dreams were mused,
for star-crossed friends found all words unworthy.

In this zion are tales of our seasons,
and perfect nameless words beyond reasons.

For Eli:


'Twas in the late and hasty September,
When we oft regret and less remember.
There a was boy with specs, fro, and racket,
So sought he the bouncing ball to whack it.

And as this golden clown did play quite swell,
We found it was the hair that did him well.
For it was quite bright in this ping pong game,
but the glare was blocked by his curly mane.

Converse or Fall


One for Sleep well
Two for The lip smack
Three for I love you
A baker's dozen
for the accusation of lies
One for Routine
Two for Thoughtlessness
Three for I love you
A baker's dozen
for satin severed in shortness
Thirty-two wounds
from this bed of nails

Sea Beams


Sea beams,
from sunlit waters
beyond many eyes' reaches.
Scarce these,
like molten glass
insight into soul's meanings.
Mind breeze,
for distant laughs
after breathing-souls' lifetimes.
Thought shells,
unknown within eyes' gazes.
Light wells,
like prophet-lies
upon sibyl's tale's accuracy.
for restless thoughts
amidst theory-proof's fiction.



These hands boil the water
and she drinks the herbs and sugar.
A twitch in her face and...
scar in her voice.
She used to be better at sipping.
Now she can't hold the cup.
It's not that I've a mug,
it's that I always swallow first.
The tea is good,
but I wish...
that it could tickle her first sometimes.
Though, she'd probably stop brewing it,
rather than taking my brew more freely.

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