It’s fall and i miss you

The leaves change colors
to start the season.
I walk an empty hull your
heart the reason.

The harvest moon fills,
passionate and true.
Soon the air chills;
It’s fall, and I miss you.

When you’re away I might
compare to autumn trees,
because I miss you like
the branches miss the leaves.

The summer sun has fled.
With it, you’ve gone too.
ahead, there’s only dread.
It’s fall, and I miss you.

Brave

Be brave today.
You’re stronger than you think.
How many times has the brink
of your will be tested?
Yet here you are, alive and well.
The tree that never fell
no matter how the wind howled,
you faced the storm and toweled
off. What’s a little water to your
ocean of magnificence?
Rainstorms and rain showers
give life. Not all seeds
grow into flowers.
The heavens blessed
you with birth,
to question your worth
is to ask why the sky is,
Or why the sun sets and rises—
you just are. You belong.
You are fierce. Be strong.
Be brave.

Silent adoration

When I’m staring at you,
without making a sound.
I’m lost inside your eyes,
not wanting to be found.

When I’m smiling at you,
without saying a word.
I’m hiding here with you,
not wanting to be heard.

When I’m lying with you,
without making a peep.
I’m counting memories,
instead of counting sheep.

When I kiss you gently,
on lips or on your cheek;
I’m saying “I Love You,”
and I didn’t need to speak.

Better Than You

You said to me, “I’m better than you.”
I disagreed and I puffed my chest
but inside I knew, it’s true.

That’s all it took to gain my admiration.
You didn’t have to prove it – I was yours.
My thoughts, poisoned by your put downs, 
were obsessed
with climbing
your ladder
of approval.

What can I do to be your equal?
Maybe if I got a higher score,
Or made friends with yours,
and if they looked up to me
with praise akin
to how they praised you,
you’d raise your chin
and see me eye to eye.
But you don’t
and I don’t
know why.

I’m better at sports,
better at school,
have more friends,
broke more rules,
made more money,
traveled more too.
You know what?
I’m better than you!

But how can I convince you,
like you did me, when my words
don’t phase you at all?
We don’t speak unless I call.
I bet you don’t notice
when the phone doesn’t ring.
I sit and stare, getting madder
by the minute;
You should be begging for my time!

I laugh at your failures.
I say you deserve it.
I try hard to be perfect;
waiting for you
to tell me I’m worth it,
because in your presence
I don’t feel like a person!

A seed planted in my youth,
bloomed to become my truth.
Thoughts into reality,
I’ve doubted me
my entire life.

Years fighting your voice,
only to find;
it was never yours – It was mine.

The Cure For Life

Life is an illness for which there’s no cure.
Fright into stillness, a knock at the door.
Imploring words spoken, I chose to ignore.
The door flew wide open, I fell to the floor.

“Oh my word my dear child!” This voice was uncaring,
“What has happened to you that is so overbearing?
”She grinned and leaned in, said, “Tell me your strife.”
“I’m suffering from this forsaken life!”

“Suffering?” she asked, “Then we mustn’t waste time.”
I felt her intentions becoming malign.
A cloaked formed around her. A blade flicked a shine.
My words did confound her, “I was faking, I’m fine!”

I was shaking as I continued to cry.
“I was wrong for thinking the cure was to die!”
She replied, “Too bad you realized this too late.
You’ve made your decision, now suffer the fate!”

Life is an illness.
Appreciation – the cure.
Don’t take it for granted or
the knock may be at Your door.

The Mountain

The wind howled.
A point to prove.
The Mountain would not move.

The thunder roared.
The lightning struck
the Mountain with no luck!

The rain stormed
and threw a fit.
The Mountain would not submit.

When the earth
began to quake.
The Mountain would not break.

They all attacked,
inch by inch.
The Mountain would not flinch.

When pressure comes
from all around.
Be the Mountain. Stand your ground.

-Robert J. Harrigan

The Battle Within

Holding on to anger,
one can not deny,
is like drinking poison,
expecting foes to die.

A walking contradiction,
how I’ve always been.
Achieve invisibility,
grieve when I’m not seen.

Behind these bars of silence.
Imprisoned inside Hell.
The door’s unlocked, however,
afraid to leave my cell.

The battle against evil,
the conquering of sin,
is not against each other,
it’s happening within.

The Poet’s Snafu

The pursuit of happiness.

That’s what we’re promised in this country.

But what about the Poet?

Happiness is a muse we can never possess. It’s a faraway place we imagine one day walking the sandy beaches of.

It’s a dream.

The longer we’re awake, the less real it becomes.

A happy Poet is a Poet no more.

That doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy life. It doesn’t mean we don’t smile.

We laugh, we love, we live.

But we must remain at the crossroads of all emotional paths, watching passerby’s stroll past.

It’s how we experience it all, to deliver it all to you.

We’re relayers of truth, and truth is worth more than happiness.