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.

Reliable earth

In this world, I’ve been
three decades out of ten
Every now and then
I stop and wonder when
will the earth stop spinning?
Before the final inning?
We assume it keeps giving
like it has since the beginning.
But they say not to assume,
yet every day we just resume
expecting seeds to bloom
and sunshine every June.
But what if it were days
without the sun’s abundant rays?
Are there different ways
to receive its gift and praise?
It’s hard to understand it —
this planet where we’re planted.
However, we don’t have to,
just don’t take it for granted.

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.

Love Letter – Spending Time

Dear Ashely,

You could search the outer edges of the galaxy and you wouldn’t find anything more valuable than time. Buying a gift is easy. Giving money – easier. But understanding time is limited means spending it is the pinnacle of human currency. To say, “I’d like to spend some of my time with you,” is deeper than “I love you.”

You could be anywhere with anyone but here you are with me. In the continuum of space and time, right here and now we’re present with each other.

You could be smiling at someone else but you’re smiling at me. Your tears could be wiped by another’s hand. Every minute of your time is a minute of your life, and I’m grateful for the time we spend together.

                    Punctually yours,

-Rob

America

I was born into a land I don’t deserve.
Joined its military ranks but didn’t serve.
Did it all for me and acted like I wasn’t free,
but now I see a way of life we must preserve.

America’s the only place on earth
where your circumstances don’t define your worth.
If you don’t believe, then pack a bag a leave
and see how many countries give you berth.

There’s a reason why America’s the dream.
People leave families behind to join our team.
Equal opportunity for all, not just you and me,
a promise offered only by our regime.

Americans today are so confused.
Free to choose but say we are abused.
Those who hate, almost seem to benefit the most
from the same system which stands to be accused.

We’re not perfect, but if you focus on
every single flaw and every con,
and fight to make the west the same as all the rest,
you’ll miss what you had when it is gone.

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 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.