“A carefree letting go of oneself, not a caution, but a wise blindness.” Rainer Maria Rilke
To Trace To trace the colours of feeling, the very flowers of poetry, through psychic fonts, those heralds of incomplete meaning interrupted only by exceptions, the dispossession of intention swallowed in the jouissance of hope lurking in the shadow edge of the sun's haunting and delicious space in that uncrowded halycon hour. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
Filed under bush walking, carefree, Country, Free Verse, poem, quote
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Write for Ilhan - Join the Global Campaign
Review books, TV series, movies
We only live once. Hence, let's not stop dreaming
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Empowering creatives and consumers
poetry and collage art by Constance Bourg
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.
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Ah, poetry, how we long for your uncrowded halcyon hour.
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If only, I find life a bit congested at present, other people seem so manic.
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Ah! the colours of feeling.
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Indeed.
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Yes! :-)) By the way “well beeing”. Germany is now “EU”. Does it mean its “good” too? LOl
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We are about to find out I guess, hope it goes well … 😉
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Hope too Paul!
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Uncrowded halcyon hour. I am pondering that for a while. Also pondering what has always been there in the shadows. Allegory?
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I’m tempted to ask, what do you want it to be? 🙂 but yes, allegory indeed, that we ignore the space we actually have, we hang back in the shadow, or park love in the shadow. Thank you for pondering this Tracy.
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I was reading too much into it. I like your version better. 🙏
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Well, as I always say, poetry is in the eye of the reader.
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😊
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