
“When the well is dry, they know the worth of water.” Benjamin Franklin
Eyes To The Sky These veins run dry, eyes to the sky, expectant, lips parched, ever waiting for heaven's tongue to moisten this dusty skin, and slake the throat of life that clings to the edge of hope, not knowing how tenuous this unbalanced life is, hanging on, as if this is the only way to be, eyes to the sky, expectant. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Excellent!👍👍
LikeLiked by 3 people
Many thanks 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
As I read your verses, and look at the picture, I seem to hear the earth calling for rain …🏜️
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes, I resonate with your sense of it, well said.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hope is the Goddess!
LikeLiked by 3 people
It surely is!
LikeLike
All of us.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, I sense that, you got it, thanks you so much Ana.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, I knew you had it in mind when you wrote the piece — didn’t mean to say not, just adding my little note of agreement.
When it comes to metaphoric expression I hold you past master, believe me, and am frequently agog with admiration over it — you hardly write a piece without some larger statement elegantly woven in — unnamed little parables!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is wonderful to be acknowledged as such, I do work at it with that very intention, and so glad it is appreciated, many thanks Ana.
LikeLiked by 1 person
👍
LikeLiked by 1 person
So much color in this photo, unexpected.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, in such harsh places colour is unexpected, resonated very much, thank you Cheryl.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very effective use of metaphor!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much Liz.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Paul.
LikeLiked by 1 person
great expressions Paul💖💖
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for that Cindy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
you’re so welcome Paul💖
LikeLiked by 1 person
Parched land, earth turned to dust… hard to re-imagine the summer droughts when winter here is far from done with us, and another storm starts to roll in.
Beautifully expressed, Paul – I can see the stricken farmer gazing skywards.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, the hope beyond hope gamble of farming. We’ve had a couple of days break as spring teases its advent, but back to rain again.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We had hail a couple of hours ago!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nature hurling everything!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heartfelt. Majority of farmers in India rely on monsoon water and I see such faces while reading your poem Paul.
LikeLiked by 2 people
What a hard life, I understand the life a little having been a farmer for a time, but I also know that monsoons are unpredictable and therefore likely to disappoint.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Exactly and it’s even harder when the national policies are not supportive.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I’ve been reading a little of their story, appalling lack of support.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully expressed need to always be hopeful.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, without hope all is lost, hope is a key to the immediate future as I see it.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for that Chuck.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always a pleasure to read and share your posts with followers, Paul!! Have a great day!
😊👍✨✨🎉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Eyes To The Sky – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon – Nelsapy
Thank you 🙂
LikeLike
Beautiful
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you 🙂
LikeLike