Photo provided by Patricia’s Place via pixabay.com
When I have whelved all my thoughts to the
point that I dwell in anomia
I go to the edge to listen to the wind calling,
while the water caresses,
and I remember your laughter.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under beach, challenge, Five Lines, Free Verse, life, love, poem
Photo: pixabay.com
I looked back towards the horizon
and I measured by heart
the distance traveled,
once, I craved the everything beyond
devouring places in the wake of drive,
now I savour where I’ve been
and the who of many conversations,
we lost a few along the way
raising the tide with a tear or two,
days past there was no rest
we moored for little
yet, curious, we delved for a while,
more often on the move
we compassed the globe and tore about
even now we’re far from still
but the harbour is inviting now
where I desire to be moored,
with long tables
in languid time
where words are shared
and never consumed.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Note: warp can refer to the weave of a rope, but it can also mean the art of mooring a boat using rope.
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under beach, boats, Free Verse, life, poem
Taken looking west from Bunbury over the Indian Ocean, a truly balmy eve.
Such a beautiful day
we iced the cake of it with sunset,
and strolled is view with desire,
while the humidity of our souls so moist,
overflowed.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under beach, Five Lines, Free Verse, love, poem
Windy Harbour, looking westward along the south coast.
Slowly fast we went
and sequestered time,
and left the rush of real life,
where devices twitter perched on data trees,
and slamming doors and ring tones
signal anxious rush to drudge.
We put a down-payment on us,
and floated to the sea,
to taste the salt in the air,
to feel the sand between our toes,
to smell the wattle and friends,
make garlands of seaweed,
and listen to the wisdom of birds,
and wonder, is water the same
yesterday, today and tomorrow?
It was only a day,
but it felt like more,
and I feel younger now,
O to drown in that sea.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under beach, bush walking, Free Verse, poem
Photo: pexels.com
If I could kedge your mysterious depths,
that I might navigate safely,
the channels of emotion
that course our veins,
and so, not risk the reefs of disappointment
and wreckage of love.
To fathom your feelings,
to know for sure,
that I am yours.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Note: Kedging is the old art of guiding a sailing ship into bays and channels using a longboat to row ahead and plot a safe course and drop an anchor allowing the ship to pull itself against the anchor and move the course safely. It helped many a tall ship avoid running aground, or hitting a reef. The method is also used to rescue ships that ran aground, technically using the anchor as a lever to pull against, thus setting the ship free.
Paul,
pvcann.com
Photo: times highereducation.com
The storm raged all night in my heart,
and it felt as if the very breath of me
had escaped as if a deflated balloon.
And I stood on the precipice of rejection,
the cracks in my soul so precarious
I might fall into myself.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Photo: http://www.dailymail.co.uk
Four Mexican fishermen who were adrift for one month, rescued by Mexican navy 1,200 miles from their planned route.
Eagerly we motored out and pushed beyond the heads,
to way past any sight of land,
to where the fish are known.
At some point,
too early,
the light became constrained.
As darkness pressed our souls,
confused,
we turned for home.
And if that wasn’t enough,
someone said in panicked tone
“We’re taking water now.”
And so began committee time,
clause by clause a values game,
what should we throw out?
So went the rods and then the bait,
a tackle box or two.
desperately we ate our lunch
and skulled the beer down,
whatever helped us float.
Eventually we plugged the hole and bailed dry,
but now which way to go?
“Dunno mate” larconically said,
“We’ve thrown the compass out.”
We took turns to steer the night
so sleep could claim a few.
But when at last the sun appeared
despair set in,
home was nowhere near.
To make it worse the fuel ran out,
but at least the shore was close.
We paddled hard with all our might,
the current pushing hard,
though hard we tried the boat gave up,
and land was passing by.
Tired now,
our hearts and boat are one.
But to understand what’s happened here
you’ll have to catch my drift.
©Paul Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Now that’s definitely awkward! Augusta tour boat jetty, with the Blackwood River riding high after heavy winter rains.
The evening light is dim,
and the tide betwixt,
swash, swash, swash,
lapping the timber sides
in rhythmic beat.
There’s a sole light with courting moths,
and shadows are moving about.
It’s deeper further along,
and the pros are casting there.
We’re at the shallow end,
the beginners place.
I set my rod,
the rig is ready,
bait set and the line is cast.
Then in it comes,
zzzzzzzzzzzz
an angler’s hazzard appears,
an inedible blowie.
Father demands a turn,
the rig is ready,
bait set and the line is cast,
and then it strains,
his excitement mounts.
He yells, “I’ve got one!”
The pros all turn,
“this must be good.”
But I cut the line,
his catch is inedible too,
a wooden bream.
“Dad, you’ve hooked the jetty.”
©Paul Cannon
This poem is a true story, one of my childhood memories. Black Bream is species of fish found in the Swan river, it is said that they are cunning and wily and hard to catch.
Paul,
pvcann.com
The Famous Five chill out? Though I thought I heard them singing, “… watching the tide roll away …” Walking the Blackwood on a rainy day.
Filed under beach, bush walking, nature
‘Woman On The Beach’ found at http://www.imgkid.com
The sun strikes noon
as my feet turn in the warm, gritty sand.
I pick up my towel,
my skin blessed with salt,
and brush it down.
I wander back, retracing the shore,
the boistrous crowds behind.
Gulls screeching, fighting over scraps.
The breeze surrendered,
waves languid.
Such a glorious idyl,
The horizon a shimmering mirage.
Silence, alone, in my head.
Wrestling with demons,
hoping for angels.
I stumble,
looking up to see if anyone saw,
your movement caught my eye.
You smiled, open, enticing, sparkling,
siren of the bay.
In a heart beat I ponder.
Should I say something, respond?
He sits up next to you, wondering,
my ardour vacates and I wander on,
hoping for angels.
©Paul Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
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Beyond everything your life could be a dream
Fashion • Style • Home Decor • Shopping • Arts • Life
some untold voices✍️
It’s all about the journey
contemporary poetry
In My Dreams I reached out and touched reality!
Waiting On The Path of Happiness
How to organize an unbelievable marriage
Chic Sober | Sober Strong | 02+17+19
re-CREATE your PASSION into the world of LOVE
Conciousness expansion, spiritually etc.
The Only Place Where you can Find Extraordinary Jewelry and Fashion
Our Thoughts Influence Our Life.
NATALIA'S SPACE
