Category Archives: boats

The Real Adventure – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: chelmercanaltrust.co.uk

“Getting into and out of a coracle is the trickiest part ….” The Coracle Society

The Real Adventure

When the sea is grey and the skies dark,
the smallest of boats require courage,
not so much for the wind or waves,
nor letting go of that precious shore,
not even for the unknown horizon, no,
courage for our discoveries along the way,
our inner navigation by trial and error,
the loss of compass, disdain for the map,
without courage there is only ever a 
turning back.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

Note: Coracle or Currach was common to Wales, Ireland and Scotland and parts of England. Similar vessels are found in Iraq, India, North America .... The coracle as known in the UK and Ireland were generally made of willow or ash woven as a simple frame and covered with hide, modern versions include fibreglass.

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You Still Set Sail – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by Md Towhidul Islam from Pexels

“The sea drives truth into a man like salt.” Hilaire Belloc

You Still Set Sail

The ocean always looks so placid until 
you notice that the boat is small, then 
everything takes on its own dimension, 
a scale of worry never thought before, 
merely armchair dreamed in fading light,
of disasters unforetold, king waves, reefs,
storms and all of that, even so, you still
set sail and go.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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The Old Boat – a narrative poem – by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Ingrid is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write using the narrative voice.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Exploring the Narrative Voice

Photo: pxhere.com

“…. it is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.” Edgar Lee Masters

The Old Boat

I creak and groan like an arthritic bone,
my timbers are brittle and fey,
and I'm uncertain of my future
but they are taking me once again
across the adventure of waters
that thrill my boards and fill my sheets
with risk and the trample of my deck,
and I wait for the sea to wash me clean
of all that human debris,
now this might be my last as my time
is well past, but I'd rather sink than
be scuttled on clay.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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To Loose The Mooring – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Quadrille (44 words) inviting us to use the word or any of its forms – knot.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Knot





Photo: found at easywallprints.com

“…. the great difficulty is to say yes to life.” James Baldwin

To Loose The Mooring

I just wanted to see what would happen,
to untie the knot and slip the hawser,
just to loose the mooring and see 
where the tide would take us,
to cast off from these predictable days,
life, sometimes it's in the letting go.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Across The Waves – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Sarah at dVerse is hosting Poets Pub tonight, and Sarah has invited us to “what3words” the idea is to locate yourself on a web map via what3words and three words are given, of which a poem from three to twelve lines will be constructed. dVerse Poets – Poets Pub – Three Little words

Photo: margaretrivermail.com The Augusta Yacht club out on the Blackwood River.

From what3words I received for my map reference – Indulged, Tended, Yachts.

“The fishermen Know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.” Vincent Van Gogh

Across The Waves

Moon shimmered on the Blackwood,
increasing the mood of night at the edges
of my senses, all of the yachts were tethered,
but I indulged to my heart and set sail
in feltness across the waves of feeling,
slipping through the gaps between 
black and slivers of silvered visions,
in rippled moments while moon 
tended my every direction.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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In The Wake – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Come Sail

Sarah at dVerse has invited us to write a poem about boats of any type.

Photo: yours truly out on the Blackwood River

“The way of a canoe is the way of the wilderness, freedom almost forgotten.” Sigurd F. Olson

In The Wake

The dolphins are laughing
while the grebe casts a wary eye
as I cut a swathe through Neptunes land,
gently gouging the surface
my shoulders sway as the double-ended
paddle crosses over, slicing the 
grey-green expanse, forcing it
against itself as a passage of time
in the wake of all that is.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Our Very Words – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Lofty – RDP Tuesday

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Photo: peoplesriverhistory.us. Artist Wes Modes sailed this recreated 1940s shanty boat down the Tennessee River in 2016 as part of the project – ‘A Secret History Of American River People’

 

Beware the echo-chamber!

 

Our Very Words

We named her SS Egalitarian,
fuelled her with libertarian spirit
and collectively manoeuvred along the river
wisely steering round the rocks of despair,
avoiding log-jams upstream,
keeping to ourselves, naturally
no boarders here
our company pure,
ideologically speaking of course,
untainted, ideal,
and though we steered so well
navigating this river of life,
the skin of her hull
our very words in fact,
ran out, and the
democracy of the river poured in.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Pulling Together – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Sick – RDP Saturday

ship-701598_1280.jpg

Photo: pixabay.com

Pulling Together

The sails heaved and strained in
a great wind for sailing,
the masts bending
as the ship rolled and pitched,
block and tackle groaning,
yards creaking under pressure,
salty spittle feathering our faces
flavouring our way,
while derisive gulls
taunted our progress,
some of the crew took to the sides
disgorging their innards,
well, some days are like that
on HMS Life,
even when all is plain sailing
there are still things that can
really make you sick,
what helped us make it through
was all pulling together.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Taking Time – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Warp – RDP Sundayitaly-981191_1280.jpg

Photo: pixabay.com

 

Taking Time

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

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You Lie – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

What Do You See?

weekly-challenge.jpg

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You Lie

You want me
to lie down with you
in that watery grave.
but you lie to me of
such voluptuary,
with naked invitation
and I am so tempted
save for the deafness of steel,
this wall between your song
and my uncertainty.
For now
I’m content to savour your gifts
and I shall dream of you more,
tonight.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,  pvcann.com

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