Category Archives: dreams

And What Now? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“You and I are all as much continuous with the physical universe as a wave is continuous with the ocean.” Alan Watts

And What Now?

Time,
what a beautiful intersection,
crossroad of divine encounter -
what happens now?
An irrational search for the
superstition of reason or
immersion in breathing,
pathway to dreamworlds,
opportunities of discovery
extending forward into the 
world by vulnerability,
and what now,
do I fall in love?


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Joining The Flow – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Be the flow.” Jay-Z

Joining The Flow

The long ache that desires to flow
into the sea of subconscious tides,
a weightless journey being
carried on the back of sighs,
breathless, with expectation
in a long storied epic of
being born a fish on land
who discovers the dream,
written long ago, where
thoughts give way to feeling,
and all fish are one.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Moving On – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Surprise is the greatest gift which life can grant us.” Boris Pasternak

Moving On

I was feeling for the edge
as the morning warmed,
dancing to the gentle sound
we no longer know,
the thing we should hold on to,
broken into lines,
which is never considered,
the shadow of freedom,
interrupting the illusion
to reveal something.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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What Would That World Look Like – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image by John Hain from Pixabay

“The greatness of a community is most accurately measured by the compassionate actions of its members.” Coretta Scott King

What Would That World Look Like?

I wonder, often
what a softer world would be like,
where no one needed a suburban fortress 
or to defend their gender choices,
to be free live their skin wherever,
and hold a view without it being 
fundamental to not sitting together,
being free of geographical mindedness,
stepping out of claustrophobic profiles
and poisonous ideological immaturities.

What if we held each other like a new born,
or trusted each other like a first kiss,
took a risk on the adventure of discovering
the stranger we are in other's eyes,
living beyond the certainties of knowing,
to look into another and begin to see life,
refusing to avoid the words of neighbours,
instead, listening to the novellas of journey,
sharing the narratives of uncertainty,
feeling the depth of their pain.
What would that world look like?


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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By Heart – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found at quora.com

“At night, when the sky is full of stars and the sea is still, you get the wonderful sensation that you are floating in space.” Natalie Wood

By Heart

Tonight I'm travelling lightly,
no dusty roads or 
city lights for me,
I'm going by the stars,
those sages of illumination,
patrons of all perigrinati
desiring navigation sans maps
beyond the mundane,
upwards,
floating with imagination,
ever lifted by joy,
immersed in the meaning
experienced by hearts.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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The Shattered Dream – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Withhold admiration from a narcissist and be disliked. Give it and be treated with indifference.” Mason Cooley

The Shattered Dream

When it all just sits unmoving, 
like a clog of hair in a drain,
and no amount of hoping will 
move it or restore the flow,
knowing that when something 
is broken beyond repair,
it cannot be put back together as 
you once dreamed it would,
in that child's wistful eye,
the mountain of dysfunction 
that will never be surmounted,
leaving us all waiting for the
moment that will never come.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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That Immanence Thing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“I like the sea: we understand one another. It is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; and so am I.” Greta Gabo

That Immanence Thing

All at once the world came in,
I felt it,
the bird's feathers touched my soul,
it offered such a sublime, electric song
which made me tremble and 
surrender my fragile breath
in a ripe sigh,
for the idea of the thing,
an unknown held
as a jealous secret,
now echoing through my body
like rich magenta solace
gently brushed in generous strokes.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Behind My Eyes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Ingrid is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about a vision or a dream or both.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Visionary Poetry

“Harmony exists no less in difference than in likeness ….” Margaret Fuller

Behind My Eyes

Behind my eyes a restful view

the shimmer of the sun silver on languid rippled waves slowly rolling in

a sea of hearts turned towards a unitive beat

a yearning for the good of the one beside or next to that one

without any objectification

a mass of connection felt underneath my skin

an inexplicable drawing, wanting, somehow knowing,
a desire between all towards a love for all without question or presumption

at once, possible futures erupting

salvific networks of belonging that linger in waking

somewhere in the background the sound of water caressing a gentle shore.



Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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I Ran Too – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Nowaja at pixabay.com

“I watched the seagulls, I thought, that’s the road to take.” Nikos Kazantzakis

I Ran Too

I was lost in this day,
it all moved so beautifully,
to breathe,
to see,
taste,
feel it all,
first the tree then
the waters edge
where the joggers ran past,
running and running,
until they took feather,
soaring over the glistening water,
and I ran too.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent  Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Souvenirs – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: Vinsky2002 at pixabay.com

“Remember the past, and that there is a future.” Deborah Harkness

Souvenirs 

Memories,
days mantled by feelings
of breathless anticipation,
the constant desire for something,
anything, to happen,
the spark of the next thing,
at the very least a sense of 
movement delaying atrophy,
warding off any wound to the
exponential revolution that
whelmed a generation into action,
now located in opulent coffee-table
books and undergrad courses,
documentaries, all taming towards 
a collective amnesia,
but even now the germ of its 
energy rises from below,
the subvenire of a hope held in
words, songs, art,
waiting for us to attach enough
significance to them they might
be forever held.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

Note: Subvenire is the Latin original for the French souvenir (to remember) and carries the meaning to come from below.

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