At dVerse Frank is hosting Meet The Bar and inviting us to write a death poem, Jisei – Haikai, Haiku, Tanka, Senryu, etc.
dVerse Poets – Meet The Bar – Jisei
“There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.” Beverly Sills
The koi are less lived in my lotus dreams of night the eve I long for ©Paul Vincent Cannon
VJs Weekly Challenge – Intimacy
“Real intimacy is a sacred experience.” John O’Donohue
Hung By Threads We were sleek gazelles caught in the moment of spring, drawn to sup the youthfulness of our open, tender flesh, mirrored in our eyes of lusted, dilated caresses, dishevelled electric pulses flushed on skin, opening us to summered days of trusted space and listened moments so raw that we hung by threads of breathless knowing unborn of reason, and the once moist latch now open to the treasured feltness of heart, bonded as healed wounds, and vested in renewed seeing that we dared to share as we grazed the plains of intimacy unafraid of lions. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
Filed under awareness, challenge, Free Verse, life, love, passion, poem, quote, relationship
At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics and has invited us to write about eyes.
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Look Into My Eyes
“Tears are the silent language of grief.” Voltaire
Held I offered a word of unction as soothe in the hard litany of life's steal of breath that you held in that moment of discordant caverns and clawed violins as the world slipped over its own edge, and your eyes declared a pulsing reach of heart that awakened in a welling of bearing held between us in a knowing, sharing, through solitary to a lifting connect, diminishing the awful theft of happiness, a restorative without need of voice, just deep eye-felt conversation. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
At dVerse, De is hosting the Quadrille ( a poem of 44 words) using the word or any of its forms – possibility. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Possibility
“Life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream.” Alfred de Musset
The Possibility Of Her Carefully crafted, she was a composite of every fiction, his pulse quickened, anticipating the possibility of her arrival, the creaking door announcing her, now hovering, conversing only in tongues, his tortured lips in flames, he woke, lost in a fug as the door creaked. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
“The nightmare of materialism, which has turned the life of the universe into an evil, useless game, is not yet past; it holds the awakening soul still in its grip.” Wassily Kandinsky
The Sea Of Stuff To have is to drown in a sea of grasp, like a pearl diver, weighting for the deeper dive into mortality, driven by addiction to the elusive hope that the future past is more real than being in the brevity of this present moment, looking for meaning in the shifting shadows of the masquerade for which we create the most elaborate fictions for ourselves in metrics of the inanimate, while our centre holds to true happiness. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
“I can be jubilant one moment and pensive the next, and a cloud could go by and make that happen.” Bob Dylan
A Lightness Just to savour rather than capture, to look rather than touch, holding in the heart of the mind a whist of chameleon memory coloured by fragments of moments, new insights from old feelings, like clouds, not one the same, in an ever present paradox of sky, just to hold without holding, a lightness where thoughts are free to please as they come and go. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
At dVerse Linda is hosting Open Link Night, when we post our own choice of poem.
dVerse Poets – Open Link Night
“The years are too short, the days are too long.” Joseph Heller
In The Crush The day's tide elongated my hours like thick, slow squeezed lemon, the juice of a day in the crush of a hand now flexed and dripping. Like thick, slow squeezed lemon with a mess of acid citrus down, a hand now flexed and dripping so much a tap of flowing water. With a mess of acid citrus down, the day simply drizzled along, so much a tap of flowing river along the moments so tart and, The day simply drizzled along, the juice of a day in a crush of, along the moments so tart and, the day's tide elongated my hours. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
Filed under Free Verse, life, mindfulness, Pantoum, poem, quote
VJs Weekly Challenge – Frivolous
“The willow which bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak that resists it; and so in great calamities it sometimes happens that light and frivolous spirits recover their elasticity and presence of mind sooner than those of a loftier character.” Albert Schweitzer
Feeling Frivoled The garish pumpkin thing screamed to be left on the shelf, serving no discernible purpose, having no possible place in the home among the refined china sculptures, but it was Thursday and it was, after all, spring, and the fever was high for change, for a whim of whimsy, besides, what would life be without a frivol, to matter not mattering, to draw one's sword or buy two pies kiss a random stranger or order caviar and just leave it, get a grotesque mascot for the dashboard, or a tennis racquet never to be used, I just might. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
At dVerse Peter is hosting Poetics and has invited us write a poem as witness (to a news event or an event).
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Poetry as Witness
“Misogyny is hostility toward the women who threaten to remove the male status as superior to women.” Jill A. Stoddard
Just Let Her Speak She appeared dressed for the microphone, I even saw her lips move in pantomime, but you voiced her down, wrapping her in shrouds of misogyny, swaddled her in your patriarchal goitre, and gave your words to her lips as you pigeon-chested the throng with your smirk faced denouement, a coda of lament for the poor boys whose groins yearned for possession of skirted public property, how could you possibly listen let alone reflect, you members of parliament erect, she appeared dressed for the microphone, just let her speak. ©Paul Vincent Cannon Note: Misogyny: from the Greek misein (μισειν) hate + gyne (γυνε) woman.
At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery where we are invited to write 144 words including a provided line. Merril has given us a Liesel Mueller line from her poem ‘Drawings By Children’ – “There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.’
There I Really Am
There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles. I claimed it long ago, it is my favourite space, but it just takes time to get there. It’s not that I’ve forgotten the way, it’s just simply that I don’t make enough time to wander there. But days come when I have to be there. It’s the space where I find my still point and enter into silence, well, mostly. Somedays my irascible shadow is less than golden and flings up the dust and detritus of my life as a taunt, a distraction. If I pay no attention it doesn’t go away, so I let it have a little reign until it outruns itself and peters out and I return to myself. There is nothing behind that wall except the real me letting the winds of time whistle through me.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Filed under awareness, life, prose, psychology
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Blog, garden & other projects of Chloe Calendula
Let's bake Simple & Healthy from your Pantry !!!
SITE FOR KNOWLEDGE AND FACTS
Zen, Meditations, Poetry
Advertising,Alternative Energy,Aquarium, Astrology, Astronomy, Auctions, Ballet, Ballroom Dancing
musings of a psychedelic punk rock renaissance yogini and late-blooming athlete
Sharing Sights and Sounds, Words and Wonder
Watch The Outer Space Moon and Stars
Poetry with Attitude & Gratitude! Explore, Enquire, Examine.
Just another WordPress.com site
Capturing the wonders of nature and people through photography and acylic painting
A los que traspasan muros y fronteras.
Bloggeur , Designe et Sociologue
komalblogging
Fashion . Lifestyle . Beauty . Travel . Conscious Living
Words written when connected with God
Food, nature, stories, and more. . .
