Tag Archives: Dream

I Swam Through Rooms – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Dream

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“Dreams are illustrations …. from the book your soul is writing about you.”  Marsha Norman

I Swam Through Rooms

At some point
when time slipped into time
and lost itself,
I joined in and found my way,
it jumbled in my eyes,
so fast, so slow,
and back again,
a chain,
a heron,
boats and trains
all upside down
floating,
as winged beast hovered overhead
mysterious doors and coloured lights
glowed all around,
and I swam through rooms,
dived through windows,
such a rollercoaster ride,
till mystery entered,
a shadowy figure
inviting me to follow.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

 

 

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I Was Me – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Envision – Word of the Day

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“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.”  T.S. Eliot ‘Little Gidding’ (Four Quartets)

 

I Was Me

In my dream
we launched the Major Tom
and thrust through painted skies
hung with unknown stars,
like Theramania and Volsatus,
with exotic faces
and rarefied air,
a luminous melange
beckoning us
with exciting possibilities,
and yet,
even as we landed,
I knew that I was me
and you were you,
and that’s how it should be,
that’s how it is.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,  pvcann.com

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As I Live It – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Dream – Word of the Day

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Photo:  livescience.com

 

As I Live It

I too have a dream,
of a world devoid of fear,
and all that we construe as evil,
a world where nature laughs and breathes,
where trees do not tremble,
and water comes alive,
where no one needs for necessities,
and simplicity is compassion.
A world where we feel,
where we touch the inner,
and where no one is left behind.
I have a dream that it will happen,
as I live it,
as I be.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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Where All Is Gift – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Dream – RDP Prompt

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Where All Is Gift

Behind my eyes lie other worlds,
deep in my unconscious,
and, though never quite the same,
there are many familiars,
alongside such wonderment,
where shadow meets soul,
scape upon scape,
in conversations of colours,
sounds and places.
A sojourn without end
where all is gift.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

10 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, mindfulness, poem, psychology, Quadrille