Tag Archives: poem

There I Am

Epiphany – Word of the Day

vitaliy-pakhnyushchyy-dew-drop-on-a-blade-of-grass_a-G-12758137-14258384.jpg

(Image: imgc.allpostersimages.com)

And There I am

Despite the warmth, there’s still dew
my shoes wet
hurriedly marching
briefcase my conscience
notifications bleeping
a car alarm sounds far away
I don’t really care.
My mind a kaleidoscope of
of another day,
like a magnet drawing me ever onwards.
Caffeine,
Sweet sister caffeine,
please, just one.
The park blurs
hands full
still marching
I clip the curb
dramatic eclipse
change on the ground
stopping, retrieving.
Time ceases.
There’s still dew,
lush verdant blades,
light.
A diamond?
A diamond!
All is still, not even a wisp of breath.
The air hangs like velvet,
the grass like feathers.
A tiny drop, perfect, a mirror
of all.
And there I am,
I touch the fabric of the universe,
and there I am.

Β©Paul Cannon

9 Comments

Filed under community, life, nature, poetry

Maybe Tomorrow

Limerence – Word of the Day

RAG TAG DAILY PROMPT

66afda3a54fd226ce8766028cc6d9201--art-paintings-the-train.jpg

Paul Gustave Fischer (1860 – 1934) ‘In The Train Compartment’

Maybe Tomorrow

Everyone smiles as you pass,
your laugh a gentle therapy.
No one ignores you.
Three seats down, side on
if only I could catch your eye, just for me, just once.
Your energy, your hair, that, yes, that curve ...
My pulse is crowding my temples.
My lungs are drawing in fire.
Surely I will cease to exist if I can't speak your name.
Someone speaks ...
My mind is lost, floating.
"What?"
"Is that seat taken?"
"Oh, no, no ...
Leave me alone with my thoughts,
don't even breathe.
My heart races, surely I am exposed
I'm giddy, drunk.
But she looks elsewhere
out the window
like yesterday.
I exhale sharply as you leave, again.
The train doors roll shut.
Love retreats down platform nine.
Maybe tomorrow ...
Maybe.

Β©Paul Cannon

Paul,

pvcann.com

39 Comments

Filed under life, love, poetry, Trains

Bliss

Bliss

IMG_0577.jpg

The road taken, the trail traversed, the track experienced, this is my bliss. It plays into aspects of my life not walking related, the roads taken in reading, painting, gardening, meals, friendships, driving … There are friends along the way, sister tree, brother rock, birds, marsupials, fish, so much to enjoy and take in, and get to know in some way. The road taken might mean another or others not taken, but so be it, and as Frost says, this one “has made all the difference.” Though, clearly, he could have said the same had he walked the other one. But, and I agree, the road less travelled is somehow more inviting. Perhaps its the liminance of choice, the threshold that is truly delicious?

And, speaking of Robert Frost, one of the truly great poets in my estimation, wrote this wonderful poem, a poem which is ingrained in my psyche, a poem I have embodied, and which in part goes some to explaining my bliss of bush walking and love of nature. I tell it with a sigh, a sigh of longing, and a sigh of love.

The Road Not Taken (Robert Frost)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Absolutely,

Paul,

pvcann.com

22 Comments

Filed under bush walking, Country, life, poetry, Spirituality