Image: pixabay.com
If you wanted an example of nonsense … here’s a pile 🙂
Shadowy mawk of an open crypt
you dust-tongued wizened husk I smell
skulking, grave-groping, gurgling mass
of a griddle slack squawk eternal,
a mere muffle-toed peep
or sad gingered scrape,
such a hare-heeled fluvial flunk
ever to creep horror loathed
mickle-hearted or
sulphur scrack.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, Nonsense, poem, Quadrille
Photo: found on bing.com
He was the consummate performer,
tongue so adept his
words filled her void
taking her to
dizzying heights
where the feeling lingered
and the sighs were long,
she moaned and
along the carriage
faces stared,
it wasn’t her stop
but her performance
was over.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, Quadrille, relationship, romance, Sex
Photo: pixabay.com
The rugged sandstone fell in chunks
fragmenting in the river below
a millennia past,
and though nothing happened for a time,
or so it seemed,
the stone surrendered to the water
who loved the stone
to an external beauty
that belied its inner strength.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under challenge, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, nature, poem, Quadrille
Image: found on the conversation.com
He is anyone and everywhere
he is hunched
and tapping
machine-gun conversations
of putrescence
volatile, explosive,
deliberately abusive
his anger grins at the screen
while testosterone flywheels energise
but his cause is not the point,
merely to rile
is to win
this game.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, poem, Quadrille
Spike – dVerse Poets Quadrille 75
Photo: healthwealthhappiness.com.au Himalayan Spikenard
Solomon
threw wisdom out the window
just for a moment
as he lay with the woman from Shulem
who came to him in the night
naked, spiced,
sweet to taste,
whose garden,
that holy of holies,
was pure spikenard
fragrance of invitation
to explore.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Note: This poem references Song of Songs variously known as The Canticle, Canticle of Solomon, Song of Solomon, etc. which is part of the Jewish canon (from the scrolls of the Tanakh). The Song of Songs (holy of holies) is a poetic tribute to erotic love focussing on Solomon and an unnamed woman from Shulem. Solomon names her physical parts and she reciprocates, poetically, spikenard being the penultimate aroma of the vagina, or as Solomon says, her channel, or, her garden.
Paul, pvcann.com
Photo: huffingtonpost.com
Sucker punched,
gasping for air
I staggered,
then the searing pain
of the knife between my ribs,
your words are sometimes like that,
like murder,
but then, mine too,
so, hold me
just as I’m holding you,
only love can soothe
such deep wounds.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, love, poem, relationship
Photo: freeimageandvideo.blogspot.com
Try as it might
the rain couldn’t dampen our fever,
we were gone
so drunk on passion,
the rivulets an outward sign
of the cascade within
and, casting reason to the wind,
what began as civil
became unbridled pleasure
as we devoured each other.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, Quadrille, relationship, romance
Photo: pexels.com
Today I gave my attention to a leaf
an early sign
as the gums let go their weight
before the rains of autumn,
nature is always wondering about me,
making sure I know,
giving me signs,
leading me to deeper thoughts
and heartfelt wholeness.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, Gardening, life, mindfulness, nature, poem, Quadrille
Sip – dVerse Poets – Quadrille 74
Photo: culinarylocal.com
To sip or not is a question
of consumption or
of contemplation,
to savour,
to swirl,
to inhale,
to dance with liquid
on my palette
an imbibers meditation
a seduction with velvet soul,
I want my days to be sipped
not just consumed.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, mindfulness, poem, Quadrille
Marilyn Monroe in the Seven Year Itch, 1955.
One thousand books on keeping it real,
another thousand on spicing it up,
those experts will save you
from boredom or spat,
from those
seven rash years, well
just give it a scratch,
like you used to do
back when loved seemed a match.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, Quadrille, relationship, romance
Life is a broadway musical and everyday is a song. These are mine manifested as poetry.
Writing to Help Others Overcome Darkness
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Fun, Frugal France
The independent she who loves life
Just read and think about the it!
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Enhances & Restore Performance, Grow Business & Personal Wealth
Poetry
God, Sant Kirpal Singh Ji, Dr. Harbhajan Singh, Biji Surinder Kaur, Kirpal Sagar, Unity of Man, Spirituality, Love, Compassion, Peace, Non-Violence, Right Understanding, Consciousness, Togetherness, Religions, Mind, Maya, Poems, Aphorism, Digital Art
My journey through the depths of hitting rock bottom and how I faced my fears and have started to turn my life around.
An amateur writer, finding an escape.
Not all who wander are lost
"Remember Me When You Are In Hell!"
Living the Bipolar Life
I'm Hamed M. Dehongi. I am a writer and this is my blog. I like writing poetry, short stories, and novels.
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Moments de vie, fragments de textes et quelques notes...
Life is a broadway musical and everyday is a song. These are mine manifested as poetry.
Writing to Help Others Overcome Darkness
Get in the best shape of your body
Flash Fiction, Poetry, and Short Stories
Thoughts from the Heartland
blogger
Fun, Frugal France
The independent she who loves life
Just read and think about the it!
news , tips , tricks
Enhances & Restore Performance, Grow Business & Personal Wealth
Poetry
God, Sant Kirpal Singh Ji, Dr. Harbhajan Singh, Biji Surinder Kaur, Kirpal Sagar, Unity of Man, Spirituality, Love, Compassion, Peace, Non-Violence, Right Understanding, Consciousness, Togetherness, Religions, Mind, Maya, Poems, Aphorism, Digital Art
My journey through the depths of hitting rock bottom and how I faced my fears and have started to turn my life around.
An amateur writer, finding an escape.
Not all who wander are lost
