Day: October 16, 2018
The Cloud
Mind-Body Dilemma
Illustration from “De Homine” by Rene Descartes
no pain like the pain
broken bodies relocate
inside of the mind
thoughts that hurt for the thinking
afflictions of memory
Secrets (Micro poetry)
embrace me (in your arms)
Embrace me in your arms; wrap me up in the soul of you,
And let me feel you in every way that counts.
Moments like these are so few,
But they’re everything to me.
Those singular moments, the precious seconds that make every minute of you,
I cherish them in the deepest part of my heart,
Letting them soak and ripple,
Encasing me in the best parts of what life has to offer.
Laughing and swaying in the thrill of the moment,
There’s never a place I would rather be.
Embrace me in your trust,
Promise me this isn’t a waste of my time.
Because, my heart has been known to waste precious seconds,
Moments that I’ll never be able to reclaim
For they’re lost in a time I’ll never get back.
So embrace me, just embrace me with everything,
Leaving nothing out, not the good not the bad,
And…
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growing in gray
I find pieces of you in random acts I do,
Some startling, some easily retraced to you.
Heart torn and my heads a mess,
I never wanted to be like you,
So many times I prayed to never commit the same crimes you did,
And it was so much easier when I was younger,
To paint you in the black when I lived in the white,
But I find growing up paints the world in some sort of grey,
And I can’t decided where I fall,
Where I wish I didn’t, and where I so obviously do…
A Pocket Full Of Stars – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
See also:Stellar
A Pocket Full Of Stars
As I left the pub,
brimful of expectancy
I looked up, and,
as I sometimes do,
I nodded in deference to the stars,
a toast to the sentient beings beyond my ken.
And I reached up and grabbed a handful of mystery
so sparkly, light, and effervescent.
And it occurred to me,
that there’s nothing better in all the world,
than a pocket full of stars for my true love.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Aced By Love – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Squash or racquetball, depending where you live, is, in my view, a skilful ricochet or rebound game. If you look closely, you will see a trajectory line showing an impending shot.
Aced By Love
Confused, I looked around,
I swear I saw a reflection,
I craned and there you were,
left of field.
You flashed a smile,
it ricochetted every chamber,
my heart aflutter.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Sometimes people are…
Oblivion
Could you wash my wounds
in the current of your breath,
pass gentle fingers
through my mind.
Retrieve all you see
whether dark or light,
past or present,
all truth and lies.
Find burdens entangled there
left to rest on shoulder bone,
too heavy for this fragile frame
to carry alone.
Could you hold me within sleep
as I quiver inside memory
too painful to relive
with eyes open.
Keep watch as bones
of my chest rise,
then fall in rhythm
with each healing breath.
Gather each silent word
like nectar that seeps
through the cracks
of our brokenness.
Drink from streams of oblivion
as I restore, you compose
we begin to rewrite our truth
turning chaos into poetry.
©Sabrina Escorcio
June 30th, 2017
The Reluctant Poet 