To Paddle One's Canoe Over Still Waters (A Poem About Fictitious Love Stories)

To Paddle One's Canoe Over Still Waters



Seeming storylines are child's play

Appearing to you like 'tis

something funny


Out of our little trembling political


If only stars are the silent majority


They must twinkle—endlessly, without a noise


No matter how far we are,


The light year spanned space-time

to have brought

me to you


—wondering, now, if vice versa is





In a sense of delight that had made

young lovers swoon

'Tis a mother's loving caress to a



A perfect love of Astrological


And forever they will

choose to share lovingkindness



—to each other & for others.

As well.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited on 11.23.2019 (I have supplanted the {minor misspelling of "light year"} but this time, I think I have added a period as its resulting emendation, due to a possible lack of it which was previously left unnoticed).



This is a repost from my Twitter platform & which has been edited for a very minor misspelling of "light year".  I have corrected the two-word noun.  For anything else that I might have edited (e.g., I might have also missed), that could only be involving a tweaking of the form (e.g., which might have been changed/affected by my copying & pasting method of the verses; either that or other copyediting stuff like by changing fonts/font sizes).  Thank you for checking it out.

All the Instances in Which I Feel Absurd

Floating in and out of space
I close my eyes to calculate
All the instances in which I feel absurd

Though carried by galactic grace
Not surprising that I’ve found a way
To stumble over everything

A long dark plunge into the blue
The unfamiliarity easily construed
There’s nobody here

Colorful shades of dark, dull, and gray
I’m not down but I’m not up, I’m just around
Hoping, but not anticipating, a change in tune
A lot less willing to be now
If I could pause myself and never again resume

Floating in and out of space
I close my eyes to calculate
All the instances in which I feel absurd

Author's Notes/Comments: 

posted from old account

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user img
the color of detachment
the color of peace
of the sky which
holds onto nothing
and of
of desireless seas
-saiom shriver-

*Pic source:


-saiom shriver-



Pic source:


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Along the highway

Saw a dog, dead on the road

Wondering how I feel

It hurts, in my gut or just above...

In my center

Yet I remain detached...

at some level...

Like everything is as it should be...

We are afterall part of the same whole

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Weeds in Melting Sand

Roots bore into glass and found no running taps.
It cracked, and shards fell sweeping, in wide sheets,
like a living blanket that can only crumble, never warm.
The air was drowned in glimmer, poisonous to breathe,
relegated down and stamped beneath our feet just as
we see it as decor, clearly placed for we, who are
the superlative of being, though we cannot find
a softness in our seeking - a crevace that may house;
a rift of cozing doldrums that we may bleed between.
We age and we expand, driving through and forth
toward the soothing warmth, breaking every surface
that dared to hold our weight. And while we tend to forage,
and ruthlessly progress; our roots will never still,
our twigs will turn to fangs; our menagerie of truths
will soundlessly fall, while the thinning blocks of clarity
break and scatter far from these gardens made of nothing.