“Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge. Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat. Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.” WritingArtPoetryArtistLiteratureWaterFictionCreativityWrittenBooksPoetExpressionPoemLettersHarmonyUnityWordsBoatPoetry QuotesAuthorWriterConnectionSwimSwimmingRhymeCreative WritingWriteVesselWriting QuotesKamandKojouriKamand KojouriSaveSpoken WordSwimmerBridgeYachtIslandShipVerseConnectNovelistWater QuotesBridge QuotesWater Is LifeLimerickWaterfallPoetessWhat Is PoetryCanoeLifeboatStanzaKayakPoetry Poem Author:Kamand Kojouri
“Mister Jordan?” Came the genteel, restrained voice of a more senior gentleman in the front of the canoe. “Yes, General?” “Shut up.” The General said curtly. “You’re scaring the fish.” GentlemanSeniorYesGeneralShutMisterRestrainedCanoeGenteelCurtly Book:Prodigal Sun Source: Prodigal Sun
“All right, he thought, take one thing at a time. Just one thing. I poked my leg with an arrow. There. Good. I pulled the arrow out. My leg still works. It must not have been a broadhead because it didn't go in very deep. Good. My tent collapsed. There. Another thing. I'm in a tent and it collapsed. I just have to find the front zipper and get out and climb up the bank. Easy now, easy. Something hit me on the head. What? Something big that thunked. The canoe. The wind picked up the canoe and it hit me.” TentArrowCanoe Author:Gary Paulsen
“The father and daughter made their way north, through unknown sylvan paradises where only the owls and skunks know their way around. The hard work of paddling non-stop for many hours had long since stopped being difficult for Saweyimew. In spite of her beauty and grace, her back had grown strong and sinewy from years of canoe trips. She reveled in the exhilaration it always brought her, after the first few hours left her body insensible to pain or discomfort. Warm and tingly, lulled into peaceful contemplation by hours of the rhythmic paddling, the smell of the water, exotic blooms, animal musk. It all combined as one to make her feel so alive. Especially when it rained, and her body steamed against the cool drops, feeling invincible against the elements. The mountain of her father's back was like a rock against anything nature could throw against them. The stream of fragrant pipe-smoke still flowing from his lips, regardless of any obstacle. She felt at that moment, nothing would ever stop her father's pipe from smoking. Nothing, not death, not any force of the living or spirit world, would ever still her father's heart. Rain cleansing her to the core, she was a spring of raw power and self-reliance, paddling against all adversity--their master completely. Her father's daughter. At times like that, when it rained, she entirely understood and shared her father's outlook on life.” FatherNatureFantasyStrengthDaughterAdversityShort StorySelf RelianceStrength Through AdversityShort StoriesFathers And DaughtersPaddlingLoreFather DaughterCanoeCanoingFaughter And Daughter Book:Forgotten Lore: Volume II Source: Forgotten Lore: Volume II
“It has always been my belief that you can judge the compatibility of two people by the rhythm of their paddle stroke.” RhythmWildernessCompatibilityCanoeingKayakingCanoeKayak Book:THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel Source: THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel