May 18, 2022 · 3:14 pm

Fish For The Moon – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem using one or more compound words separated but without any intervening words, within a poem. I chose the compound Starfish.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Compound Me

Photo: localweathertracker.com

“It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the moon.” Galileo Galilei

Fish For The Moon

One night you said,
look at the sky, and I
marvelled at the array of lights,
and you asked if I had noticed 
the brightest one in Orion, 
O yes, Rigel, without a doubt
a grand star, fish for the moon
I said, it is a goddess far beyond
the mere twinkling lights afar.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 17, 2022 · 2:01 pm

Did I Dream It? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write a poem about sleep in any form.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Sleepy Times

Photo: OmarMedinafilms at pixabay.com

“Things taste better outdoors. And if it’s a forbidden thing, so much the better.” Franny Billingsley 

Did I Dream It?

I cupped your breast and
supped your lips beneath 
the bowed table of rich plenty,
when the sky was open and your 
eyes invited me to worlds beyond
your sleepy smile, of dragonflies and
kingfishers, seeds laughing along
the air, did I dream it?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 16, 2022 · 2:48 pm

Am – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Ocean Beach, near Denmark, Western Australia.

“On this path let your heart be the guide.” Rumi

Am

I am at the edge,
beyond the vanishing horizon,
where wave and shore become one 
and where sand lines are being 
effortlessly redrawn by those who
are nowhere to be seen, though 
deep down I suspect they are real,
forcing me to look closer at my
ambivalence towards the world
and know that I must draw my 
own lines, whose strands will
never unravel in the face of the
strange tides ahead.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 15, 2022 · 3:50 pm

I Have A Question – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: fsHH at pixabay.com

“People have always wanted answers to the big questions.” Stephen Hawking

I Have A Question

You lit the candle and said the words,
you turned six times and stirred the dust,
you drank the bitter herbs and danced,
calmness descended, peace emanated,
perhaps it is the repetition in dark times
that helps, but are these rituals marking 
time, a deja vu that holds a pattern, are 
they a tourniquet that restricts any forward
flow, or do they protect you from falling to
the past, or do they imprison you in 
disintegrated worlds?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 14, 2022 · 2:33 pm

Better To Question – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: MabelAmber at pixabay.com

“Consider what story you want to tell.” Marie Brennan

Better To Question

My nature is to question,
to give an answer can, on the
occasion of your being somewhat lost,
be very helpful when I direct you to the
very place you want to get to, but only
geographically, no one really wants or
even needs solutions to what they 
intuitively know they must experience 
along life's road, our story is simply that,
our story, we cannot be anyone else's story.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 13, 2022 · 1:39 pm

Bloodsuckers We Promoted – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: darksouls1 at pixabay.com

“Politics: “Poli” a Latin word meaning “many” and “tics” meaning “bloodsucking creatures.” Robin Williams

Bloodsuckers We Promoted

Why the fear of a lone dark walk
as the wind whistles round the 
ancient stones with only the moon
as friend, why be troubled by shadows
that move as the mind worries, why the
concern for the imagined soft swish of
wings, be it Dracul or some other night
beast lusting your blood, why bother
with such fictions of the night when
the realities of the day are far more
compelling and terrifying, the real
sharp teeth belonging to those we 
trusted with public office.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 12, 2022 · 2:46 pm

Are We Listening? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: from spring 2018, Leda Nature Reserve, Everlastings in full bloom. (One or two rains and the bush comes alive)

“The forest makes your heart gentle, You become one with it … No place for greed or anger there.” Pha Pachak

Are We Listening?

Do winds come to die, or the 
ocean exhaust itself upon the shore,
are trees silent before the storms of
humanity, does grass wither?
You might think it if you took no time 
to stop and listen, for trees speak in
silences and grass always regenerates,
while oceans shout in their return,
winds take time to rest and even the
soil speaks if we would but listen.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 11, 2022 · 2:52 pm

Sweet Pomegranate – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Misky is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem about food.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Bon Appetit Food Poetry

Photo: Pomegranate by SusaWick at pixabay.com

“I would eat my way into perdition to taste you.” Jeanette Winterson

Sweet Pomegranate 

Your flesh so firm and rubenesquely rounded,
much the colour of a red wild rose, though
less of the wild of heart and so hard to get to,
needing to grasped firmly and torn apart until
your womb surrenders a thousand seed of
your life-blood bleeding down my chin as I 
rake your inner flesh for want of more.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 10, 2022 · 3:20 pm

Only Love Passes This Way Twice – Prosery by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery (144 words) with an invitation to use a line from the poem ‘May Day” by Sara Teasdale: the line is – “For how can I be sure I shall see again The world on the first of May.”

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Sara Teasdale and May

Photo: the Hardy Inlet, Augusta.

“The thing about roads is that you happen upon them again.” Jill Santopolo

Only Love Passes This Way Twice

They say that a river doesn't pass twice, cannot be touched twice, only flows by once in its purest self, which is not its purest self, except for the sake of that moment in which it is truly one, never to be one in the same way again. Everything is emerging while yet everything is passing. This is, perhaps, well beyond our capacity to know, but yet it is in our capacity to feel.

And yet, this is always so difficult. For how can I be sure I shall see again the world on the first of May, when surely, like water, it shall not pass this way again? It will not be. In its purity it cannot be, as I cannot be but once. Unlike love, which is eternally, perpetually, proposing new ways to us, courting our attention as it continually passes by.



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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May 9, 2022 · 2:31 pm

Big – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Julia_photo367 at pixabay.com

“Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” Robert Frost

Big

Why does the sound of a car like that
in the early evening set me on edge,
not in a fearful way, not in a knowing 
way, although I remember my youth,
but in the way it undoes my sense of
equilibrium without even trying?

That violin in Massenet's Thais as a 
meditation unfolds my heart in ways 
that open me to a rush of feelings that 
are confusing, always colliding, why is 
it that I am so happy when yet I am sad,
melancholic in orchestrations?

How can it be that new discoveries 
make me pine for campus days and
raw, original thoughts, now lost in the
annals of acquiescence to the facade of 
the realities of routinised living, detached,
yet bubbling below my surfaced life?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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