Photo: pexels.com
It was the same every morning,
he raked the coals
and urged the kettle on.
Forlorn the stained enamel mug waited
for the sacrament of tea,
as he washed over the basin,
knowing the day ahead.
the exact times of fences and sheep.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvann.com
Photo: pexels.com
Warm as the night was
you shivered as I drew you closer,
and we descended into a maelstrom,
waves washing over us,
so fierce,
yet so gentle.
Carefully we chartered a course
and found a safe harbour,
devouring our storm,
now utterly spent,
sated.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Hyacinth Bucket, the quintessential snob and taciturn type – from “Keeping Up Appearances”
I saw you over in the corner,
away from the hum of the parlour debate
where opinion passed as fact,
your anxiety hidden by a cool poise
that some thought was an air of snobbery,
your stance aloof.
But I knew you wanted to run away,
to hide,
avoiding the ignoble prattle
of the wine glass heroes
that violated every sense.
You wanted to find a safe space,
that included all you hold dear,
and fill it with creative visions of joy.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under life, poetry, psychology
Photo: http://www.medievalfantasieco.com
Complete,
needing no one,
guarding every fibre of your being,
impenetrable,
your body chained,
protected against the words
that might one day creep under your maille,
and steal your distance,
bring you close
and expose the wound of love
you cannot bear to feel.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Note: Chainmail is derived from the French ‘Maille’ which is in turn derived from the Latin ‘Macula’ (meaning mesh or net). Chainmail is thought to have been invented by the Celts before the 5th century AD.
Paul,
pvcann.com
Photo: http://www.sexysingular.com
What possessed you?
Did you think I’d be impressed if you grovelled?
That I wouldn’t wonder where your dignity lay?
Surely, lower that the soles of my shoes
which you readily moistened with your lips.
What chance respect now?
Now that you’ve declared an unreserved submission
that was never once desired,
least of all by me?
What hope is there for you, for me, for all the world?
And end to it!
Arise and speak with me
of needs and wants, hopes and dreams,
of far away lands and desperate sorrows,
of grief, of love, of sparrows.
And let us look each other in the eye and know
that we can trust our truths
and hold each other’s dreams
and keep our shoes dry,
lest in turn, we own each other.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under life, love, mindfulness, poetry, politics, Spirituality, Work
Masquerade by Johanna Rohrbough – Pinterest
I felt your presence in the madding crowd,
your hand sought mine
in the whirl of dance and blur of sounds.
And out of the bacchanalian chaos came stillness,
as the crowd swept over us,
round us,
beyond us,
and we were alone in eye of the storm.
Your energy radiated
as if you were the carnival incarnate,
and your mask could not hide
the intention in your eyes.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Photo: pexels.com
Your breath kisses me before our lips delight,
the softest kiss of all,
and your eyes speak the mystery of wanting,
a celestial language of ascent
that needs no words,
only the pulse of desire,
rising,
longing.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
I see you every night,
a little obsessive some would say.
“Why don’t you do something else once in a while”,
they kindly intone.
But I’m home most nights just to be with you,
I cook and we share dinner,
you always dress so nice for me,
I just love to watch your face as you talk.
Have I told you about my feelings for you?
No.
And oblivious, you chatter away about the weather,
the latest news, and gossip.
I silently soak it all up,
just basking in your presence.
And when you finish that last sentence,
as I know you will,
I change the channel.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Rachel Carson (1907 – 64) (Photo: post-gazette.com) Carson was a marine scientist whose most known public work was “Silent Spring” (1962), a clarion call for humanity to address their impact on nature. In particular, Silent Spring is an investigation into pesticides. Carson wrote: “They should not be called “insecticides” but “biocides.” Rachel Carson, Silent Spring, p. 189.
“We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost’s familiar poem , they are not equally fair. The road we have long been travelling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road – the one less travelled by – offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of the earth.” Rachel Carson, Silent Spring p. 277.
Carson was an exemplar of both environmental awareness and activism as a scientist and writer.
The old grandfather clock in the hallway is ticking,
but there’s no one to note the passing of the hour,
they’re everywhere else in this big old house,
in rooms of self,
halls of bustle,
where the carpets are dusty and threadbare,
the varnish no longer present to the wood,
and the paint so sallow.
Things should have been fixed long ago,
but our will wasn’t urgent to the task.
Grandad’s monocle popped when the quotes came in,
and we gave up,
preferring the pleasured, anaesthetised life.
Had we ventured to the hallway,
and listened closely,
we’d have known that the clock had tocked its last.
The eleventh hour cried to us,
but we mocked its melodrama,
and bargained that Chronos would let us slide,
and all the while our house is falling,
falling down upon us.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under chemicals, environment, history, life, Link, mindfulness, nature, poetry, quote, Science
Mentor: In Homer’s epic “Odyssey” Mentor was the trusted friend of Odysseus, and during the the time that Odysseus was away fighting in the Trojan war, Mentor cared for Odysseus’ son Telemachus. Mentor’s role was to prepare Telemachus for leadership of the family. And so we use the term today to describe someone who takes us under their wing so that they can help and guide us in matters of life and study and work. See also, Mentor
There’s always that first one,
perhaps you remember?
That kiss,
caress,
crossing the line,
warm with excitement.
Intimacies that temporarily quench desire,
but are not love.
Rather, they are a course woven through desire,
a learning of love,
of how to be love,
to be a lover.
That first one is our guide,
a gift of loved learning.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
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''Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I'll meet you there'' Rumi
