Monthly Archives: October 2018

These Loathsome Days – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Deplorable – Word of the Day

0d5ded1e32af18393424f98fae23ba82.jpeg

Photo: cdn.newspapi.com.au  The current drought in New South Wales.

 

These Loathsome Days

The dust laments its loss of grass
as the wind whips it to and fro,
while the windmill creaks
and groans to turn a drop,
but the rains have never come.
Call came through this afternoon
that Davo’s shooting sheep,
I guess ours will soon be gone.
There’s nothing for the dogs to do,
no money for the list,
hell, we’ve been down this path before,
and we’ve bounced back,
but I guess I’m older now
and I’m less inclined to fight.
This land of my father’s,
this Eden all dead and dry,
will soon be taken by the bank,
and I’ll be roaming on,
but until the last
I’m standing by,
my eyes fixed for a cloud,
hoping the charity of heaven might come,
O these loathsome bloody days.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

1 Comment

Filed under Farm, farming, Free Verse, poem

Cafe Prophets

Prophetic – Word of the Day

pexels-photo-210766.jpeg

Photo: pexels.com

 

Cafe Prophets

Like some millenarian sect
we huddled over our espresso,
reading the bitter dregs,
auguries of something dark,
quoting Nietzsche dire,
plotting the world,
tilting at paper windmills,
drinking in the end of all that was nigh.
But the singer interrupted
and set us straight,
upbraiding our naivety,
setting a vision
of worlds yet unseen,
horizons unpassed,
lovers unheld,
life to be lived,
not in chairs
or thaumaturgy,
but in the muck and mess of life
out along the streets.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

11 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, life, poem, Uncategorized

Soft Paths – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Exploring – Word of the Day

hug-wallpaper-7.jpg

Photo: https://wallpaper-gallery.net

 

Soft Paths

They say that love is blind
and, that being said,
though our hearts have seen inside,
I must now, like a blind man,
take in the braille of your beauty.
And, as our lips speak pleasure,
an entree of delight,
there’s a tremble of anticipation,
as our hands take soft paths
to places over the moon.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

22 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, poetry

Speaking Silence – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Discovery – 5 Lines

pexels-photo-775417.jpeg

Photo: pexels.com

 

Speaking Silence

It took a while, a circuit or three,
but I discovered that silence is not the silence I thought it was,
for silence speaks a language of other,
a knowing not knowing that speaks for itself,
arriving and arriving and arriving.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

22 Comments

Filed under Five Lines, Free Verse, meditation, poem, poetry

The Plight Of The Bumble Bee

Emergency – Word of the Day

pexels-photo-784359.jpeg

Photo: pexels.com

 

The Plight Of The Bumble Bee

Carbon sucker punch
with chemical balm,
the bees are bummed,
dropping dead down.
It’s not just the honey,
there’ll be no fruit,
nature’s little cupid is caput,
the bee-eaters are thinning,
a global emergency is upon us now.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

17 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, nature, poem, poetry, Quadrille, Uncategorized

Fluent Manure – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Conceit – Word of the Day

1066874_1341336980969_full.png

Photo: images5.fanpop.com

The character of Joffrey, is for me, a perfect example of conceit, among other unfavourable descriptions, a thoroughly unlikeable character, full of himself and his privilege. But of course, fictional characters are constructs of people in the real world.

 

Fluent Manure

Your comments are pure selfies,
complete self-reference is your modus,
no rose-tinted for you,
your opinion is ated,
with views on everything,
you speak for others
before they speak for themselves,
uncanny how you do that.
You speak for the world,
because, well, you just know.
But we all know,
you speak a special language,
you speak fluent manure!

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

34 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, life, poem

A Spell Of Tea – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Sleep – 5 Lines

pexels-photo-206441-1.jpeg

Photo: pexels.com

 

A Spell Of  Tea

So still,
spindle and needle lie forlorn,
your breathing so shallow,
you awaken from the longest slumber
with the aroma of fresh Darjeeling.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

25 Comments

Filed under Five Lines, life, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

Aced By Love – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Ricochet – Word of the Day

image002.jpg

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

25 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

Silence Of The Trolls – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Troll – Word of the Day

pexels-photo-735911.jpeg

Photo: pexels.com

 

Silence Of The Trolls

Your hand hovers over the keys,
to abuse, or not to abuse,
a momentary question,
lost in the lust for gratification,
a gas-lighter’s delight
mayhem and pain,
sowing the seeds of doubt
like a hot knife
to the heart of the unsuspecting.
But I have discovered your weakness,
I hold my silence to your hand.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

21 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, poem, poetry

One Thing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Pacify – Word of the Day

shelter.jpg

Cargotecture – one of many options now coming on-stream across the world, as reported in 2013 Homeless Housing 

 

One Thing

Wearily he closed the door
and slumped on the floor,
the day had wandered,
and, like a bloodhound,
he knew every pavement
as he walked the daylight away,
just waiting for the night-shelter.
No alcohol allowed,
but that didn’t matter,
nothing could pacify the haunting
that devoured his mind and seared his heart,
diminishing every fibre of him.
The tears no longer came,
he was empty now,
but he had one thing, a calling,
to know the pavements who walked with him.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

13 Comments

Filed under life, poem, poetry