Monthly Archives: March 2019

March 24, 2019 · 3:52 pm

Anything Else? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Feast – Word of the Day

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Photo: popsugar.com

 

Anything Else?

The waiter hovered solicitous
as we divined the menu
a sumptuous poem for the palate,
a veritable bacchanale,
the candle flickered as we talked with passion
reordering our every moment of the day,
we rejoiced in the smells of the jus and the spices
chewing with tender delight
the fat on our lips glistened
while the gravy ran down our chins
we laughed and we sighed
meditating on every morsel and word
forgetting the world
indulging each other
I took your hand
you stroked my ankle
the waiter hovered once more
was there anything else
O yes please,
Oysters, shucked, of course
but at home we had a different feast.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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March 23, 2019 · 2:32 pm

False Judgement – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Identity – Word of the Day

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

False Judgement

There she sits
her beautiful eyes betrayed by
the frowning accusations of others
her headscarf a crime
the judgement made
identity assigned by the fetid mouths
of ignorance,
but who is she?
Any one of a dozen cultures
and none
of course,
the beauty of she
is that she is she and
unrelated to your barbed mouth.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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March 22, 2019 · 2:27 pm

Indelible Wholeness – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Satisfy – Word of the Day

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

Indelible Wholeness

The tide turned
from paucity to obscenity
with omnipotent enthusiasm
fit for a god,
Noah was a dullard,
two would never suit
four, six, ten,
never a slice or a sip
the whole damn lot,
repetitive
naked carnality
right down to the bone
with alacrity,
an impossible consumption
and yet,
the corrective of
silence,
stillness,
awareness.
nature’s abundant
ever present beauty,
an indelible wholeness,
truly satisfy my soul.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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March 21, 2019 · 4:29 pm

The Circle And The Seer – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

 

The Circle And The Seer

I was transfixed,
in a daze,
while slowly, the figure appeared,
at first formless
then finding shape
and one I’d seen before,
long, long ago,
this was Emerald the Golden Seer,
now my mind was spinning
what was all this to mean?
I was in the presence of a seer
and no ordinary seer.
Smiling, she addressed me,
“Keeper, it was good of you to come.”
“I had little choice in the matter” said I,
“No matter” said She, “Come sit,
we have urgent work to do.”
as I sat beside her, she stood
and calmly moved to the circle’s edge
and carefully threw a double handful
of orange powder into the circle,
with which the circle became a boiling mass.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

25 Comments

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March 20, 2019 · 12:48 pm

Hard Work – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge 40 – Things My Father Said

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Photo: dwphoto.com.au

 

Hard Work

How to describe,
what to say of it all,
what comes as I remember
that his fists talked more than his jaw?
The tears he wept when he broke things
that mattered to the heart,
recompense so cloying
nothing could repair,
he was battered by birth and by life
he knew little of China or Morocco
but he knew that the coal that he shovelled
wasn’t anything of him,
though he never felt devalued
cos’ he’d say:
“Hard work never did anyone any harm.”
Yet it’s understatedly hard when
you love who hurts,
and that’s the real work of life;
it’s years now since he’s been gone
and my thoughts are more sober now,
I miss him a lot for the good things
and the occasional reactive quip:
“Don’t worry son, worry never achieves anything.”
and, in spite of everything,
I’ve discovered that’s true.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

53 Comments

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March 19, 2019 · 8:36 pm

Tassels Belong – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Tassel – RDP Tuesday

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Photo: found on pinterest.com

 

Tassels Belong

Tassels belong to an interesting crew,
God asked Moses to make him a few,
and the Rabbis wear them at Sabbath I know,
while the priest ends their stole with a serious row,
academics do like them a lot,
the dress makers too,
but seriously though
there’s one who needs them most
for without them
she’d be starkers of course,
and when varicose Barbara
mounts the Friday night stage
she gives them a whirl
right in front of your face,
and despite the velocity
and your willing them off,
they stay fixed
spinning to the left and to the right,
and just when it’s blurry
and your pint’s now gone
so has Barbara
and her tasselled bits.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

29 Comments

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March 19, 2019 · 2:08 pm

Such Adventures – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

What Do You See? Willow Poetry

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Graphic provided by helenevaillant.com of Willow Poetry

 

Such Adventures

Just this once
he’d walked instead of the bus,
his mind a whirl
since, and ungraciously,
clearing out the spare room,
being immediately distracted
by so much past
but especially, most especially,
his temporarily forgotten
dog-eared and yellowed
‘Tales of Worthington’,
of derring-do
and worlds beyond worlds.
He sighed,
such adventures,
as he rounded the corner
into Brink street
past the old familiar
wasteland of the mill,
he felt drawn to have a look
and before he could find a way in,
he was somehow
already overlooking the wall,
as a ladder of no ordinary type
had appeared and swept him up,
and there it was,
Worthington’s Worlds, all majestic
just as he’d imagined,
and, in the next moment,
as he moved forward
he wondered if Mabel would miss him.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

39 Comments

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March 19, 2019 · 3:05 am

The Bold And The Beautiful – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Bold – RDP Monday

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Photo: the guardian.co.uk

 

 

The Bold And The Beautiful

Our lives are so overfull with every possible indulgence,
it’s not that we need to choose anything in a broad sense
but we do like to finesse the provenance
of absolutely everything
in our backyard,
meanwhile,
there are bullets and bombs
that we acquiesced in our silence,
choices we made for the faceless
without consent,
buying their compliance,
while we simply carry on
the burden of our overload,
meanwhile,
did you hear about the kid that stopped the tanks?
Or the woman who shamed the soldiers in the square?
Or the students who put flowers in guns?
Do you know the provenance,
the exact place,
the temp.,
the sugar content,
the weave,
the altitude,
the who,
of the bold and the beautiful?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

27 Comments

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March 18, 2019 · 3:25 pm

My Jesters – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Laugh – Word of the Day

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Photo: australianmuseum.net.au

My Jesters

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ah, ah, ah, ca, ca, ca, hahahahah, rrrrrr,
Slowly I open an eye,
laughter penetrating
as a question arises;
are they laughing at me?
The sun is rising fast,
light coming in around the curtains
but I’m not late.
kookaburras in the gum tree,
laughter infectious,
endorphinal,
HT5 for the soul,
from my jesters who
telegraph a lighter way
to treat life
to laugh into this day,
such a wonderful beginning.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcan.com

45 Comments

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March 18, 2019 · 8:55 am

The Room – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

 

The Room

His torch expelled much of the darkness
and created shadow theatre along the walls,
and I simply followed along
without any real choice
yet content in my not knowing,
besides, had I asked I’m certain
that the answer would be to wait,
and so I did not,
occupying myself by noting my surrounds
should I be forced to retrace;
eventually we drew to a door
and he hammered upon it,
a muffled voice must have invited
because the heavy door opened,
the gatekeeper withdrew
and I was urged to enter
a large room devoid of occupation
with sombre lighting
and a curious thing
a circle marked carefully
in the centre of the floor,
and just two chairs lined
in burgundy velvet upon its edge,
and I determined to absent my mind
from endless prognostication
and attend to my surrounds,
Tarvey was still red
and I knew I could not yet relax,
then, at a moment I cannot quite locate
the room strangely became warmer,
Tarvey began to hum a gentle whine,
and in that moment
a figure began to appear in one of the chairs.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

45 Comments

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