dVerse – Poetics – Temperature
Photo: pxhere.com
“Licence my roving hands …” John Donne
Where paths lead,
the abiding question
niggling at my core,
river bend
or river pool stroll
and so it was,
waterhens idled
and the water was velvet
under the spell of lilies
those sirens of fertility,
and there she was
nymph arising,
my mantra
lead me not …,
failing,
bursting into flames as
her eyes called.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under bush walking, Country, Free Verse, love, poem, romance
Photo: sheknows.com
“Anyone could see that this woman is living a nightmare. Except that she goes through her daily life wide awake, knowing that she could make a mistake at any moment” Nuria Ano
She busied herself with
plain, economical movements,
not one could tell of her inner fear
cept for the frown of concentration,
wiping the dust of accusation
he would make were it still there
when he came home,
the sheen of polish protected her
bringing assurances of another
day without trauma,
the clean floors gave her confidence
and dinner already prepared
was her salvation,
to fail was to court danger,
his hands were like club hammers,
so big and matching his growing rage,
causing her universe to fold,
somewhere inside she was still there
but she couldn’t see a future
and so she busied herself for peace.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, poem, relationship
dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Freckle
Photo: wallhere.com
He’d dated,
of course he had,
and there’d been plenty of fun,
but he was smitten with Red
who was veiled in fire and
painted with freckled star-scapes,
whose hororscope said
confetti could shower you today,
a serious young woman
whose eyes were smiling.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, Quadrille, relationship, romance
Photo: media.timeout.com
Sodom,
that wizened old vigneron
with such mischievous eyes,
produced an overflow of
vintage hedonism,
a beautiful shiraz
that so pleased the circus
we drank long and deep
becoming a malaise of pleasure,
completely lost in ourselves,
forgetting our very humanity,
gorging on angels
desiring more,
taking our fill of everything,
caring for no one,
dulled,
blurred,
blended
to a nothing.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, poem
Photo: Bunbury Wetlands reflection on the water below the pedestrian footbridge.
“We had the experience but missed the meaning.” T.S. Eliot
Below the ripples of my inner pool
lies my self unseen
who collects moments of importance,
things experienced and things known
for a rainy day,
days when shadow comes out to play
needing a friend,
wanting to talk,
hoping for some direction,
and as I inwardly
hear movements in this deep,
I begin to see a way
to recollect and reconcile,
teasing a way forward
within myself.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com.
Filed under Free Verse, life, meditation, mindfulness, poem, self-development, Uluru 17
Photo: shutterstock.com
Her wreckage huddled alone
awaiting transfusions of love,
older now in this moment
her years undone by a
burden so great
she cannot focus,
life blurring at her center,
frittering and fraying,
the thread of her meaning
unravelling before her,
unable to hold it
fearing soon she will
disappear from all view.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, grief, life, poem, relationship
Photo: hauspa.com
So relaxed
comes the anticipated moment
lulled by whale song
now languorous,
the pleasure of flesh on flesh,
a sensual conversation and
who knows its beginning or end,
the two now connected as
her supple hands,
a baroque composition
gliding his meridians
reading his body
responding with verbs,
uncoil his ravaged tension
releasing him to life.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, poem
Photo: theodysseyonline.com
Down to the club in a charabanc
only to discover democracy of a bent,
open mic night or improv they said
that’s just how it is everyday I replied,
life is an improv.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under challenge, Five Lines, Free Verse, life, poem
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Movement
Video: Another short video of the top end of Margaret River where it crosses a road.
Somnambulant gyrovagues aimless
across the strictures of the brave new world
ever longing for surprise
secretly desiring to be planted
with corner stores and Lucille Balls,
still parched and thirsting for the real,
will sitting make it so?
Is local a virtue that leads to
salvation by mortar?
The normatives of routine beg questions,
the toilet brush and carving knife speak
of uncertainties of future days
as genealogies turn to ash
while news bulletins are chalk to taste,
and all that long road of passion
is that now spent?
Did we climb that ideal hill satisfied at last?
In the rhythms of these labyrinthine days
there is a stillness in movement
a contemplative balance
as my steps rotate the earth.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, labyrinth, life, mindfulness, poem
Photo: pixabay.com
He often sought the solace of the hallway,
to capture views and hold them
ever dreaming escapes
touching the light on the
gleaming window frames
then travelling to worlds yet to be discovered,
one day he was so utterly transported
he was unaware of the passage of time,
and he wakened in a cloister,
the air was welcoming and he
determined to stay as long as possible
feeling drawn to the stillness
and the faint sounds of
plainsong that washed over him,
he’d never known such peace.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul, pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, life, poem, Spirituality
 | thereluctantpoet on The Greater Distance – a… |
 | V.J. Knutson on Making Waffle – a poem b… |
 | pvcann on Making Waffle – a poem b… |
| pvcann on Making Waffle – a poem b… |
| pvcann on Making Waffle – a poem b… |
shift focus, see further, gaze deeper
An open minded author who would put his pen down for anything.
Melodies inspires ataraxia, Beautific as Wysteria.
A place for beautiful messes
Exploring best practice and research in sexual violence. A loud voice in the fight against victim blaming. Written and Managed by Jessica Eaton, Doctoral Researcher in Forensic Psychology
Music Politics Sports
Go Explore
with Peter Sinclair
Under investigation with the SEC?
Random self talk
I was born not knowing and have only little time to change that here and there
i am out with lanterns, looking for myself
sci-fi/fantasy stories
Grief Out Loud. Art. And Life.
The official Website of Peter Wamae
I make photographs and poems to please myself (and share them to please you).
Parenting and more, optimized for Happiness.
Models of narrow gauge railways in O9 and 009, visits to exhibitions and real railways
Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
My insight into Sex, Relationship's, and family! Along with a dabble of short stories and poetry
I love to write about everything. Writing relaxes me.
Personal Blog
A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
shift focus, see further, gaze deeper
An open minded author who would put his pen down for anything.
Melodies inspires ataraxia, Beautific as Wysteria.
A place for beautiful messes
Exploring best practice and research in sexual violence. A loud voice in the fight against victim blaming. Written and Managed by Jessica Eaton, Doctoral Researcher in Forensic Psychology
Music Politics Sports
Go Explore
with Peter Sinclair
Under investigation with the SEC?
Random self talk
I was born not knowing and have only little time to change that here and there
i am out with lanterns, looking for myself
sci-fi/fantasy stories
Grief Out Loud. Art. And Life.
The official Website of Peter Wamae
I make photographs and poems to please myself (and share them to please you).
Parenting and more, optimized for Happiness.
Models of narrow gauge railways in O9 and 009, visits to exhibitions and real railways
