Monthly Archives: November 2020

November 30, 2020 · 3:32 pm

We’d Catch Fire – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: everydayhealth.com

“Your worst battle is between what you know and what you feel.” Alex Haditaghi 

We'd Catch Fire

As darkness lights the way
we feel through shattered moments 
to a truth that only comes from a 
gut-felt savvy, an innocent insolence
of present mood over mind that
matters in knowing connections
so deep, transcending the rational,
suspending the ignorance of cheap 
common sense that we might just
rise above the cold data and create
sparks of world so alive to each 
other, we'd catch fire.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 27, 2020 · 3:47 pm

Before The Turning – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: have-fun.wikia.com

“She was like the moon – part of her was always hidden away.” Dia Reeves

Before The Turning

Spring's last reversion,
a chemise for moon
before the turning of
summer's bold tune,
an unbuttoned salute
to epicurean dulges
promenading along
our damp, warm skin,
in the misted mystery
of this omened night,
awaiting declarations
of yes, yes, along our 
avenue of sheets.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 26, 2020 · 3:00 pm

Her Phone Call – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – The Phone Call

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“One phone call, that’s all it took.” Pierce Brosnan

Her Phone Call

Strange how the phone call chose me,
her voice was velvet chocolate,
so sweet and smooth like warm desire
that shivered down my spine.

Her voice was velvet chocolate
spooned on a warm summer's night,
so sweet and smooth like warm desire
transporting me to unknown ecstasies.

Spooned on a warm summer's night
we entwined in the delight of love,
transporting me to unknown ecstasies
higher than the highest heaven.

We entwined in the delight of love,
so sweet and smooth like warm desire,
higher than the highest heaven,
strange how her phone call chose me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 25, 2020 · 2:44 pm

Sighing – a poem in pleiades form by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to the Pleiades Form – seven lines of seven syllables, each line beginning with the first letter of the title which must be one word. dVerse Poets – Poetics – Stars That Count

Image: wallpapercave.com – Pleiades

“The Pleiades are there winking at me.” Ted Simon

Sighing

Seven being perfection,
spiritual without doubt,
sisters floating like lovers
sighing eternal yearns
stargazing dreams like voyeurs,
star dusting talis dreams of
spacious, luscious liminance.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 24, 2020 · 4:06 pm

To Feel Again – a Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Kim is hosting Haibun Monday, inviting us to to write about our sense of wonder. dVerse Poets – Haibun Monday

Photo: Grass Tree (Xanthorrhoea), State forest, Mundaring.

“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.” John Burroughs

To Feel Again

Here in this place there is a sense of hope. To feel nature making her own way with a lush offering is a sensual privilege, to see to touch, to feel, to taste. The divinest of lovers. She is there, waiting, unmarried, mistress to no one. Waiting for all to come and sit alongside her charming soothe.

There is life in this place like no other. Even in that rotting humous, especially there, there is an abundance of life bursting before my eyes. Even in the dry rustling carpet, tenants and squatters alike come to feast, to produce life and to surrender it.

This is a place to be, just that, to be, to feel again, to be me, to be one of, one with, this crowd. Here I can connect, be grounded once more.

Where the grass tree grows
comes spring looking at me
I fly like feathers

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 23, 2020 · 3:24 pm

Beyond – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: State Forest, Mundaring.

“If you go into a far, far forest and get very quiet, you’ll come to understand that you’re connected with everything.” Alan Watts

Beyond

The forest edges to newness and I want to 
run into it, roll, sit, walk stand in it,
embody the quiet growth as the dry 
relinquishes to life renewed, breathing
after breath too long held, to fill my 
senses to an ecstasy beyond the big O
as every sound, smell and sensation
rushes through my desiccated soul,
till finally, overcome, I want to sleep
with her silence.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 22, 2020 · 2:44 pm

Those Lips – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: snappypixels.com

“Language is wine upon the lips.” Virginia Woolf 

Those Lips

She was well dictioned,
forming plummy,
always an O,
showing her 
xylophone 
framed so red,
but after five,
without words,
she spoke a very 
different language 
that blushed me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 20, 2020 · 2:43 pm

The Eve – Haiku by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Meet The Bar and inviting us to write a death poem, Jisei – Haikai, Haiku, Tanka, Senryu, etc.

dVerse Poets – Meet The Bar – Jisei

Image: pixabay.com

“There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.” Beverly Sills

The koi are less lived
in my lotus dreams of night
the eve I long for

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 19, 2020 · 3:26 pm

Hung By Threads – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Intimacy

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“Real intimacy is a sacred experience.” John O’Donohue

Hung By Threads

We were sleek gazelles 
caught in the moment of spring,
drawn to sup the youthfulness
of our open, tender flesh,
mirrored in our eyes of lusted,
dilated caresses, dishevelled
electric pulses flushed on skin,
opening us to summered days
of trusted space and listened
moments so raw that we hung
by threads of breathless knowing
unborn of reason, and the once 
moist latch now open to the 
treasured feltness of heart,
bonded as healed wounds,
and vested in renewed seeing 
that we dared to share as we 
grazed the plains of intimacy
unafraid of lions.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 18, 2020 · 2:23 pm

Held – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics and has invited us to write about eyes.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Look Into My Eyes

Photo: pexels.com

“Tears are the silent language of grief.” Voltaire

Held

I offered a word of unction as
soothe in the hard litany of life's
steal of breath that you held in
that moment of discordant caverns
and clawed violins as the world 
slipped over its own edge,
and your eyes declared a pulsing
reach of heart that awakened
in a welling of bearing held
between us in a knowing,
sharing, through solitary to a
lifting connect, diminishing the
awful theft of happiness, 
a restorative without need of 
voice, just deep eye-felt
conversation.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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