Shooting The Breeze – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics and exploring the poetic genre looking at the verse epistle.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Verse Epistle

Photo: found at businessinsider.com.au

“Once wealth and beauty are gone, there is always rural life.” Mason Cooley

Shooting The Breeze

Dear Jacko, it's been a while,
I do hope you and yours are well,
still fencing out dingoes I suppose,
last we spoke the windmill was like
the townies here, lost its bearings,
and fallen beyond the pale,
I wish I was out there with you,
chasing roos and watching twenty-eights,
eating wild plums and swimming at the 
water hole, instead I'm stuck here,
it's gone to shit what with all the
rules and vacuous fools, galahs, who 
run the place, oily bastards who bleed that
old disease of privilege built on plastic 
lies and unicorns, like we're entering
the promised land, but all we have is
alarm clocks, deadlines and rising costs
strewn down the asphalt of insane hope,
lost in the cobwebs of my mind. I'd love to 
go on a bit more but I must go mate,
I'll let you know when we're coming,
just so you can lock up the .22, I might
well cock the hammer and shoot the 
plasma screen. I can hear you laughing,
"Silly bugger", let's shoot the breeze
instead and, of course, some beers.
Well mate, must go, that's stirred me 
up no end.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

34 Comments

Filed under Country, Farm, Free Verse, life, poem, quote, Verse Epistle

34 responses to “Shooting The Breeze – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

  1. True picture of the Mind of a Real Friend!
    Nice and Frank!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Love it and perfect title!

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Very cleverly written post, Paul.

    Liked by 4 people

  4. Is this about Meghan and Harry?

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Lovely perfect! Thank you for sharing so true thoughts, Paul! Enjoy the week, and excuse my late revisit. Michael

    Liked by 4 people

  6. A true friend you share a beer with.

    Liked by 3 people

  7. sanaarizvi

    This is absolutely stellar writing, Paul! 💝 I love the tone and pacing here especially; “that old disease of privilege built on plastic lies and unicorns, like we’re entering the promised land, but all we have is alarm clocks, deadlines and rising costs strewn down the asphalt of insane hope.” Thank you so much for writing to the prompt. 💝

    Liked by 3 people

  8. This is Wonderful! My fave pick is “the asphalt of insane hope”…so much in these words…I’m thinking of falls on asphalt, how they sting, abrade the flesh, bleed at least a bit–and it can be the same, falling on insane hope (delayed, denied, reneged).

    Liked by 3 people

  9. I loved this poem … and I can relate. I wish I had a friend on a deserted island who would invite me for an extended visit … no phone, no internet, no cable … just peace.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Enjoyed the descriptions, especially these lines :-
    “alarm clocks, deadlines and rising costs
    strewn down the asphalt of insane hope,”

    Liked by 2 people

  11. I enjoyed your epistolary poem. It sounds like a visit with Jacko would do the speaker good. (I love the bit about shooting the breeze instead of the plasma screen.)

    Liked by 2 people

  12. Amy

    Yeah, there is always rural life. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  13. Charis Counselling

    What a great poem – made me smile and took me back to our outback home

    >

    Liked by 1 person

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