Monthly Archives: June 2021

Joy Lined – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Lesmurdie Brook, Mundy Regional Park

“The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction.” Rachel Carson

Joy Lined

Ten thousand leaves of joy 
lined the avenues of my mind 
as I invented trails off-topic, 
fissures filled with raptures
of stillness in sideways journeys,
along grassy lanes that were far
away from straightened routines
common to days of unseen
wonder; here, now, the simplest
encounters are life-giving pathways.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Where I Cannot – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannot

Video: segment of Lesmurdie Brook in the Mundy Regional Park, early winter flow.


“Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it.” Lao Tzu

Where I Cannot

Redoubtable, the granite holds sway,
forcing me to wend my way transversely, 
finding paths of accomodation unlike

∼ the gentle brook who travels with ease ∽

Casting aside the rock as if butter,
shifting sand and tree alike,
smoothing paths where I cannot.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

Note: The park name Mundy, commemorates a leader of the Beelu Aboriginal people at the time of white settlement, he was one of the most important and successful negotiators for Perth's Whadjuk community.

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Just Wondering – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found at healthjade.net

“Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.” Edward Abbey

Just Wondering

I couldn't help wondering if we are sleepwalking
through long days of dis-ease and discontent,
a clear reflection of our overcomplicated lives,
the carefully unspoken truth of shallow surfaces.

Through long days of dis-ease and discontent
we trudged quagmires of golden ideologies,
the carefully unspoken truth of shallow surfaces,
incapable of revealing any hidden depths.

We trudged quagmires of golden ideologies
weaving tales of laughable inconsequence,
incapable of revealing any hidden depths,
simply the cruel valour of self-deception.

Weaving tales of laughable inconsequence,
a clear reflection of our overcomplicated lives,
simply the cruel valour of self-deception,
I couldn't help wondering if we are sleepwalking.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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The One Shore Thing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: mollusk shells at Skippy Rock, Augusta

“To find a seashell is to discover a world of imagination.” Michelle Held

The One Shore Thing

I cling to rock as
to precarious life,
keeping my balance,
holding the ocean inside,
ever self-sufficient in the
salted tides of existence,
a veteran of wind and wave,
I'm the one shore thing to 
be here in all the tomorrows
of gulls and snapper, carrying
the same four walls I was born 
with, ever expanding, just like 
my sense of the world around 
me, that I'm living in a great
adventure one scrape at a time.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Connection – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Paperbarks (Melaleuca) River Walk, Blackwood River, Augusta.

“To halt the decline of an ecosystem, it is necessary to think like an ecosystem.” Douglas P. Wheeler

Connection

The eye at a distance sees little,
but to be curious, to come closer,
to unfold your tender skin is to smile
as I see the night ant hiding, to be 
surprised as the well disguised moth
seeks escape in a flutter and a
running spider hastens away, always
on the prowl, while nearby, a banksia 
bee hovers quietly, then carefully I 
fold you back and walk on, taking 
you with me, noticing the difference  
in my step, and the wonder that has
captured me.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Close By – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Cape to Cape trail just south of Ellensbrook

“Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary.” Rachel Carson

Close By

I saw you once,
in that far off place of my youth,
where I felt I knew you in my 
mother's shadow by the basilica,
but soon you faded like yellowing
wallpaper in a dark back room,
and then you were gone and I was
unanchored in the storms as I 
searched museums and breviaries,
only to find you close by, hidden
in dragonflies and thistles down
uneven tracks, alongside 
decomposing logs where
wattles breathe gladness.


Copyright 2021 © Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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So I Stood Still – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by yue lu on Unsplash

“Who runs in circles never gets far.” Thornton Burgess

So I Stood Still

The air was so faded, 
absent, but I ran 
and ran in tired circles, 
even then the kite 
had no life in it and 
would not rise upwards,
it wasn't heavy, in fact
quite light, but it would 
not stir its papered joy
for a mere frivol, a 
sacrifice of delight,
and remained firmly
rooted to the ground
so I stood still until
the the air moved the 
kite and my heart sang.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Healing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: a section of jarrah forest post controlled burn in the Beelu National, Park Mundaring.

Since the 2019/2020 national fire disaster debate has focussed on a number of positive possibilities for better fire control, especially Indigenous Cultural Fire methods which are cool fires. One of the beliefs around Cultural Fire is its capacity to be a healing process, much like the North American Indigenous belief that fire is healing.

“Cultural fire means everything. It means healing Country and when you heal Country you heal people.” Wurundjeri Elder – Dave Wandin

Healing

Blackened trunks of last year's controlled burn,
the ravages of heat intense to the sensitive eye,
some have fallen while others are resisting change,

∼ some have survived to show the tale of life ∽

Of fragile, selfless community transforming together,
how green vibrantly shines and wouldn't be the same
without the healing narrative of blackened trunks.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Solsticity – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write about the Solstice – down here being the winter solstice.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Solstice

Photo: another typical south-west winter’s dawning over the Blackwood river.

“People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.” Anton Chekhov

Solsticity 

The illusion of time is etched as chronicles under twelve beautiful pictures, and there is a still-point right in a determined middle. I looked at this point today, of all days, knowing that this is the turning of perpetual rhythm. This is life, a moving in and a moving out, a drawing close and a moving away, a finely reciprocated ritual mirrored exactly as if dancing inward and outward movements. As I reflected on this it appeared in my mind as upward and downward movement, as if ascending and descending stairs, a close representation of Escher's fine works.

I saw the beauty of this rhythm, a meeting of joy and grief, laughter and tears, all things continually ascending and descending in this perpetual dance. And it all hinges on the short middle for a brief moment, passing quickly from descent to expansion once again. I named this rhythm solsticity, an uplift, a rejoicing as life bursts forth from the fount of nature, mirrored in the very heart of my soul, and seen in the fire of my eyes.

the quiet darkness
nothing moves in this middle
a solstice blossoms



Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Where The Water Caught Fire – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: section of the Cape to Cape Walk, Mokidup.

“The learned who can explain the meaning of truth are not found everywhere.” Nagarjuna

Where The Water Caught Fire

The one way,
where dual binaries easily slip away
unnoticed by the focussed heart,
who looks for the now of now,
an ecstasy of the soft underfoot,
the heathed path shadowed by 
clouded greys above my thoughts
of encompassing all that is,
because it is, and embody the 
feelings that wash over me as
words choke and desire wants to
shout in this moment of encounter
at this still point of interdependence,
in the very place where the water 
caught fire and I became.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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