“There is no nobility with bad manners.” Ali ibn Abi Talib
Loud He spoke loudly like a thunderstorm, he always spoke loudly, everything about him shouted, he consumed his habitation with absolute, unbridled gusto, the way he dressed and moved, the way he chewed and talked simultaneously revolting the room, oblivious to the polite, unaware of eyebrows raised in his dubious honour, he ploughed on untouched, his hunger growing louder. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under Free Verse, life, poem, quote
“Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone.” Lord Byron
For One Brief Glimpse The ambered silence of sun's departure a most glorious death the colour of woven meditation rising from the russet humus of solitude's joyful farewell, life's tributary offering pause for breath along the plane of letting-go the bubble and babble of fakery, prostituting the real for one brief glimpse of an unmemed self. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under Free Verse, life, meditation, mindfulness, passion, poem, quote
“If you wait for perfect conditions, you’ll never get anything done.” (Unknown)
My Question I think there's a question lingering in the back of my labyrinth circling round, touching me carelessly with waves of emotion, four seasons in one day, although winter persists in stealing spring's energy, grasping at warmth with cold, that old familiar habit not lost on me in a world of futile striving, and my question forms, can I let go of my winter soul? Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under awareness, Free Verse, life, poem, quote
“Halloween is a celebration of the inversion of reality and a necessary Gothic hat-tip to the darker aspects of life, death and ourselves.” Stewart Stafford
The Light Of Darkness Shines The club-foot dragging march of time chases me past the lifeless stone inscriptions of dated, stumbled meaning, affronting my sense of ordered steps, slough wasted feet hold me back fast to the thin path between trod worlds, a halo of the darkly rising unreal. The club-foot dragging march of time awakens me to the light of darkness, a shining mantle of bone-dry feeling in a river of emptiness before me, darkening visage of truth bent stories, weighted sore on my night-scape soul, ever the stir of breath unseen on my neck. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under Duodora, Free Verse, Gothic, poem, quote
At dVerse Lisa is hosting poetics with an invitation to write about an irritating human trait and an extra challenge to try writing a duodora form.
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Halloweeny Humans
“The gaze that sees is the gaze that dominates.” Michel Foucault
Smug Orbs He wore saucers upon his face like some weird, bug-eyed alien with bobbled stalks, moving in grand comic waves of distraction, pretending not to see that, indeed I could clearly see that he was searching my moral failings. He wore saucers upon his face, those bulging smug orbs of judgement thrust against me like long, sticky blades of spite steeped in bitter misunderstanding, lost in fragmented distortions of not seeing what he is seeing. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under Duodora, Free Verse, life, poem, quote
At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about something fear.
“Samhain is a good time to celebrate the lives of all wise elders ….” Caitlin Matthews
All The Souls Shall Stir The beady owl cries a deep hoo from the dry papered tree for the sake of the covered bones whispering below my feet, while mossy headstones pull me from my gait to their thrall. Iron spears line the way, rusted as bloody. Tentacles of ivy grab at my heels, as the witching hour creeps in when all the souls shall stir about me and merrily dance around my urgency. I pass by the gatekeeper's house and sense his gaze upon my back, not a candle to be seen. Along the shadowed road I see a hearse, its horses lathered in sweat, but as I turn and look again it has vanished along the icy breeze. If I run it will be too soon and give the game away. I close the door behind me. Tomorrow I shall walk the dead again, but not as tonight, tonight the past lives. Autumn bares trees cherry blossom memories crane flies over me Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Note: in Japanese culture it is said that the crane (Tsuru) is symbolic of longevity and good fortune.
“One can be the master of what one does, but never of what one feels.” Gustave Flaubert
The Breaking Wave Standing on the shore of feeling, watching the horizon, waiting, being engulfed, thrust beyond in swirls of murky images, thrown beyond the foaming crest into the boiling current of deep inner turmoil, full of dangerous rips along jagged coral memories, finally resurfacing in the calm of the breaking wave. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
“Forever is composed of nows.” Emily Dickinson
Which Is All There Is When the present is all there is, what does it mean to be fully present, or do you sneak off in to the melancholy of the greying past, or do you inhabit the anxiety of tomorrows never arrived, rather than allowing yourself to be pulled into this moment, which is all there is? Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under Country, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, poem, quote
“Don’t compromise yourself – you’re all you have.” John Grisham
Like A Version I'm not sure where to start, looking, always looking, for something beyond the in-between, that place where nothing is familiar, where risk rises, even for a moment, until curiosity calls me to let go and play at new versions of me in those unknown spaces, where nothing is certain, only versions of me. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under Uncategorized
“We may define therapy as a search for value.” Abraham Maslow
The Baggage Handler I paid her for the letting go, those harboured thoughts pushed down, now surfacing again. She listened from her somber chair to my every grief, her silent compassion a soft incise carefully drawn. My many wounds released, those neatly folded feelings that have travelled long within me, she drew my truest sense of self. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under awareness, Free Verse, life, poetry, psychology, quote
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Judaism, work, life, poetry, etc. Not code for "single and looking". This is not a dating blog.
Facets of Life- Poetry, Writing, Literature, and Philosophy
Embracing imperfection with faith, flannel, & fresh air
Creativity meeting intrinsic memories
A community page for those inspired by nature.
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
Relax! Let your eyes wander and quiet your mind with some visual therapy. A picture is always more than you can see. You will also find my own illustrations, animations and sometimes short stories. You never know what you will find so make sure to come back.
The Voice of Reclamation
"أملك من الذكاء ما يكفي لتدمير حياتي بنفسي"
Sharing the heart of our community
Judaism, work, life, poetry, etc. Not code for "single and looking". This is not a dating blog.
Facets of Life- Poetry, Writing, Literature, and Philosophy
Embracing imperfection with faith, flannel, & fresh air
Creativity meeting intrinsic memories
A community page for those inspired by nature.
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
Relax! Let your eyes wander and quiet your mind with some visual therapy. A picture is always more than you can see. You will also find my own illustrations, animations and sometimes short stories. You never know what you will find so make sure to come back.
The Voice of Reclamation
"أملك من الذكاء ما يكفي لتدمير حياتي بنفسي"
Sharing the heart of our community
parallax 