Sometimes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Pezibear at

“Life is rather like a tin of sardines – we’re all of us looking for the key.” Alan Bennett


Sometimes there are moments when the world 
seems to shake and tilt, like when you open that
cupboard down in the back room, the one which 
hasn't been opened for a hundred years, an
exaggeration worthy of its own merit, for a 
long time nonetheless, and typically in the back
corner of the second shelf, it's always the second 
shelf isn't it? the place where the faded, desiccated, 
shoe box is lodged.

And you cannot resist opening it to see what 
treasures have been forgotten. Various tiny kitsch,
some paper mementos,  a plastic thing, some coins
and a cable from some long deceased device among
others, and suddenly a door in the memory opens,
albeit a rosy one, perhaps, and you wander down 
that lane recalling how each item is vested in your

In the end you realise that each item forms a 
collective whole, a key, not only to the past, 
but also to the future, the door being the fluid 
moment, the threshold of choices, if we but
free ourselves to choose, to let the key lead 
us to transformation rather than remaining in
romanticised memories which leads me to 
say that sometimes the past is best left in a 
box on the second shelf.  

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 


Filed under awareness, Free Verse, life, poem, quote

18 responses to “Sometimes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

  1. Very thought provoking, as we are always open for a surprise. 😉 Thanks for sharing, Paul! Have a nice Christmas Week! xx Michael

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Amy

    … a key, not only to the past, but also to the future, very well said.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I love the use of metaphor in this one, both concrete and thought-provoking.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. But, Paul, I like remaining in my romanticised memeories…sometimes!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. It seems to me that this poem expresses the idea that each time we recall a memory, we are in a different place than when we last experienced the memory, so the memory itself changes by remembering. Hope I am not way off base on this one. That’s what I read into your lovely poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. lync56

    Beautiful and so true – well written and crafted



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