Category Archives: awareness

March 22, 2023 · 3:47 pm

There Is No Map – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Part of the Sacred Garden Walk at The Monastery, Adelaide.

“Not all those who wander are lost.” J.R.R. Tolkien (The Fellowship of the Ring)

There Is No Map

Lately I've noticed a change,
the streets no longer sign 
themselves as Main, Brown,
or lower whatever,
I hear they're buying in,
taking cover in context,
relatively speaking,
sending a signal
like a boatswain's pipe
squealing names we'd rather forget, 
though we well remember 
those avenues of sadness,
echoing memories of roads
we've all travelled;
deprivation alley,
abuse cul-de-sac,
assault road,
cancer circuit,
failure loop,
death row,
lanes of grief,
the streets of disillusionment,
left or right,
straight ahead,
it makes no difference,
life must be the journey,
there is no map.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon 
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 21, 2023 · 2:05 pm

The Shift – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting the Quadrille with an invitation to write a poem including the word shift or any of its forms.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Shift

“Life is always moving, changing, shifting into its next shape.” Melody Beattie 

The Shift

A little tectonic
or factory floor,
maybe the goal posts,
something gauzy,
packing boxes,
another house
though perhaps not yours,
third gear, down fourth,
deckchairs,
cattle to the top paddock,
hit enter,
blame,
the sun
its shadows,
environmentalism,
a shift in place and time.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 15, 2023 · 3:14 pm

No Temple Or Steeple – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Ingrid is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about place and space.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Place and Space

Photo: State Forest at Kirrup

“Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.” Gary Snyder

No Temple Or Steeple

What place
would capture my heart,
make me take off my shoes
and in silence commune?

No temple or steeple 
has ever,
nor memorial,
though all speak in hallowed ways.

Instead I go where the air moves,
where the sun and moon speak,
while the bed I walk upon never sleeps,
and the breeze whispers its translation 
through leaves of understanding.

Here I rejoice in the chorale 
of feathered song,
the trilling brook, and
even granite's imposing, stony silence.

It is here I take off my shoes,
speak in a language of soul,
feel this place deeply
as Lovers are wont to do.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 13, 2023 · 1:58 pm

Nonetheless – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“In violence we forget who we are.” Mary McCarthy

Nonetheless 

What is this yin yang love hate thing?
I wanted your love,
needed your love
to be sure of things.
I remember your hands
holding me in a 
safety net of strength that
helped me to see the world
through paddling,
dodgem cars,
coconut shies,
train-spotting,
rambling,
gardening.
I remember the strength of your hands
connecting with my body,
the pain,
the uncertainty.
I remember you striking her
and collapsing my world
that you had helped me to build.
I remember your hands
striking at the world
in fistfuls of frustration,
a never resting anger
thrown at everyone.
I hated your violence,
my mind tells me how it was,
but my heart has never caught up
with the pain of loving you
nonetheless.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 12, 2023 · 1:28 pm

I know – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“It is a choice. no matter how frustrating or boring or constraining or painful or oppressive our experience, we can always choose how we respond.” Edith Egar

I know

I'm still confused,
all over the place
on days when emotions swirl,
chop and change,
wondering
what if,
if only I'd,
but that can never be,
and knowing that
doesn't end the confusion
and sometimes,
this is, 
oddly,
so sublime,
sweet,
as feelings can be.
I may choose to stay with it,
or distract myself,
whatever I do
I know it will soon return,
the trigger remains indelible,
and so I play
whichever way
I choose.



Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
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March 9, 2023 · 1:27 pm

Then And Now – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: motionarray.com

“Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.” Lionel Hampton

Then And Now

I knelt
under the washing line
in meditation
plucking sun burned weeds
from cracks.

Overhead the washing
flicked,
crisp,
cracked
in the breeze.

Then 
I was running,
through familiar grass
with summer in my hair,
and hope in my heart.

Now
I return,
walking towards the day
with autumn on my face,
and hope ever in my heart.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 8, 2023 · 3:47 pm

Today I Set Aside My Sensible Shoes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about play.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Playtime

Image by Hands off my tags! Michael Gaida from Pixabay

“Every path hath a puddle.” George Herbert

Today I Set Aside My Sensible Shoes

Intrusive clouds
collected
in the hollows,
dull grey puddles,
reminders of
stepping over,
stepping around,
onwards,
the weight on my wrist
ever calling,
but,
today
I set aside
my sensible shoes
for a splash or two,
recalling laughter,
reclaiming joy 
between my toes.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 6, 2023 · 2:22 pm

Taut-ology – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pngplay.com

“If you think negatively, its hard to get out of tense moments.” Caroline Wozniacki

Taut-ology

Such a small detail,
the collar of her blouse
out of kilter,
accentuating the almost
imperceptible tightening of her jaw,
so too her constantly rippling fingers
softly moving in a syncopation of
tension in her taut responses,
delivered in short, staccato bursts,
her teeth all steel.
I left the meeting rubbing my neck,
seeking respite.



Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 3, 2023 · 3:20 pm

To Minna – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Open Link Night – the night we choose a poem to post. Lillian has dedicated this OLN to the late Glen Butkus a friend of many at dVerse. If you knew, or even if you didn’t know Glen, there is more information about his work, some examples of his poetry and a link to his work when you follow the link below.

dVerse Poets – OLN – An OLN Memoriam to Glenn Butkus

“Dying is an art, like everything else.” Sylvia Plath

To Minna

I gather that this may well
be our last correspondence,
I'm sorry to leaden this moment
with such a feel of finality,
but you have been so free to say
(which is true of you)
that you are on your way,
and you have been telling us all
for quite some time now,
that this moment would arrive,
sooner than we'd like and 
probably when we're all in the 
middle of something busy,
and here it is,
and here you are,
and there you will be.

Godspeed my Dear Friend,
Until ....



Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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March 2, 2023 · 3:06 pm

In Her Quiet Way – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Day after day, ordinary people become heroes through extraordinary and selfless actions.” Sylvia Matthews Burwell

In Her Quiet Way

Things are not always evident on face value,
never judge a book by its cover they say,
she was no different in her quite way,
some would say she merely had a walk on part,
that her life was lived in a deep pocket,
but that would be an assumption,
her name alone held up walls,
even the sky, 
and, like Moses 
she parted water for a generation
in need of escape,
while her words pushed up floors
as she intoned the reality around her,
naming the evils so closely held
by those who lauded themselves
and ruled her world.



Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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