Category Archives: awareness

Then I Remembered – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Astroloma foliosum a small shrub native to a small geographical area east of the Perth CBD , this one found in the Mundy Regional Park along Lesmurdie Brook.

“I have memories – but only a fool stores his past in the future.” David Gerrold

Then I Remembered

I took a photo today of a scene by a brook,
a tubular flower caught the corner of my eye,
I waited patiently for the wind to drop that I 
might faithfully remember this moment, and 
I do, but as each day draws on I notice more 
the details not captured, left outside the frame 
of my mind and dimmed by hours, which makes 
me curious, why do I ponder that which is left out, 
but then I remembered, I cannot contain it all.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Winter’s Expiation – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: segment of Lesmurdie Brook along the cascades and falls, Mundy Regional Park.

“The journey between what you once were and who you are now becoming is where the dance of life really takes place.” Darbara de Angelis

Winter's Expiation

Between the source and its ending
comes the journey unscripted, untold,
though bounded by ancient guides
and rhythms, the journey is its own
making of none foretold or known,
only its own drive to quench the thirst 
of its banks so long withheld before 
pooling in aesthetic delight, having 
been poured out as winter's expiation 
for summer's bold insufficiency
long endued.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Shucker’s Delight – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Prosery, a piece of prose of 144 words, inviting us to use a line from a poem by Zora Neale Hurston which comes from her work ‘How Does it Feel to be Coloured Me’ in ‘World Tomorrow’ (1928)

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Finding Ms. Zora Neale Thurston

Photo: found at thegoodtrade.com

“Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.” Carl Jung

Shucker’s Delight

No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife. I find it occupies me best of all. I’m a shucker from way back and I have my own rhythm and movement, a time honoured practice of holding, inserting, twisting and opening. So simple, every action economical, a form of meditation, I love the concentration, one slip and I might lose a finger – I have wounds to show for every lapse. Wounds where I surrender focus to the searing hurts of humanity. This is no escape, just a respite, a regathering from the morass of pain felt in tones of colour, known in cries for justice, that which bleeds from the despair of prison gates. If I didn’t sharpen this oyster knife I fear the world would possess my emotions and blunt my innocent dance of freedom against power.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

All Rights Reserved ®

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Filed under awareness, Fiction, life, prose, Racism

Otherwise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found at tamykawashington.com

“We overfill our lives, hoping more will make us feel like we are enough.” Ellie Roscher

Otherwise

It's full,
I'm busy,
there's much,
I can't,
not now,
overwhelmed by
waves of everything
overtaking my life
with a depth unexpected,
while yet completely
anticipated, at least in
my mind, on paper, as
the voices of the wise
posited with each sharp
intake of breath, I told 
you so, which seems 
less right in the moment
of I think I can or, why didn't 
you say before you entered
this moment, with a "well I
thought you knew", of course,
but of course I didn't, 
otherwise I would be otherwise,
of course.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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1.5 Degrees – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Hardenbergia, as seen at Kings Park Botanical Gardens, Perth, W.A. in my view all life has intrinsic value.

Note: 1.5 degrees is the base objective for reducing global warming if we are to effect real change that protects small island nations, food and water and health. The 2 degrees allowed by the Paris Agreement is believed by some to be a dangerous game.

“Action relies on courage not hope.” Emily Atkin

1.5 Degrees

What lies before us is entirely possible if we decide to act,
not just to be sustainable but to turn the tide completely
with the courage of collective action without judgement,
for complete ecological restoration in our greenhouse.

Not to be just sustainable but to turn the tide completely,
to find the resolve to move from despair to engagement
for complete ecological restoration in our greenhouse,
steering away from denial manifesting as empty hope.

To find the resolve to move from despair to engagement,
leaping beyond the desire to wrap everything in a bow,
steering away from denial manifesting as empty hope,
and we might be surprised at how simple it was.

Leaping beyond the desire to wrap everything in a bow,
with the courage of collective action without judgement,
and we might be surprised at how simple it was,
what lies before us is entirely possible if we decide to act.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

Note: I was listening to Richard Louv who was a keynote speaker at the recent 'Wild Wonder Nature Journaling Conference' who said (and quoting William McDonough) "What happens to a society that can no longer conjure up images of a beautiful future, not just a sustainable future, you know, William McDonough the designer likes to say, you really want a marriage that's sustainable, don't you want something better than that?"

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Filed under awareness, ecology, environment, nature, Pantoum, poem

Leaving Me Wondering – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: along the beach at Leeuwin.

“The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling.” Lucretius

Leaving Me Wondering

Water loved you wet,
bathing your roughened pain,
revealing your inner smooth,
toned, grain to my careful eyes
of wander along your skin so
warm holding the sun, nestled 
together against the tide of times,
leaving me wondering how you 
knew to be here.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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How Might I? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Kaltukatjara (Docker River) looking towards a section of the Peterman Ranges.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m slowly floating away.” Kasie West

How Might I?

How Might I hold eternity
while my heart is reaching  beyond the 
skies with feelings of feathery float 
never before experienced, as this swirl
of temporal ecstasy has roused empyrean
visions so electric, that just to breathe,
to remain firmly grounded, seems 
impossible so, how might I begin to
hold eternity?


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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When The Handle Turns – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found at wellbetter.com

“These mountains that you are carrying, you were only supposed to climb.” Najwa Zebian

When The Handle Turns

When the handle turns, slowly, tightly
along its coiled, oiled spline, do you
shrink into yourself becoming small,
blaming self, or do you feed the furnace 
of anger and strike out, hoping to feel
better through ironically self-inflicted
wounds or, do you pretend to hold it 
all together, watching your implosion
as you paper over the edifice of your
chaos? Perhaps, if we let it wind, a
diamond will come.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Only Ever – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: sujuphoto pixabay.com

“All real living is meeting.” Martin Buber

Only Ever

What did you notice around you today,
and what stirred within you as you noticed?
Perhaps a deficit occurred, knowing what
was missed between the noticing not 
noticing, but isn't that just part of it all, 
part of the awareness of the whole, of self,
the knowingness of the way we are, the 
way life is, just so, knowing that the 
knowing is incomplete is surely the good
part, we can never know until we know
through other, another, and not just 
ourselves, we are only ever ourselves
in the presence of other, but then, I'm 
sure you noticed that long ago.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Forming – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: looking eastwards to the ridge, Mundy Regional Park.

“You cannot look in a new direction by looking harder in the same direction.” Edward De Bono

Forming

It caught me by surprise,
whipping dust across my face,
forcing me to blink, once, twice,
icy winter wind racing onwards,
oblivious to my discomfort,
changing, then changing again,
crossing over me in spontaneous 
whirls, ruffling my feathers, so
to speak, introducing  the tiniest 
thought, a fleeting beginning,
a niggling doubt that, somehow,
I had stayed on this path too
long, and though I couldn't 
quite see it, there was, forming 
in my mind, another way.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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