Category Archives: bush walking

Wrapping – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: The bark of a Jarrah tree along the Railway Heritage Trail, Mundaring.

“Your personal boundaries protect the inner core of your identity and your right to Choices.” Gerard Manley Hopkins

Wrapping

From my earliest moments of cogito,
the eye of my I, O aye,
I learned to wrap myself against the
cold of an encroaching world and 
the desires of others, while yet 
offering little gaps and holes through
which the mew of you, O true
can slip through.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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To Put Away My Eyes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: one of the many nature reserves around Augusta and the Blackwood River this one has the grand title of No. 8437.

“The earth has music for those who listen.” William Shakespeare

To Put Away My Eyes

To put away my eyes for a moment
and take in the sounds underneath,
to let go the synthesis of shoe and fabric
my internal words so loud and allow the 
trees to soften the noise, making way for 
sounds of life, tinkling water, creaking bows, 
leaves pattering to the ground, birds warbling,
insects buzzing to and fro, all singing into
this moment where meaning is irrelevant but
everything is understood.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Who Wants To Know





Photo: realcontentsrestorationtraining.com

“Genius is that which forces the inertia of humanity to learn.” Henri Bergson

Who Wants To Know

In
inert,
inertia,
what goes on,
and why does it?
What is inside of it,
and does inertia collide 
with apathy on all occasions,
stretching out time and beyond,
past the future of controlled restlessness
avoiding the radical, noting the 
voice that can go on forever
or more sinisterly, that the writer 
judged this person seeking 
to make comatose the population 
under lock and key, so who wants to know 
what it is that needs uncovering 


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights served ®

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Wild, Waiting, Long – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Poetry Form with an invitation to write a Kwansaba – a praise poem of seven lines containing seven words no word exceeding seven letters.

dVerse Poets – Poetry Form – Kwansaba and Blessing

Photo: alfcermed at pixabay.com

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.” Maya Angelou

Wild, Waiting, Long

The morning sets fire to still water
across the scope of my old eyes,
finding cygnets asleep singing me to waken,
to peel back the shell of days,
the kernel of destiny wild, waiting, long
for this moment of refresh to birth
as waves of joy raise my thanks.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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One Long, Glorious Pilgrimage – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Imperial Eagle, Spain, by Barbee Anne, pixabay.com

“The punishment imposed on us for claiming true self can never be worse than th epunishment we impose on ourselves by failing to make that claim.” Parker J. Palmer

One Long, Glorious Pilgrimage

My life began wider than the ocean,
and so vulnerable to the eagle's sight,
soaring in the beauty of life, aiming
for the sun, grappling in the dark of
connection's lack as I wander this 
earth in one, long glorious pilgrimage
of constant diversion, ever seeking to
move away from the magnetic pull
towards narrow ways that strangle
any sense of true self.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Greater Than – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille with an invitation to use the word crown.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Heady is the Poem that Wears a Crown

Photo: Paulls Valley, Mundaring

“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.” Khalil Gibran

Greater Than

If I called you a princess
what would your throne look like,
you are so tall above your peers,
selflessly sheltering all, giving life 
by your breath and wholeness by
your astounding beauty lavished 
on my eyes, your crown greater 
than every trinket jewel.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ® 

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Of Epiphanies – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Dora is guest hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about an experience of an epiphany.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Epiphany In The Time Of Holiday

Photo: Along the trail near Niagara Dam, in this desiccated land nature surprises with beauty arising.

“Every moment an epiphany arrives and cleaves the mountain asunder.” Kim Stanley

Of Epiphanies

Aristotle to Zeno,
this soil so barren and alkaline,
I've passed this way so many times before
expecting that penny so often hoped,
but it creeps along wet window frames,
swirls in day old coffee grinds and grows,
like milkweed among the kale, ever the
wasabi of my busted soul , the inarticulate
joys of birth-pains, collected moments of
masochistic revelation, waiting in dusty
corners, hanging on evacuated spider webs,
invisible until I look up, look down, look in
and connect the dots to me as steps of seeing
the twisted strands of silver shining over me.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Fierce Beauty – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Posery with an invitation to using a line form TS Eliot’s poem ‘The Waste Land.’

dVerse Poets – Prosery – The Waste Land

The line offered and which must be included is: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”

Photo: an example of eremophila taken at Niagara near Kookynie.

“According to ancient mythology, trees link the earth to the sky. In this respect trees link humans to another world.” Richard Allen

Fierce Beauty

The eastern goldfields suffer only the strong or determined living in the extremities across these vast open plains of mostly dry laterite and also quartz, granite and sandstone outcrops populated by shy fauna and rugged flora. The summer is merciless, the winter winds penetrate layers. The rainfall is pitiful, the reason the state government commissioned the grand and ambitious Goldfields Water Supply Scheme in 1896.

When the rains do come they seem to evaporate before they touch the surface soil, and it is a wonder that anything could grow in such a place. Which raises the question, what are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish? Dozens in fact, varieties of eucalyptus, acacia, eremophila, grevillea, and callistemon tenaciously hang on out here where humans wilt. When the sun is fierce, the soil unforgiving, the trees are beautifully fiercer.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Nature Reflecting – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Oak Park, a wetland reserve between Goomalling and Wongan Hills.

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of things.” Henry Miller (Probably riffing on Marcel Proust’s comment)

Nature Reflecting

Nature took a photograph
and held it steady for me to see
how water is contemplative,
reflecting what it sees in its
moments of undistracted, centred, 
stillness, embracing the beauty of
all its surrounds, holding the sacred 
space of song and winter's leafy
bounty, that I might rejoice in the
conversation we subsequently
engaged with deep, silent passion.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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What Do You See – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: section of the scenery along Lesmurdie Falls.

“I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.” Henry David Thoreau

What Do You See? 

What do you see 
behind the moon,
beyond the sun,
under a mountain,
along a stream,
among the trees,
can you see it,
do you see it at all,
hidden clearly as 
nature's call to your 
heart of hearts to go
deeper, ignoring the
obvious and entering
your moment of 
understanding in the 
forest clearing,
can you hear its silence,
its unrestrained acceptance,
the song sung for you
from before the womb of
your consciousness?
Fall, fold into it, feel its breath
as your breath.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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