Category Archives: bush walking

How Is Your Path? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: a familiar path for me, the River Walk along the Hardy Inlet, Augusta.

“So at the end of this day, we give thanks for being betrothed to the unknown.” John O’Donohue

How Is Your Path?

How is your path,
are you creating a path or
are you simply following one?
Do you know where it goes or 
are you content to wander and see, 
allowing your curiosity to draw your 
attention to corners, deviations, 
the mysteries of the way?

Is there any hurry or are you content
to wait and ponder, rest and recollect,
allowing feeling to speak to you?
Do you you know how to go along
your way accepting the joy and the 
sorrow in unequal portions that is 
the journey we are invited to take?
How is your path?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Life, Death, Life – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: one of many trails I walk in the Beelu Forest, Mundaring.

“Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.” Elizabeth Lawrence

Life, Death, Life

Did you notice the first leaf fading,
did you feel its dry, necrous, flesh,
and did you see it fall so gently to
the warm bosom of the earth
who drew it tenderly into herself,
knowing that their embrace would
bring life in a mysterious unfolding.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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Are We Listening? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: from spring 2018, Leda Nature Reserve, Everlastings in full bloom. (One or two rains and the bush comes alive)

“The forest makes your heart gentle, You become one with it … No place for greed or anger there.” Pha Pachak

Are We Listening?

Do winds come to die, or the 
ocean exhaust itself upon the shore,
are trees silent before the storms of
humanity, does grass wither?
You might think it if you took no time 
to stop and listen, for trees speak in
silences and grass always regenerates,
while oceans shout in their return,
winds take time to rest and even the
soil speaks if we would but listen.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Unspeakable – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting the Quadrille (44 words)with an invitation to write a poem using some form of the word season.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Tis The Season

Photo: Early autumn in Deepdene, red gums shedding.

“Autumn is as joyful and sweet as an untimely end.” Remy de Gourmont

Unspeakable

The seeds of my tangled life are sown 
along the edge of autumn's invitation,
a propitiation for all that is yet to arise,
an imaginarium of coloured experiences
only the sense can speak, a whelming
of the darkened cave transcended in
spring's awaited consolation.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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No Bluff On The Knoll – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write inspired by Hanshan (Cold Mountain) the mystical figure of Chinese poetry (9th C) – option 1 to write about a mountain experience real or metaphorical, or 2 to follow the experience of Hanshan. For more detail, follow the link below.

dVerse Poets – Haibun Monday – Cold Mountain

Photo: The summit of Bluff Knoll, 1,100 metres shrouded that day in mist (cold and misty at the top, autumnal and warm rainy middle, summer at the bottom).

“My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing.” Aldous Huxley

No Bluff On The Knoll

It wasn't sudden by any means. Autumn was giving leave of senses and we decided, he and I, to create a moment, an event in our lives that mattered in the cool of that meaningful April, when summer was on the run and winter was leaving hints everywhere in our path. We decided on Bluff Knoll, a small but determined mount worthy of a days climb that would fracture our patterned minds, opening us to something new.

We watched each other for signs of something, I don't really know what. But I know he gave of his youth and I surrendered my pretences , he not judging, me simply admitting my limitations and grateful for his patience as I aged along the way. The physical exertion so demanding we were not inclined to talk much, but in the valley of debrief there was deep gratitude. If there is a god, they were in our unspoken, heartfelt glances divine. It was enough.

Before us the knoll
ever the old ways we know
autumn brings new eyes



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Filed under awareness, bush walking, camping, Haibun, Haiku, life, Mountaineering, quote

My True North Star – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: from tripandtrail.com

“Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one’s courage.”

My True North Star

I let go the backpack,
even though it contained
so many essential items
for such a long walk,
I only took the water,
not the tent or clothing,
not even the compass 
or map, nothing I would
normally take, need, or 
rely on, these I left knowing
that you are my true
north star, my guide on 
this trail of life.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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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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Filed under awareness, bush walking, Free Verse, Kwansaba, life, nature, passion, poem, quote, Septastich