Category Archives: bush walking

Travelling In The Wilderness – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, Sarah is hosting Poetics and has asked us to choose one of her selected titles for a poem.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Travels in the Wild

Photo: Eyre Highway, a side trail.

“The wilderness holds answers to more questions than we have yet learned to ask.” Nancy Newhall

Travelling In The Wilderness 

I transcended my compass,
feeling my way through the travail
of twixt and twain, learning not to 
hold my breath as the trail became
uncertain of itself as it meandered 
through the scenes and acts of my
stage as a collect of vagaries, testimony
to an amorphous life melded with 
lace wings and stringy-bark, and all
manner of slivery, silent coves as
irruption of mind in a mindless world
of discontinued annals, such is the way
of this wilderness road of discovery.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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To Feel Again – a Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Kim is hosting Haibun Monday, inviting us to to write about our sense of wonder. dVerse Poets – Haibun Monday

Photo: Grass Tree (Xanthorrhoea), State forest, Mundaring.

“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.” John Burroughs

To Feel Again

Here in this place there is a sense of hope. To feel nature making her own way with a lush offering is a sensual privilege, to see to touch, to feel, to taste. The divinest of lovers. She is there, waiting, unmarried, mistress to no one. Waiting for all to come and sit alongside her charming soothe.

There is life in this place like no other. Even in that rotting humous, especially there, there is an abundance of life bursting before my eyes. Even in the dry rustling carpet, tenants and squatters alike come to feast, to produce life and to surrender it.

This is a place to be, just that, to be, to feel again, to be me, to be one of, one with, this crowd. Here I can connect, be grounded once more.

Where the grass tree grows
comes spring looking at me
I fly like feathers

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Beyond – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: State Forest, Mundaring.

“If you go into a far, far forest and get very quiet, you’ll come to understand that you’re connected with everything.” Alan Watts

Beyond

The forest edges to newness and I want to 
run into it, roll, sit, walk stand in it,
embody the quiet growth as the dry 
relinquishes to life renewed, breathing
after breath too long held, to fill my 
senses to an ecstasy beyond the big O
as every sound, smell and sensation
rushes through my desiccated soul,
till finally, overcome, I want to sleep
with her silence.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under awareness, bush walking, Forest, Free Verse, life, passion, poem, quote, relationship, seasons

Emerging – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about November, which in the north is Autumn while in the south is Spring.

dVerse Poets – Poetics

Photo: ‘Southbourne’ farm, Bakers Hill, the drive to the shearing shed.

“Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?” Neltje Blanchan

Emerging

Velvet cinnamon nights,
swirl-tongued around feelings
twined with gilt laden stubble
in halo vested fields where
warmth seeps into my bones,
restoring the ravages of winter's
scars once again, nested with 
feathered joy and such vaulted
awakening as if chrysalis like,
taking first breaths in a new
scape novembered almost, 
but not quite as before,
emerging adventitiously 
as no other.


©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Silently – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Phot o: pixabay.com

“Whispers are often thunderous.” Richard Smyth

Silently

You silently sang those words of whisper
that coursed the stars and penetrated my
heart with such a gentle violence of love
that disordered my clever words with a
liminal combustion, sparking a new
direction beyond the order of my chaos
and by which I am now composed of 
questions that stir my very essence.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Present – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Ormiston Gorge, NT

“From out of all the many particulars comes oneness, and out of oneness comes all the many particulars.” Heraclitus

Present

I sat in paradox and
watched my consolations
wash through me as water
runs through fingers in a 
nothingness of interiority,
a mystical, infused experience
that left me lighter and present
to myself in the lee of my desire
that once dark cloud now
dispersed.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Letting Go – poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Creek in Mundaring

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.” Lao Tzu

Letting Go

I sat quietly by the creek,
lost in the meaningless meaning
of rushing water and found
myself in the moment of a
nothingness of doing and
time disappeared to irrelevance
where everything mattered and
nothing at all mattered much to me,
and when I rose I knew I could leave
that part of me that was always why.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Off The Rails – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – What A sight

Photo: Old rail line near Bonnie Rock

“Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence.” Lin Yutang

Off The Rails

What a sight this happenchance,
no more the corporate sea of
smoke and steam or voices echoing 
through this once vale of life in
this distant place of hardships
now erased as nature grips the
demons of steel by the throat,
all the while laughing at the thought
of progress in a place so fragile
where life so quickly goes
off the rails.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Fleeting – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.” Walt Whitman

Fleeting

It happened,
as I once noticed
while traversing a 
field or two or so,
that grass was fleeting,
it came and went
so momentary was 
this simple blanket
of springs joy,
its gloss soon enough
a desicated paper,
and in its brief passage,
there I stood. 

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Less Carefully – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: a road through the nature reserve Talgomine, near Nukarni.

“We meet ourselves time and again in a thousand disguises on the path of life.” Carl Jung

Less Carefully 

The soul of language
speaks my path into being as
I stand in my innermost self
seeking an image, words,
that I might transcend my
bolstered corner, that thwart
of life layered deeply,
that I might walk it
less carefully,
more with fiery blaze.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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