Category Archives: carefree

March 17, 2021 · 5:35 am

Unframed – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Kim is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem using the verse “This being human is …” from a poem by Rumi and to use it as the first line or start.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – The Art of Being Human

Photo: found at lolwot.com

“I have fallen in love with the imagination. And if you fall in love with the imagination, you understand that it is a free spirit. It will go anywhere, and it can do anything.” Alice Walker

Unframed

This being human is more shades than pastels,
though one should never deny the textures or
even the subtlety of brush strokes that paint 
us into surprising vignettes in the corners of
the broader canvas, woven together with gesso
and primaries, themes, and understated meanings
that form a palette of feelings rising through
bold statements and the wash of background time,
but one thing I'd leave off is the frame, this 
being human is paradoxical and bears no frame 
at all in an unframed abstract life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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March 8, 2021 · 12:00 pm

Savouring – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: The Hardy Inlet, Augusta.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” Jacques Cousteau 

Savouring

The water slowly, gently,
washes over my feet,
more of a splish than splash
from the lazy tide departing
the quiet of the inlet for the sea,
its bubbles and froth blinking
in the sun, then becoming one 
with the sands of time,
eventually I wandered home,
not washing, but rather, 
savouring the sticky, salty
feeling, and the smell of the
sea on my skin.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 5, 2021 · 2:53 pm

Opening – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: Michael Gaida, pixabay.com

“I like the unreality of your mind; the whole thing is very splendid and voluptuous and absurd.” Virginia Woolf

Opening 

Opening the window wide
reality flew in like an albatross,
all flustered and no direction,
shattering all my pieces,
pretending to be something while
spectacularly embarrassing itself
with saturated deathly excuses
emptying from its smirking life,
and so completely removed,
"who's the dissociative now?"
I asked, as I closed the door on
my way out to creative futures.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 4, 2021 · 2:10 pm

That feeling – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Geralt – Nerve cells – pixabay.com

“Take every breath as an event.” Arzum Uzun

That Feeling

Blustery wind rolled off the ocean
into my skin with whispers of cool
hauntingly possessing me to the full,
and I carried it all day wrapped up as
electric juice sluicing through my
pulsing veins in rhythms of blue,
while the sky shone paisley and I
was iridescently alive to everything.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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December 25, 2020 · 2:45 pm

I Heard An Echo – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

image: found on pixabay.com

“The only real radicalism in out time will come as it always has – from people who insist on thinking for themselves.” Christopher Hitchens

I Heard An Echo

I heard an echo,
we were talking about the old days 
which were neither here nor there,
just indifferent to moral pigeons
holed up in some minds making
meaning from loosely connected
thoughts often called memories,
which had lost their way in the
construction of truth and broken
loose to free-range as experience,
rather than surrender to become
caged convictions.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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December 22, 2020 · 10:34 am

Where Fish Swim – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found at psd-dude.com

“It’s pretty clear now that what looked like it might have been some kind of counterculture is, in reality, just the plain old chaos of undifferentiated chaos.” Jerry Garcia 

Where Fish Swim

Let's go from here and explore along
where fish swim through trees and
birds fly with ease deep underneath,
delighting in nightingale songs and
the loud silence of earthworms,
who alone can move mountains yet
go unnoticed though they are giants,
then fly a kite in a starfish bowl,
O how we mock ourselves under 
nature's forgiving gaze, that we could
even begin to imagine an ordered life,
where everything is inside out and
upside down and round again,
we must simply live into that one
electric, platypus moment knowing
that there is no other.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 12, 2020 · 3:25 pm

Feeling Frivoled – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Frivolous

Image: found on Pinterest – ceramic pumpkin teapot.

“The willow which bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak that resists it; and so in great calamities it sometimes happens that light and frivolous spirits recover their elasticity and presence of mind sooner than those of a loftier character.” Albert Schweitzer

Feeling Frivoled 

The garish pumpkin thing 
screamed to be left on the shelf,
serving no discernible purpose,
having no possible place in the home
among the refined china sculptures,
but it was Thursday and it was,
after all, spring, and the fever was high
for change, for a whim of whimsy,
besides, what would life be without
a frivol, to matter not mattering,
to draw one's sword or buy two pies
kiss a random stranger or
order caviar and just leave it,
get a grotesque mascot for the 
dashboard, or a tennis racquet 
never to be used, 
I just might.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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October 6, 2020 · 2:26 pm

Waiting For Valour – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting and it it is quadrille time, and the word to use is blanket. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Blanket

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“Play is the exultation of the possible.” Martin Buber 

Waiting For Valour

Our flag hung limp in the stillness 
as we nervously awaited the first 
wave of the enemy, outnumbered,
waiting for valour, cutlass at the ready,
peering at the near horizon as the 
biscuits ran out and mutiny was at
hand in our blanket barque.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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July 27, 2020 · 2:00 pm

Floating – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: pixabay.com

“When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.” Milan Kundera 

Floating

I'm so light,
effortlessly, peacefully floating,
letting my feelings surface,
holding my thoughts,
entertaining possibilities,
buying nothing,
allowing nothing to form me,
needing no permissions,
unconstrained, weightless,
so delicious to hold the key
that is a life-giving secret,
to share it now would undo
its energy and hold the dream
captive that needs to be free.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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July 5, 2020 · 3:03 pm

To Trace – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: http://www.habitsforwellbeing.com

“A carefree letting go of oneself, not a caution, but a wise blindness.” Rainer Maria Rilke

To Trace

To trace the colours of feeling,
the very flowers of poetry,
through psychic fonts, those
heralds of incomplete meaning
interrupted only by exceptions,
the dispossession of intention
swallowed in the jouissance of hope
lurking in the shadow edge
of the sun's haunting and delicious 
space in that uncrowded halycon hour.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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