Category Archives: challenge

Simple – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

5 lines – Repair

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Photo provided by Patricia’s Place

 

“An apology is the super glue of life. It an repair just about anything.”  Lynn Johnston

Simple

O how we mighty fall
with tarnished armour and blunted sword
as the horse of self-righteousness bolts,
and yet, to offer repair in that very place of fear
with that simple five letter word that reignites hope.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under life, love, quote, Five Lines, challenge, poem, Free Verse, relationship

I wonder – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery

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Photo: the majestic Karri trees at Boranup.

The dVerse Prosery is hosted this week by Merril and the line to use is “These memories were left here with the trees.” from ‘How to Write a Poem in a Time of War.” by Jo Harjo. Using that line create a piece of prose of 144 words.

 

I Wonder

I wonder what happened here before I am. This one tree might speak of so much. But what might a forest speak? A grove of knowledge no cloud could carry, a living intelligence that pales Plato, or the vast paucity of philosophy. Each bole a reliquary of life’s passage, each annual ring a repository of a truth greater that the sum of what we call knowledge. O to be grounded in the strength of your heartwood and risk the sky, or to shelter in your caress and know love, to know what you know, to sup from your fount. Evanescent, history passes, held by your compassionate gaze. Of owls and wars, lovers and seasons, for each an ossuary caringly covered by your blankets and, until the one who knows as you know, that only love uncovers, these memories were left here with the trees.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com.

48 Comments

Filed under bush walking, challenge, Country, life, love, mindfulness, nature, prose

Covert – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

5 Lines – Spy

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Photo: pixabay.com

“I wait with silent passion for one gesture, one glance from you.”  Rumi

 

Covert

I can feel you watching and
if I turn around I know I’ll catch you
pretending not to but we never
say a word to spoil this endless
covert game we lovers play.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

26 Comments

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Unforgettable – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Ripening – VJs Weekly Challenge 63

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Photo: gettyimages.com

“I look forward to being older, when what you look like becomes less and less an issue and what you are is the point.” Susan Sarandon

Unforgettable

There’s nothing quite like a fine aged red
with full bodied flavour,
notes of fruit and chocolate
smooth, smoky oak,
with a velvety texture,
elegant, and goes with many things,
whereas, though a young wine entices,
it is a little presumptuous
though thoroughly drinkable
but not ready to be memorable,
ripe, yet unsophisticated,
whereas an aged wine is an
unforgettable experience
ripening in the memory,
a vintage of desire.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

50 Comments

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Wonderland – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Child-Childhood

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Image: etsy.com

“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.”  E.B. White

Wonderland

Sonorous BBC radio
concertos and Tom Jones,
mum’s crooners
swallowed by mop tops,
dragonflies and frogs
by the gurgling brook,
Bill and Ben
rocket ships
Dr. Who on the telly,
Who can pee over the wall?
Show me yours Stella,
reading under the blanket,
Lego advent
laughter and tears,
cowboys and Indians,
cricket in the backyard,
5th of November,
birthday cakes,
grazed knees,
worlds beyond the fence
of tigers roaming close by
pirates sneaking
gunslingers and nazis,
cardboard fantasies,
adventures in wonderland.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

52 Comments

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Every Evening – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

5 Lines – Aflame

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Image provided by Patricia’s Place

 

“Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.”  Rumi

Every Evening

Every evening at the Hare and Hound
they arrived, he first, then she a while later,
and every evening they left together
arm in arm
and burned to the ground.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

41 Comments

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Take Flight – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics- Using the Art of Beverly Dyer

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Art Work: Beverly Dyer – ‘October Feathers’ provided by dVerse Poets.

 

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”  Emily Dickinson

 

Take Flight

Questions dawned
as I wandered the edge of my garden,
the borders of my day,
I stooped to retrieve a feather
which answered my question,
“How shall I?”
with such a lightness,
that spoke,
“Take flight Little bird,
take flight.”

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

 

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Just Crepe – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

5 Lines – Pancakes

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Image provided by Patricia’s Place

 

Just Crepe

Flat, thin or fluffy and drizzled,
honeyed, mapled, citrus sublime,
cousin of pikelets, flapjacks and yorkies,
pancakes are always so divine
but this one’s just crepe.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

45 Comments

Filed under challenge, Five Lines, food, Free Verse, poem

The Cuckoo-flower – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

5 Lines – Waiting

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Photo: provided by  Patricia’s Place

 

“The statesman shears the sheep, the politician skins them.”  Austin O’Malley

 

The Cuckoo-flower

She was more verbivore than herbivore
a cuckoo-flower who habited a simple meliorism
that the pasture was always better down the road
paradise in four-leafed clover she’s heard,
just awaiting the jumbuck special, ticket cloven.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

20 Comments

Filed under challenge, Country, farming, Five Lines, Free Verse, life, poem, politics

You Who Are – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery

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Photo: videoblocks.com

The dVerse challenge by Kim is to take the line “You will love again the stranger who was yourself” from the poem ‘Love After Love’ by Derek Walcott and write 144 words of prose.

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”  Carl Gustav Jung

You Who Are

“You will love again the stranger who was yourself.” she said. Her eyes were moist and tender, worried I guess, as I had been somewhere other than myself for some time, fully estranged, formed, nay, torn by the desires and opinions of so many, but never my own. It is as if, as Eliot once proposed, that I could arrive at myself and know myself as if for the very first time. To strip off the hats and masks, the accretions of a life, or two, and return naked to the world as my true self, the ungarnished and bruised reality for all to see. And that is the loveable, that is the real. All else is window dressing on a grand scale of deception of the self, no one else is so deceived. So, to set aside those ancient scales for love.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

21 Comments

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