Category Archives: Country

Sooner -a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

 

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

“Dancing is a perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire.”  George Bernard Shaw

Sooner

Perhaps it was the wine
or the small of your back
we left the terrace behind,
your eyes drank my soul
while we waltzed in the shed
our laughter turning to sigh
and sooner, not later,
the long summer grass
caressed our shuddering whole.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under Country, dance, Farm, Free Verse, love, poem, Quadrille, quote, romance

Solaced – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: on the road to Jindalee, out bush among the mallee and mulga.

 

“And into the forest I go to lose my mind and find my soul.”  John Muir

Solaced

In those long brumous days when
my chest is wearied
and sorrowed
I dream of Maarla and Ooldea,
longing for that silent word
offered without guile
to flesh and feathered alike,
and held in the company of
such wisdom born of stillness,
a scintilla of self-acceptance
there, in that moment,
I am solaced,
whole.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Note: Maarla and Ooldea are types of Mallee. Mulga is Acacia.

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Good Friends – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Purifying The Mind

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Photo: The breakaway at Jindalee, so still and quiet.

 

“Since all is empty, all is possible.”  Nāgārjuna

Good Friends

I was a younger man then
when I wrestled the kraken of nemesism
and made friends with silence and stillness,
almost by accident it seemed
leaning on the strainer post
looking out across the paddock
at the sunset painting itself,
and everything melted
just fell away,
leaving me light of heart,
ever since
my friends have stayed the course
in various guises,
and wherever I am they are there
a welcome balm
for my cosmogyral mind.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under bush walking, Country, Farm, Free Verse, life, meditation, mindfulness, poem, quote, Uncategorized

Belief – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: Uluru at sunset, a calm and peaceful place, an ancient place, a deeply spiritual place.

“belief, like love, must be voluntary.”  John Updike

Belief

Of orthodoxy there is no real centre
except of ink on paper
where imagination dies
a thousand deaths
in a rut of doctrines and dogmas
that pierce the heart
and erase the future,
imprisoning vision,
punishing hope,
and yet we are all heterodox
bringing our creative spice
to the great universal stew,
an ever changing recipe.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Mick – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Dinkum – RDP – Thursday

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Photo: http://www.cjd.com.au

“He was a giver of life an alchemist that worked in dirt, seed, and manure.”

Tracy Winegar ‘Good Ground’

 

 

Mick

Mick kicked the dust with his boots
as a light breeze eddied through,
blue was panting at his side
it had been a long day in the paddock and
his thoughts turned again to home,
another hour and he’d be there
the house all go with kids and dinner,
Deb would have most of it sorted
she was a great sheila,
hard working
a dab hand on the farm,
the windmill groaned a rusty groan
finishing his reverie for now,
time was grinding on,
the light was fading,
night’s chill descending,
contented, he climbed into the ute
and with blue took the firebreak
home to his fair dinkum love.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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There She Was – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse – Poetics – Temperature

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Photo: pxhere.com

“Licence my roving hands …”  John Donne

 

There She Was

Where paths lead,
the abiding question
niggling at my core,
river bend
or river pool stroll
and so it was,
waterhens idled
and the water was velvet
under the spell of lilies
those sirens of fertility,
and there she was
nymph arising,
my mantra
lead me not …,
failing,
bursting into flames as
her eyes called.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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Where I Am – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Solitude/Solitary – RDP Thursday

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Photo: One of my favourite places, Jindalee, a true solitude as with many places in the centre.

“The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.”  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Where I Am

Can I really bear myself
in silent quarters close,
to shut the door of every noise
allowing my mind to freely wander
and not count the cost of clocks
or the doings of productive minds,
to surrender instead to a
productive nothing,
can I trust the silence that
brings me to myself,
can I be with me,
just me,
for wherever I am,
there solitude waits.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Life-Giver – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: Elachbutting Rock, one of Western Australia’s waved rocks, and typically showing the effect of water and air on the minerals in the rock. The rocks are crucial to flora and fauna, filtering and directing, and holding water. The indigenous relied on them as a source of water, and most of the granite and sandstone outcrops form part of the extensive Song Lines.

 

Life-Giver

In a dry wilderness land
where wind whips sand
and helios mercilessly
desiccates all life,
you form and poise
almost reaching that peak,
yet never crashing to foam
holding the space as
serpentine life-giver
oasis of hope
sentinel of Eden
in this dry ocean.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

 

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Filed under Country, Free Verse, life, nature, poem, Quadrille

The Very Center – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Peace – RDP Saturday

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Photo: the Moore River at the rear of New Norcia monastery.

The Very Center

The trickster offers it with a flourish
bargained as something for our time,
but it came with Zyklon B
and piles of childrens shoes,
it was so eerie
but then,
evil takes your breath away,
it comes with napalm
cluster bombs
and starvation,
the guns eventually silenced
but there was no peace
not even in the cathedrals or temples
or the consumption of techniques
could I find it,
sure, I read a book or two,
met a guru,
sat with the sacred,
then the day dawned where
I saw peace in all its beauty,
where its friend stillness habited
the midst of the eye of my storm,
and the very center
was how I was
as much as where
never who,
but it helps to smell
the eucalypts and feel the sandstone,
touch the water,
and just sit
while the winds of life
rage all around me,
and there it is.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Coloured Every Space – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: pixabay.com

Coloured Every Space

There was a time of doldrum days
becalmed in old routines and
repetitious droughts of mind
like harvest fields of crackling grain
and hanging, dry, stringy bark,
when creeks were dry
and summer blazed
with no relief in sight,
until I heard the rustling leaves
and tap, tap, tapping screen door
with a breath of air,
I sensed a change as
you drifted in and
coloured every space.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under Country, Farm, Free Verse, life, love, nature, poem, relationship