Category Archives: Country

Fire So Soft – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“Softly the evening came with the sunset.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Fire So Soft

The sun, now tired, slowly
declined, but desired to paint
a masterpiece, brushing a glow
that kissed the river's silken skin
with fire so soft it burned beauty
into such a feeling where words
of meaning were meaningless,
could never be offered as pale 
praise and were quietly swallowed
in favour of receiving, knowing 
there was nothing I could add.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Need Never Be Answered – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Taken at Tnorala Nature Reserve near Gosses Bluff, Namatjira Drive, NT.

“Only from the heart can you touch the sky.” Rumi

Need Never Be Answered 

Did you nourish the moment in you,
have you understood the stir of the
east wind and caress of the indifferent 
ocean or touched the inestimable sky,
even when it darkens and the secret 
ceremonies draw us to sacred 
connection, keeping alive the questions
that live under our skin and need never
be answered, or we would silence our
deep quest and miss all that is present,
all that is wise, in the whispers of trees.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under bush walking, camping, Country, Free Verse, life, poem, quote, Whistleblowing

Fragments Of Delight – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: taken on the Jarrah Loop walk near Marranup Ford.

“It brought me to a new understanding of how, unless you’re connected with the land, you’re not really connected with yourself or the nation.” Joan Kirner

Fragments Of Delight

Aleatory fragments floating, spiralling,
dancing downwards as dry rain falling
softly, tenderly touching encounters
until resting, finally, alongs earth's way,
nature's carpet strewn together as
perfectly formed tapestries are, and
crackling underfoot as a gentle sonata,
releasing such a euphoria of eucalyptus 
to fill the senses as to be overcome,
and as I sat beneath it all marvelling,
my breath slowed, speeding my delight
in resting in this place, in this moment.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Even In This Fierce Place – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Old Southbourne Farm, Bakers Hill

“When the wind blows the grass bends.” Confucius

Even In this Fierce Place 

I love the way the wind brushes the dry grass,
and when I tread its tired winter youth
it crackles like a fire, sending shards into the air,
and not to wanting to be forgotten, it gifts me
with burs and seeds to adorn my socks at once
firmly attached for immortality, that cycle of
life where it dies, yet it lives again, even in 
this fierce place of parched soil, and I take
heart that shall rise again like a phoenix
from the ash of this desiccated season.

©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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Most Perfect – poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“To me, every hour of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle.” Walt Whitman

Most Perfect

I pitched this tent some time ago,
it was wherever I went, a home, 
of souling unity or fierce divide,
as life is wont to provoke at whim
it sometimes seems, but today
was that day when all was
smooth creamy vermillion, a 
tangerined exquisite joy and
azure carolling, a hearts carillon 
of songbird treasures, my tent
at once restored unblemished,
the tuning fork as lightning
released, today was that day,
the most perfect day.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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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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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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Filed under awareness, bush walking, Country, Free Verse, life, meditation, mindfulness, poem, quote, Spirituality

In A Silence – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Mish at dVerse is hosting Open Link Night when we are invited to submit a poem of our choice. dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

Photo: pxhere.com

“The night is more alive and more richly coloured than the day.” Vincent Van Gogh

In A Silence

I love the quiet place where the trees
meet the water and where the stars are
welcomed as friends who speak in a 
silence felt marrow deep as they search
my dark corners, lessening the dull
concerns of days lost of light and take me
once again colouring outside the lines of 
the narrow, and out, out beyond, to the 
potent throb of life that lives in the veins
of my freedom.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Here I Am – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Stuff Happens

Photo: Sheoak sapling growing out of a rock. Leda Reserve, Wialki.

“In a mad world, only the mad are sane.” Akiro Kurosawa

Here I Am

Mine was the cinder path and
only later did my child's mind
see the darkness of the struggle
as a tree that never grows
straight as whipped by rain,
chastened by sleet and 
shaped by wind, all the while
deprived in repellent rock
lacking in goodness,
but here I am leaning into 
the wind, smiling at all
life's stuff.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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