Category Archives: dreams

September 23, 2020 · 2:19 pm

Unlocking the Light – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Lillian at dVerse is hosting Poetics and has invited us to view four pieces of Catrin Welz-Stein’s art work as a visual stimulus to writing either an ekphrastic poem, or other poetic response. dVerse Poets – Poetics

Art: ©Catrin Welz-Stein generously provided for dVerse Poetics via Lillian.

“Beautiful moons make for special nights.” Verna Clay

Unlocking The Light

Moon smiled and said,
in a voice that floated,
if you truly love me you'll
find the welcome swallow
who holds the key to my
cosmic desire and fly to me
that I may unlock the light
dispelling shadow darkly
deep, that is yours,
and mine.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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August 24, 2020 · 1:42 pm

Nothing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“There’s a constant tension in climbing, and really all exploration, between pushing yourself into the unknown but trying not to push too far. The best any of us can do is tread that line carefully.” Alex Honnold

Nothing

I'm not entirely certain of the day,
but I know it began long ago
when I descended the valley straight
and began to climb my towering life,
each step shedding some load while
gaining expectations in my stead,
longing, longing for the top,
seeking for a vision,
holding my cool,
until at long last I arrived,
with nothing to see and 
nothing to do,
relief flooded through me,
and then a silence so profound,
a lightness of everything
I carried back to the ground.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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August 19, 2020 · 2:52 pm

Only Dreams – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Lisa at dVerse has invited us to write a poem using the word (or derivative of) clown. dVerse Poets – Poetics – Clowning Around

Photo: pixabay.com

“Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.” Anais Nin

Only Dreams

We were agog in teens town,
all oxford bags and platforms
and we knew that the answers were
always at the back of the book,
there were no questions then,
only dreams to be made true,
including Romy, but she left the
party early, restless as always,
"Mate, don't be a clown, go after her"
they urged as if it were a sport,
but if it were the rules were unclear,
and I knew that her street smarts
would expose my innocent bravado,
so I clowned inside.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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August 18, 2020 · 3:32 pm

Those Days – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

Merril at dVerse has invited us to write a piece of prose (144 words) and to include the line from Allison Adelle Hedge Coke’s ‘A Time’

dVerse Poets – Prosery

Image: pixabay.com

“That’s what hell must be like, small chat to the babbling of Lethe about the good old days when we wished we were dead.” Samuel Beckett.

Those Days

There’s a time and a place, but who knows when a sound, a taste, might become a portal to a golden era perfected in the mind as a pluperfect distortion approaching a kaleidoscopic experience of emotion and memory, a trickster dressed seductively in sentimental scant playing with my feelings. In those moments I feel as if I’m falling into a melliferous treacle of spreading activation that would hold me in some romanticised yesterday colonised by nostalgia and no sense of reality at all. Is this my measure of happiness, success, or progression? Is it trustworthy even in its signifiers, those signs and symbols truncated as truths embodied in codes only dreams hint at? But, when it is over, said and done, it was a time, and there was never enough of it, whatever it was. To recapture the feeling of moments is my adiction.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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August 10, 2020 · 3:16 pm

Suddenly – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“All credibility, all good conscience, all evidence of truth come only from the senses.” Friedrich Nietzsche 

Suddenly

Suddenly truth broke out on a 
spring morning laden with the
warmth of promise forecast
centuries ago by the hopeful
prophets before they became
adults stuck in over insured 
futures of predictable plastic 
living suicide and, 
just as suddenly,
people discovered themselves 
and each other.

©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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May 30, 2020 · 2:14 pm

No One Could Hear Me – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: bbc.com
"A Riot is the language of the unheard." 

No One Could Hear Me

I dreamt a torrid dream,
that I was in a grand hall
and no one could hear me speak,
but everyone laughed at me,
pushed and shoved me,
took my coat,
punched and kicked,
spat at me, 
robbed me of everything
even my dignity,
I called for help,
no one came, 
they jeered it was my place,
to accept their fate for me,
so, I set fire to a chair and
burned the hall to the ground,
perhaps you can hear me now?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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May 27, 2020 · 4:15 pm

There Was A Room – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Make Me Some Room

Laura at dVerse has invited us to write about a room or rooms in whatever manner.

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Image: wakeup-world.com

 

“I am not absent-minded.  It is the presence of mind that makes me unaware of everything else.”  G.K. Chesterton

There Was A Room

Once,
I had memories of an outside world
that I never left, but never lived
since the solace of solitude
there was another place,
my room within a room,
I vaguely remember,
was it large or small,
attic or other?
To know is never important
whether the room was in me
or I in the room,
there was a room.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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May 8, 2020 · 3:22 pm

Did I Dream This? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Image: pixabay.com

 

“Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”  Langston Hughes

Did I Dream This?

Did I dream this,
wanting to see between layers,
to trace these images
and go beyond
where the dream is warm to
loud words of silence
overflowing white space,
where everything disappears
that originates in us,
hungering,
fainting,
desiring,
to repel unhappiness,
did I dream this?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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March 23, 2020 · 2:58 pm

For A Rainy Day – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Imaginary

istockphoto-519763325-612x612.jpg

Image: istockphoto.com

 

“The real world is much smaller than the imaginary one.”  Friedrich Nietzsche

For A Rainy Day

I bought an imaginary
just the other day,
took it home and
kept in its box
for a rainy day,
I peeked,
watching it glow
as it beat like a heart
of swirling colour,
then today I set it free
ending the darkness.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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