Category Archives: dreams

I Ran Too – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Nowaja at pixabay.com

“I watched the seagulls, I thought, that’s the road to take.” Nikos Kazantzakis

I Ran Too

I was lost in this day,
it all moved so beautifully,
to breathe,
to see,
taste,
feel it all,
first the tree then
the waters edge
where the joggers ran past,
running and running,
until they took feather,
soaring over the glistening water,
and I ran too.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent  Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Souvenirs – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: Vinsky2002 at pixabay.com

“Remember the past, and that there is a future.” Deborah Harkness

Souvenirs 

Memories,
days mantled by feelings
of breathless anticipation,
the constant desire for something,
anything, to happen,
the spark of the next thing,
at the very least a sense of 
movement delaying atrophy,
warding off any wound to the
exponential revolution that
whelmed a generation into action,
now located in opulent coffee-table
books and undergrad courses,
documentaries, all taming towards 
a collective amnesia,
but even now the germ of its 
energy rises from below,
the subvenire of a hope held in
words, songs, art,
waiting for us to attach enough
significance to them they might
be forever held.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

Note: Subvenire is the Latin original for the French souvenir (to remember) and carries the meaning to come from below.

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Where Death Fades – Prosery by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Bjorn is hosting Prosery (144 words) with an invitation to take his suggested line from Dylan’s song Desolation Row (from Highway 61 Revisited) – the line is: To her, death is quite romantic.

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Bob Dylan

Image: wallpaperaccess.com

“To her, death is quite romantic.” Bob Dylan

Where Death Fades

She often talked of death as if it were sublime. Some mistakenly thought she meant the passion of the little death but in fact it is something more, to her, death is quite romantic. It called out to her from every fibre of nature’s breath. She sensed doors and windows, secret gardens, forest paths. For her this was a journey to life where death fades.

She was no tragic Ophelia seeking to lie down early, death was no surrender, this was life free of burden and furrow. She was quite sure that day would come as prophesied by Donne, Keats, even Blake she mused. A day when the living was lived and the leaving was relief, where ending became beginning and nothing was final, the greatest adventure. On that day she would wear white, and the wedding dance would be sweet like the fragrance of jasmine.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

All Rights Reserved ®️

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In This Place – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“None of us know all the potentialities that slumber in the spirit of the population.” Vaclav Havel

In This Place

In the slow solitude of empty chairs like
a melancholy wrapped in damp cardboard,
I have been left to close my eyes where
what lies unseen is now revealed
maybe for a hundred years of unwaking,
dissolved into a myriad tones of slumber,
this is the most ethereal place to be,
to be pushed off that inner ledge of 
knowing and landing fully at unknowing,
sensing a profound feeling of belonging
in this place of the wandering spirit.



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Such Wonder – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Poetry Form with an invitation to write an Octelle ( 8 lines with 88777788 syllables and aabbccaa rhyming) and the poem to include personification.

“Simply wait, be quiet, still the world will freely offer itself to you.” Franz Kafka

Such Wonder

There was such wonder in the clouds,
faces and shapes of lowly crowds,
rising misty portraiture,
clouds as a caricature,
taking me from the dark blight,
into my heart of clear light,
where there's no place for any dowds,
just clouds as heavenly love shrouds.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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What Happened? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash

“Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.” Ray Bradbury

What Happened?

Those child dreams of futures evolving,
what ever happened to them?
One moment consuming and real,
the next parcelled in folders, hidden in
crevices, packed in boxes, filed for 
posterity, should opportunity arise,
did that world fade, did age undo the
mystery of youth once offered, did
maturity  cover over the rabbit holes
of wonderment and leave us suddenly
empty, bereft of possibility?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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The Key – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to write an uplifting poem using the form Eleventh Power (eleven lines per stanza(s) and eleven syllables per line)

dVerse Poets – MTB – The Eleventh Power and more

Photo: freepik.com

“The practice of forgiveness is our most important contribution to healing the world.” Marianne Williamson

The Key

She had long bright coloured ribbons in her eyes
with mind full of of multilayered conversations,
all covered in rainbow dots of confetti.
a palpable joy filled this beautiful space
as she rose to speak of near and distant shores,
where love was never consumed only given,
and life, where life was held as precious and sacred,
one doubter hung a long dark cloud of question,
but no shadow crossed the valley of her smile,
which lifted our long impoverished spirits,
offering that the key was in our own hearts.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Close Your Eyes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: Surreal Sea Fantasy by seanwareing at pixabay.com

“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.” Lewis Carrol

Close Your Eyes

The world needs to lie down and rest awhile,
to let the weight of days past settle, allowing
us to float into dreams of unknowing, to wander
into imaginations wild, to let the sap rise juicy 
within us, for until we imagine, a new future
is on hold, so, close your eyes and dream awhile.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Safe Heartmoor – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting Poetics with an invitation to take one of ten words from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

Photo: elementsbehaviouralhealth.com

The word I have chosen is – “Heartmoor, the primal longing for a home village to return to, a place that no longer exists, if it ever did.”

“The wind shows us how close to the edge we are.” Joan Didion

Safe Heartmoor

My child self chose the frisky winds,
playing along the curves of adventure 
near my backdoor, while my
youthful self created risky winds,
pushing the edges of elder norms until,
my middle self held against the winds
of time, like a sailor lashed to the wheel
of storm's fortunes, and my mature self,
an oxymoron surely, wakes and watches
for those frisky winds at my backdoor,
waiting to feel that wonderment and 
retrace my anchor points towards my
safe heartmoor, where I may winter
for a time.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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More Than Plastic – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about an object of history, personal or otherwise.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Passions Stamped on Lifeless Things

Found on ebay: I disposed of mine not long ago, strange to see another one floating around.

“We keep stuff in order to hang on to what’s important, but it’s an illusion … these objects are not bridges to the past, they’re bridges to memories of the past. But they are not the past.” Helen Fisher

More Than Plastic

As night gathers round me
I seek the lamp which is less 
distinct than the light it sheds,
and long may it be so. 

but I drift back to another time, 
to a more hallowed lamp, a child's 
dream so bright, a Blyton character 
so colourful, as told by my mother's 
stumbling, uncertain voice, ever 
hopeful I'd fall asleep, but it was 
never so.

Noddy was more than plastic,
he was real in my imagination
and with one click he came
alive, drawing me down a vivid 
path of adventure, long may it 
be so.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Filed under dreams, Free Verse, history, life, poem, quote