Category Archives: environment

Fierce Beauty – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Posery with an invitation to using a line form TS Eliot’s poem ‘The Waste Land.’

dVerse Poets – Prosery – The Waste Land

The line offered and which must be included is: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?”

Photo: an example of eremophila taken at Niagara near Kookynie.

“According to ancient mythology, trees link the earth to the sky. In this respect trees link humans to another world.” Richard Allen

Fierce Beauty

The eastern goldfields suffer only the strong or determined living in the extremities across these vast open plains of mostly dry laterite and also quartz, granite and sandstone outcrops populated by shy fauna and rugged flora. The summer is merciless, the winter winds penetrate layers. The rainfall is pitiful, the reason the state government commissioned the grand and ambitious Goldfields Water Supply Scheme in 1896.

When the rains do come they seem to evaporate before they touch the surface soil, and it is a wonder that anything could grow in such a place. Which raises the question, what are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish? Dozens in fact, varieties of eucalyptus, acacia, eremophila, grevillea, and callistemon tenaciously hang on out here where humans wilt. When the sun is fierce, the soil unforgiving, the trees are beautifully fiercer.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

All rights Reserved ®

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The Anthropocene Hymnal

Edited by Ingrid Wilson and includes a host of well known writers, including yours truly, from WP available via Ingrid (PDF by donation – a WWF fundraiser) or on Amazon (Kindle or Paperback), Book Depository, or other.

Happy reading, Paul

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Nature Smiles – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: looking from the back wall of one former pub to another. Ruins at Kookynie, a former gold-rush town once boasting a mayor and council, and 10, 000 people and seven pubs.

“What’s old collapses, times change, and new life blossoms in the ruins.” Friedrich Schiller

Nature Smiles 

The soft ghosts of landscapes clutch longingly
at our feet, seeking to pull us in, desiring our 
hearts be held in this place in reverence less
seen, even neglected, now populated by the
ruins of past dreams faded with the stretch of
time, no longer elastic in this brittle earth where
moisture cannot abide, where hope recedes
like a recoil, and all the while nature smiles at
our dogged attempts to take charge, patiently
waiting for the penny to drop.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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The Imagination Of Hope – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: White paper daisies and another flower I’m uncertain of on the way to Sandstone, in this arid sector life bursts forth.

“If a flower can flourish in the desert, you can flourish anywhere.” Matshona Dhliwayo

The Imagination Of Hope

Where soil is but sand and sits as powder,
forcing trees to cling tenuously as they
wait for any drop of moisture to turn this 
hardpan into a glue that would suck down
every rock should they fall prey to the one
downpour that sustains all things in land 
where life suddenly bursts forth with a 
beauty so striking in its barren surrounds,
it takes away any sense of anticipation,
any sense of knowing, as the earth is 
drowned in a celebration of pinks, whites, 
blues, yellows, purples. oranges, lighting
the fuse of the imagination of hope.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Chant For Life – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Bjorn has invited us to write a poem using chant.

dVerse Poets – Meet The Bar – Chant Poetry

Photo: One of the many Hakea variety, this one unfurling, Kings Park Botanical Gardens, Perth, W.A.

“There is a seamless web to life …. all Life is sacred.” Nat Hentoff

Chant For Life

For sister, brother tree,
we gathered agree,
so blessed are we,
ever so,
ever so.
For sister, brother fish,
we gathered agree,
so blessed are we,
ever so,
ever so,
For sister, brother grain,
we gathered agree,
so blessed are we,
ever so, 
ever so.
For sister, brother water,
we gathered agree,
so blessed are we,
ever so,
ever so.
For sister, brother cosmos,
we gathered agree,
so blessed are we,
ever so,
ever so.
As so you bless,
our gratitude flows,
may we in turn
be blessing to you,
ever so, ever more.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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1.5 Degrees – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Hardenbergia, as seen at Kings Park Botanical Gardens, Perth, W.A. in my view all life has intrinsic value.

Note: 1.5 degrees is the base objective for reducing global warming if we are to effect real change that protects small island nations, food and water and health. The 2 degrees allowed by the Paris Agreement is believed by some to be a dangerous game.

“Action relies on courage not hope.” Emily Atkin

1.5 Degrees

What lies before us is entirely possible if we decide to act,
not just to be sustainable but to turn the tide completely
with the courage of collective action without judgement,
for complete ecological restoration in our greenhouse.

Not to be just sustainable but to turn the tide completely,
to find the resolve to move from despair to engagement
for complete ecological restoration in our greenhouse,
steering away from denial manifesting as empty hope.

To find the resolve to move from despair to engagement,
leaping beyond the desire to wrap everything in a bow,
steering away from denial manifesting as empty hope,
and we might be surprised at how simple it was.

Leaping beyond the desire to wrap everything in a bow,
with the courage of collective action without judgement,
and we might be surprised at how simple it was,
what lies before us is entirely possible if we decide to act.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

Note: I was listening to Richard Louv who was a keynote speaker at the recent 'Wild Wonder Nature Journaling Conference' who said (and quoting William McDonough) "What happens to a society that can no longer conjure up images of a beautiful future, not just a sustainable future, you know, William McDonough the designer likes to say, you really want a marriage that's sustainable, don't you want something better than that?"

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We Hold Hope – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: St. Mark’s Park, Bunbury

“There is nothing like a dream to create the future.” Victor Hugo

We Hold Hope

When will the struggle to transform the world be over?
Sometimes, in my darkest moments, i say it never will be,
that life is a series of regressions running in circles,
always looking but never finding any positive revolution.

Sometimes, in my darkest moments I say it never will be,
our lives are never free of the shackles of self-focus,
always looking but never finding any positive revolution,
indolent crowds constantly ignoring all that lives.

Our Lives are never free of the shackles of self-focus,
and yet there are glimmers of hope irrespective that
indolent crowds are constantly ignoring all that lives,
because we hold hope of a future we want to be in.

And yet there are glimmers of hope irrespective
that life is a series of regressions running in circles,
because we hold hope of a future we want to be in.
When will the struggle to transform thee world be over?


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Here I Stand – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: a dead tree on the bank of the Lesmurdie Brook – still providing an anchor for soil and offering habitat.

“We depend on the forest, and the forest depends on us.” Nito Uvenibo (PNG)

Here I Stand

Once I was a forest,
I ventured here long ago
where I saw many scenes until the 
sudden impact of anthropocene and,
saddened, disillusioned with your
devalued schemes, I surrendered to
the tranche of your salt and cull,
wrapped in dollar bills and bricks,
where you promised the earth to all
but me, yet here I stand, holding the
ground, resisting the tide of your
desire to 
cut me, 
burn me, 
rip me, 
turn me, 
own me; 
in silence I point to life within me, 
even now the centipede, ant and 
moth reside, while the grains of time 
know me as a lodge at the edge of 
existence; here I am, alone, together, 
against your march on all life.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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To Spite Ourselves – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: i.unu.edu

“We’re in a giant car heading towards a brick wall and everyone is arguing over where they’re going to sit.” David Suzuki

To Spite Ourselves

Not needing, buying all the clutter,
Himalayan yak butter and 
stressed Kenyan asparagus, 
with the perfume box set from 
London or LA, and an emu bone 
photo frame from authentic sources 
in a foreign land, or origami cranes 
folded by eccentric middle class cats, 
always making meaning from advertising,
and culture from dollar power that
enslaves millions as disposables in a 
well oiled war on life and love where
we slaughtered the dove and killed
our planet, just to spite ourselves.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ® 

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Connection – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Paperbarks (Melaleuca) River Walk, Blackwood River, Augusta.

“To halt the decline of an ecosystem, it is necessary to think like an ecosystem.” Douglas P. Wheeler

Connection

The eye at a distance sees little,
but to be curious, to come closer,
to unfold your tender skin is to smile
as I see the night ant hiding, to be 
surprised as the well disguised moth
seeks escape in a flutter and a
running spider hastens away, always
on the prowl, while nearby, a banksia 
bee hovers quietly, then carefully I 
fold you back and walk on, taking 
you with me, noticing the difference  
in my step, and the wonder that has
captured me.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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