Category Archives: Forest

The Place Is On Fire – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Thursday – Puce

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Photo: George Mill, Mallacoota.

Major fires burn across four states, two states have declared a state of emergency, the main fire in Western Australia is contained, but the east-west national road link is closed.

 

“The Monster is on its way to us ….”  Liv Casben, Bateman’s Bay.

The Place Is On Fire

The warnings have been made,
get out now before its too late,
and you sit waiting,
weighing the moment,
counting the imminent loss
as the glow gets closer
and azure turns to puce,
smoke fills your lungs,
while it sounds as if you’re
standing near roaring surf,
as the monster draws near,
and soon enough whole
twigs and sticks ablaze
float past on thick
thermal waves and
sparks catch in dry grass,
the place is on fire,
down to the water we go.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

50 Comments

Filed under Country, environment, Forest, Free Verse, nature, poem, quote

Breathing Again – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Pause

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Photo: Bush walking off North Road, Margaret River, so peaceful, and a great place for pausing.

 

It’s a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately filling up space.”  Pema Chodron

 

Breathing Again

Days are full when minutes need counting,
like rear lights on dark rainy nights
life blurs at the edges
and falls into emptiness,
an incomplete memory
trailing and fading, autumnal,
causing a semi colon moment,
a thought arises and time slows
feeding on silence,
holding self motionless with ease,
lost in rabbit holes unconnected,
smiling inwardly,
breathing again,
noticing.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

38 Comments

Filed under bush walking, Country, Forest, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, nature, poem, quote

Inner Architecture – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP – Thursday – Architect

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Photo: pexels.com

“True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.”  Audrey Hepburn

Inner Architecture

There were times,
more than she could remember,
that a voice would say
take your beauty and trade,
however, while she valued
her external beauty
for beauty defined her,
far more did she value her
inner architecture being
a foundation for all that
seeks the good and the wise,
a real beauty.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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I Cannot Be sure – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

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Photo: found on pinterest.com

“A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest … because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.”  Terry Pratchett

I Cannot Be Sure

The darkly raven fixes me with beady eye
and discordant derisive rasp,
the briefest glimpse of silvered light
on fading leaves that shiver on
the breath of the restless ones
like tinsel in a breeze,
while the dank forest floor
slithers and creeps
in the litter of this quiet,
horned and winged things fill the air,
time slows and ice runs through my veins,
I turn to see what pricks me so,
a cloaken figure speaks
and yet there are no words
so I hearkened her eyes
which pierced me so
speaking long of dread,
of hers or mine I cannot be sure.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

47 Comments

Filed under Forest, Free Verse, poem, quote

Friends – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: Wandoo tress at Mt. Observation, Mundaring, W.A. just on the boundary between Northam and York. This forms part of the Wandoo National Park and forest reserve in the Darling Range.

 

Friends

The Wandoo tree touched me,
unselfishly
it sent a leaf
which spiralled from so high,
slowly descending
on the warm air
and finally,
unannounced
it caressed my cheek,
we were hardly close before
but in that moment
there was a knowing and
the Wandoo tree and I were friends.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

31 Comments

Filed under bush walking, Country, Forest, Free Verse, mindfulness, nature, poem

Living The Questions

Vacillate – word of the Day

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Straight ahead or turn left? (Frost’s poem comes to mind again Robert Frost – The Road Not Taken ). In the end it may not, but then again it might be a good choice! If only I could decide. One of the many tracks to walk or ride in Borannup Forest.

“Love says ‘I am everything.’ Wisdom says ‘I am nothing.’ Between the two, my life flows.”    Nisargadatta Maharaj.

Living The Questions

As I sat and inhaled the morning’s brew,
I mused that not all was slings and arrows,
nor was there a troubled sea to ponder,
just a vague sense that the horizon was unclear
and that life really is a series of questions
rather than a series of decisions,
for decisions only lead to more questions,
and the cycle endlessly repeats.
I am more resolved to this now
than my younger self,
to sit with the tension between two points,
to savour, to weigh, to wait, to play.
The joy is in the anticipation,
s lovers would agree,
not always in the resolution.
As I sit sipping my morning brew
I recognise I’ve come to enjoy the pleasures
of perhaps, of maybe, or let’s wait and see,
to see all sides,
and to play all characters,
till my circle has enlarged,
and there is no singularity,
no monochrome,
in fact, no circle at all,
simply the experience of
the beauty and the vagaries of life,
and to live the questions.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul,

pvcann.com

30 Comments

Filed under bush walking, Country, Forest, life, nature, poetry, quote

Voices In The Glade

Glade – Word of the Day

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One of my many photos of Borannup forest, the glade is just in front.

 

Voices In The Glade

So profound was my experience that day,
when I entered that glade,
and felt the place.
There I surrendered my adopted
sophisticated self,
returning to my true child,
dazzled by delights so simple,
humble, natural, and beautiful.
How could it be that the honeyeater,
a dew drop, that dry leaf, the spider,
a skink or two,
a rock,
could change the very core of me?
This I know,
I left that glade
knowing there was more than I,
an intricate flow of life
that spoke to me,
and, overcome,
without words
my soul ran over.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

17 Comments

Filed under bush walking, Country, environment, Forest, life, meditation, mindfulness, nature, poetry

Country Jaunt

Jaunty – Word of the Day

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Base camp in the Stirlings, such a fun time.

 

Country Jaunt

I sense no grief in leaving the city,
my stress melts as country arrives,
as bitumen gives way to gravel,
as houses surrender to trees,
even the rain is welcome out here.
We make do,
we don’t do,
we do what we want to do,
carefree for days.
Only the sound of the fire intrudes
as we toast the moon,
and utensils give way to reverie
then thoughts of the morrow.
And as we must, one day soon,
take our leave of ancient friends,
I sense a deep sorrow in my going.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

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La Capella (The Chapel)

Exhilarating – Word of the Day

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Beedelup Falls, Pemberton. For me the bush is exhilarating, it refreshes and restores me. This is my true chapel.

La Capella (The Chapel)

I drink,
breathe in,
those familiar smells
of this hallowed place.
Myrtles form your vaulted ceiling
which resounds with the chant of my praise.
While your aisles are damp, meandering paths
through open woodland,
and at its center
your altar of rugged granite.
And yet, there is no intended sacrifice
save that which surrenders itself for another.
Sunrise and sunset are your stained glass,
an ever changing story of light and life.
Ravens, your gargoyles, guard the narthex,
announcing every entrance,
for everyone is called to this sacred space,
a sanctuary of wonder and delight.
This chapel of life-breath and beauty,
a sublime offering,
healing,
refreshing,
life giving.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul,

pvcann.com

30 Comments

Filed under astronomy, bush walking, Forest, life, nature, poetry, Spirituality

Vola Come Un’aquila (Fly as an Eagle)

Volatile – Word of the Day

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Part of the Tatra Mountains, Poland.

Vola Come Un’aquila (Fly as an Eagle)

What could I tell you, human?
What could I say that would interest you?
You who rules the earth without thought,
with every capacity for endings
rather than beginings.
Ruled by your ego,
rather than presence to
all that could be.
And here I am
soaring above the clouds,
observing the snow topped pines,
thoughful,
weightless,
without suitcase of ages past,
without concern for tomorrow,
for tomorrow doesn’t exist,
simply this moment that I fly into
is all that matters.
What could I tell you?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Note: Volare from the Italian which stems from the Latin Volar – to fly, but which also derives from the Latin for Volatile.

 

Paul,

pvcann.com

18 Comments

Filed under bush walking, Country, Forest, life, mindfulness, nature, poetry