Category Archives: Gardening

So Too In Life – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: from today.com

“Anger and bitterness can be like weeds.” Connie Rose Porter

So Too In Life

Love for a garden can be devoured 
so easily by its many interlopers,
not least the greedy weed who
masquerades as desired, mimics
for a moment your many plants,
and takes a lion's share of goodness
for itself.

Love for a garden must be strong 
enough to include tough measures
for the removal of weeds at their 
roots, striking at their source and 
strength, eradicating their threat;
as with weeds in the garden, 
so in life.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Is That Why? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: owntheyard.com

“You cannot dig a hole in a different place by digging the same one deeper.” Edward de Bono

Is That Why?

Why are holes always so difficult,
resisting the heaviest of sweats,
the greatest intentions of thrust,
the clay is stubborn and felt everywhere,
the sand exhausts as it slides in and in,
removing the turf is never that  simple,
while the tree roots are always attrition,
getting in to dig down is easy enough,
but getting out is another story,
is that why it's called a drain?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Calling – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Nature_Design at pixabay.com

“I’m planting a tree to teach me to gather strength from my deepest roots.” Andrea Koehle Jones

Calling

On a bleak desert plain I planted
a tiny seed, it was the last of its kind,
all others having failed to sprout in
this hostile clime of searing heat and
cheap words, a forlorn hope with
crossed fingers and many incantations,
a seed of tomorrow calling to me in
my sleepless dreams, to plant a future
outside of this malevolent  drama, this 
self-enclosed fantasy we call living.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Following His Lead – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: A Burrowing Frog courtesy of backyardbuddies.org.au Burrowing Frogs burrow backwards into soil, this one is common in Western Australia and like the one I encountered. There are several types of Burrowing frog across Australia.

“The most beautiful people I have known are those who have known trials, have known struggles, have known loss, and have found their way out of the depths.” Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

Taking His Lead

Frogs are fun to watch,
one particularly more so,
disturbed by my digging,
a burrowing frog, uncovered,
sitting quiet, covered in crumbs
of damp loam, looking at me
as if to say, Why? 

I stood still, so glad I had 
not harmed him, waiting to 
see if he was alright and
soon there was a slow, subtle 
movement, he began to disappear,
scraping and pushing backwards 
into the soil, as if not moving at 
all, taking his leave to a safer, 
quieter place.

Following his lead, I put
down my spade and retreated to 
my reading space.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Slender Stems – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: a lemon flowering grevillea from my garden.

“I think for any relationship to be successful, there needs to be loving communication, appreciation, and understanding.” Miranda Kerr

Slender Stems

Sometimes it is the simplest things that speak,
while yet not knowing the language or even the
way of forming a sentence or meaning by way
of response, and it dawns, slowly, that perhaps
a response is impossible despite the complexity
of education or presumption, because nothing
is required, only the acceptance of receiving 
slender stems of beauty in this moment, which 
cannot be owned by words, but yet understood 
by heart alone.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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The Beauty Of Dry Grass – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: kapa65 at pixabay.com

“In nature death and decay are as necessary – are, one may almost say, as lively – as life; and so nothing is wasted.” Wendell Berry

The Beauty Of Dry Grass

The furthest bounds of the garden
are covered in pale, dry, crackling grass
and a confetti of redgum leaves that
crunch underfoot, the soil, hardly a 
soil, just dry sand rising as dust with 
each step, a place of no life all transformed 
in an instant of rain, gone the smell of 
dryness, now a cloy of musty, rich damp
smells, the sand now sticking to my shoes,
soaked grass darkening, collapsing to the 
ground, and as I pierce the earth and turn 
the soil, capturing all this beautiful dry life,
I rejoice in how nature gifts itself with life,
that every death is a becoming.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Thanks For Today – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to give thanks.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Giving Thanks

Photo: a bobtailed lizard on its regular journey around the house.

“I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.” William Shakespeare

Thanks For Today

Today was an honest day, one of those hard slog days to make something happen that has waited in abeyance for all the right things to fall into place. The creation of a centre-piece pond that one day soon will be home to koi and lotus. A perfect place to rest awhile and reflect, to find a sit-spot and draw near.

I was engrossed in my tasks, but nature interrupted me. The flutter of a honeyeater next to me working the tree, a diving beetle below me ever hunting, some blue-banded bees stirring the nectar with great care, and a bobtailed lizard sneaking past across the horizon, checking up on me. I drifted into this vista and paused to reflect and give thanks for these precious gifts and the richness of this moment.

one more paving brick
my stack is getting much thinner
diving beetle smiles.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Fair Fare – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting the Quadrille with an invitation to write using the word fair.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Let’s God To The Fair

Photo: buffalorising.com

“What makes the farmers market such a special place is that you’re actually creating community around food.” Bryant Terry

Fair Fare

There's anarchy in mung beans,
promises in adobe dung bricks,
salvation in fenugreek and cumin,
the whole world's a natural honey,
a string of beads strung by Saffron 
one full moon of love ago in this 
strange fair of life whose fare is smiles.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Autumn Past – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: the big prune.

“There is no way of making a hedge grow like pruning it.” Alan Watts

Autumn Past

Autumn past I pruned the melaleucas hard
and the birds as always were angry with me,
not appreciating the neighbour's needs, 
or the careless proximity of the swaying 
power line, let alone the need for sun on the 
darkening vegetable patch these shorter days;
I promised the birds in sincere whispers that
their boudoir would evolve more lush and 
inviting than ever in time for their nuptials,
and though they scorned me, spring has 
proven me right and the birds are too busy
to harangue me.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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The Blueberries – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about fruit.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Always In Season

Photo: Blueberries – Nowaja at pixabay.com

“Age is not all decay, it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within that withers and bursts the husk.” George MacDonald

The Blueberries

In the very first of the season came the 
promise of delight cached in smooth,
taught, dark skin, shining, exposed,
ripening before the sun, full of rich delight
to please any tongue or wanton fingers
willing to scoop the sugared, juicy high,
now torn at first bite, passion longing for
another, and then another, until consumed
in faint exhaustion, sated, drunk, and only 
then noticing the pink tinged florets
modestly calling my eyes to something 
deeper than a possession of fruit, and so 
in the latter of the season I gazed into 
your abundant, fruitful self, waiting  to 
be gathered together in a devotion fit
for a tender deity.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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