Category Archives: Ilness

May 4, 2020 · 3:46 pm

Together We Go – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: intelligentliving.co   one of the many wonderful scenes of Italians engaging each other across balconies and courtyards during the lockdown.

 

“One thing I have seen spread faster than coronavirus: connection – with family, friends, and our communities.”  Charles F. Glassman

Together We Go

I sat in the
impenetrable darkness,
a Götterdämmerung,
heavens rent sky falling,
some devoted to the tyranny
of lesser gods, while
others tried to escape
that which cannot be escaped,
while others inhabit
the same space,
Longing for a love that
asks no questions,
embracing struggles
with the paradox that
you, I, we, together go.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Gotterdammerung – the twilight of the gods, popularised by Richard Wagner in his ‘Ring Cycle.’

Paul, pvcann.com

 

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April 14, 2020 · 3:31 pm

There’s No Train Today – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery

Sarah at dVerse has invited us to write a piece of prose to a max of 144 words and incorporating the line “No one left and no one came on the bare platform.” from ‘Adelstrop’ by Edward Thomas.

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Photo: Wikimedia Commons

 

“While no one can change the outcome of dementia or Alzheimer’s, with the right support you can change the journey.”  Tara Reed

 

There’s No Train Today

Diane saw the single yellow daisy and she caught herself smiling, and she drifted, recalling significant daisy moments, like the time she and David, her late husband, had walked country lanes picking flowers, carefree it seemed, and she felt a yearning though she couldn’t quite place it. It troubled her, but she let it go. Then she remembered the train station and the daisies growing at the southern end of the platform. Was that smoke she could smell? Diane looked up but no train was coming, in fact, it was unusually quiet. After a time she noticed that no one left and no one came on the bare platform. How strange. and then suddenly, a young woman appeared and Diane asked: “Where’s the train?” The young woman smiled and said “It’s okay mum, it’s Julie, I’m your daughter. There’s no train today, you’re reminiscing.”

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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April 11, 2020 · 4:15 pm

Breathe Again – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: David Mcnew, Getty Images.  LA as a result of Corona lock-down and less traffic has clearer skies. Once again Mt. Everest is visible from India and Nepal, and other cities, especially Wuhan, have clear air. For a moment the earth breathes, but only a moment, and we’re not touching even the tip of the carbon berg.

 

“Silence is only frightening people who are compulsively verbalizing.”  William S. Buroughs

Breathe Again

Why haven’t we done this before,
is the monk’s cell so vulgar,
so stark, that we cannot contemplate
the wholeness of solitude
and turn aside, weary as we are,
to rest a while from the wheel,
letting the earth breathe again,
that we might too.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

 

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April 8, 2020 · 3:49 pm

We Raged – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – In The Time Of The Plague

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Photo: http://www.newsoneplace.com

“Hope begins in the dark.”  Anne Lamott

 

We Raged

We raged against that suppuration
of darkness that swallowed the night
and laid waste to the light,
that consuming plague, which
wrote itself on the hearts
of unwitting bystanders
near the corner store,
or the park railings,
unpicked by sweating masks
whose tired incantations
wrenched large at death,
and laid in arks
the valley of flowers
hinting at the new Jerusalem,
we did not go gently.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

 

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March 29, 2019 · 3:00 pm

Till Something Resolved – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: lacavaacupuncture.com

 

Till Something Resolved

Screen door squeaked around five
the linoleum worn by his steps
he turned on the radio
music streaming
anonymously to his ears
while he sets to with dinner,
as always, the same simple fare,
and he’d bathe and tend her
feed her with love,
she’d rasp her gratitude,
it’s not what they’d planned,
lost were the card nights
the bar with the boys,
their dates were bedpans,
face washers and pills,
her nights were his nights,
till something resolved.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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March 3, 2019 · 3:00 pm

Mistrial – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Trial – RDP Sunday

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Photo: salon.com

Mistrial

He lay
feeble, in a field of pillows
his face sallow,
jaundiced,
frail,
the air in his room was fetid
assaulting everyone;
five years he’d battled,
ravaged,
nuked and puked
to no avail,
but he’s not done yet
he’s got one more shot,
some new drug trial
no guarantee,
a dream,
hope
with which he holds his
string of life together with,
and just one more day.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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