Category Archives: life

Her Own Work – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“We imagine that we want to escape our selfish and commonplace existence, but we cling desperately to our chain.” Anne Sullivan

Her Own Work

She lived in a shell
of safety and hide,
a place to huddle,
though her body had shrunk
to the bones of her lies,
and she carried a mantra
just behind her eyes
that spoke of her life,
stories invented to win
over the unknowing crowd,
lines of indulgence,
the self to protect,
a rebuttal, retort,
you don't know what it's like
was her constant refrain.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Wondering – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Open Link Night when we post our own choice of poem.

dVerse Poets – OLN

Photo: resilientworker.net

“Existence is a series of footnotes to a vast, obscure, unfinished masterpiece.” Vladimir Nabokov

Wondering

In my youth I always sensed 
a long tomorrow
always arriving
with plenty of time
for all I needed.

These days my tomorrows
are arriving loaded,
and burdened with
bear traps of yesterday's
unfinished business;

leaving me to ponder
the moment of my departure
from all my tomorrows,
wondering,
what might remain
tantalisingly unfinished?


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Unsettled – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image by Anja from Pixabay 

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

Unsettled

There are many things that unsettle me,
a gnawing sense of missing a commitment,
the arrival of those letters with a window,
running low on fuel out in the bush,
a visit to the dentist,
but nothing compares to the southerlies
that assault our house
rattling the eaves and raking the roof,
pushing on the glass,
sneaking through door frames,
bending trees,
interrupting sleep,
stealing summer,
surely a wind has other places to visit?


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights Reserved ®️ 

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And So I Begin – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Punam is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about resolutions, offering a choice of five lines to that effect.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Resolving to Resolve

The line I chose is – When you add something to the cupboard of life, subtract something.

Image by KarinKarin from Pixabay 

“All I do know is that as we age the weight of our unsorted baggage becomes …. much heavier with each passing year.”

Bruce Springsteen

And So I Begin

I finally cleaned out the spare room cupboard,
filling some boxes I'd kept for a purpose,
One I labelled "things undecided'
which overflowed,
the next was for items to keep 
which became two boxes,
naturally there was one for the op shop
which seemed to have more room in it
than when I began,
things went in 
and promptly came out again.

Of course, you can imagine
this all took some time,
and while I was merrily sorting
a mood of melancholy took hold of me,
unrelated items before me triggered
memories of people and places,
missed opportunities,
words spoken and unspoken,
wrong turns,
jangled relationships,
seems that my cupboard of life is full,
and a wisdom suggests that
when you add something to the 
cupboard of life,
subtract something,
and so I begin,
without resolution,
to sort the weight of my life.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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My Heart Is True – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about heart.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Heart

Photo by Isabella Mariana: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-raising-his-hands-with-heart-illustration-1988698/

“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.” Blaise Pascal

My Heart Is True

My quartet, sometimes pumping major, sometimes minor chords, of deep, deep feeling, be they ecstatic or other, less so. To be moved is to know joy and pain, even simultaneously. To be lifted is to know the bounds of passions flavours. Moments like these I feel in my temples, my chest, my breath or lack of it for want of air.

My quartet, all four chambers, never suspended, never diminished, though often augmented with all kinds of bargained feelings of love, forgiveness, joy, pain, fear. It all wells and heaves in my body needing time to be discerned before any sense of consolation or desolation can be determined towards a course of action, if at all. I am uncertain as to who conducts who, but I am certain my heart is true.

My heart is beating
like the wings of a love bird
flying close to you



Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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The Tenuous Nature Of Knowing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: StayaPrem at pixabay.com

“Nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.” Oscar Wilde

The Tenuous Nature Of Knowing

Fragments of dreams scattered like confetti
through the brown paper parcels of my life,
strands of meaning needing to be sifted
carefully as flour through a fine sieve.

Through the brown paper parcels of my life
come the instalments of almost understanding,
carefully as flour through a fine sieve,
the making of knowing as episodes.

Come the instalments of almost understanding,
epiphanies of the vast distant shore,
the making of knowing as episodes,
a record of the unconscious to share.

Epiphanies of the vast distant shore,
strands of meaning needing to be sifted,
a record of the unconscious to share,
fragments of dreams scattered like confetti.



Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Now To Sing A New Song – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Maruf_Rahman at pixabay.com Flood in Bangladesh

“With considerable justice, Bangladesh’s leading climate scientist says that ‘These migrants should have the right to move to the countries from which all these greenhouses are coming.'” Noam Chomsky

Now To Sing A New Song

Walking ever so softly across life
listening to the voices of trees
asking us to live for all things,
these are important questions
interwoven,
predicate, 
subject,
object,
action,
follows a pattern,
ends with dilated hesitations,
why should I inhabit more than necessary,
consuming my neighbours?
I weep for the anthropic scene,
time to change our view of 
recalcitrant history,
never to repeat,
now to sing a new song.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under awareness, ecology, Economics, environment, Free Verse, injustice, life, nature, poem, politics, poverty, quote

All In A Second – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.” Voltaire

All In A Second

Doubt, 
that husk building woodworm
who creeps carefully under my
glittering self-sureness,
taking its time,
waiting for the right moment 
to slot into my thought train,
leaving me in a gently unsettled
anaesthesia, disoriented, and 
without a map, all in second,
until the winds of reasoned
calm push aside the shadows
letting the sun in once again.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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To Be Grand – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Celtic burial items from the site at Hochdorf. Kreis Ludwigsburg. at scilogs.spektrum.de

“To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent that is the triumph over old age.” Thomas Bailey Aldrich

To Be Grand

Will I be buried
with the symbols of my life -
golden shoes, anointed with rich mead
and scattered jewels;

will they prepare my altar and
sweep my grave removing all the 
joss dust I might have accumulated?

Will they set fire to my bones so that 
I might find the glory of that which 
comes after life and list me among
all the souls?

Will they celebrate my ways of 
stumbled parenting?

I hope they toast the grandness
of my second round.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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The Thin Thread – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about grandmothers.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Grandmothers

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“And when we said goodbye to one grandmother we said goodbye to them all.” Sherman J. Alexie

The Thin Thread

We carry the past with us in little parcels of love or feelings,
mostly in unconscious acts;

mine is to always gather people,
a reaction to the distances that have turned my life,

my mother's mother is how she was told into my story,
that she died sometime after VE Day and her long
struggle with MS;

and so we never met except in my mother's potted stories,
no wonder that I love a mystery.

My father's mother filled a room both in size and manner
she was a formidable presence barking orders,

laughing, always kind, always gathering her brood
around her sagging laden table of love.

We waved her goodbye for over 15, 000 kms
and the rest of her short life.

I have a child's image of her,
A thin, frayed thread of connection to which I cling.




Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under Free Verse, grief, life, poem, quote, relationship