Category Archives: life

June 4, 2023 · 9:54 pm

In Winter – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: southern most section of the Leeuwin – Naturaliste National Park, a typical winter’s day.

“… one cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.” Sir Richard Francis Burton

In Winter

In June the southern ocean

reflects the winter sky

turning to a foreboding battle-ship grey,

an apt colour for an angry boiling sea

whose tentacles reach out along the shore

to snare the unaware beachcomber,

shooting gouts of dark water everywhere,

swallowing sand as if it were sponge cake,

spewing sea grass and cuttlefish,

and still there are those who dare to

push out into this maelstrom in a tinny

and wrestle the waves,

whereas I prefer my feet on the shore

in winter.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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June 3, 2023 · 11:25 pm

Self Reading – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image found on pinterest.com

“I am my best work – a series of road maps, reports recipes, doodles, and prayers from the front lines.” Audre Lorde

Self Reading

I traced the contours of the map,

the rise and fall of hills,

long lengths of a glorious river bank,

wooded slopes and rocky outcrops,

contours that reminded me of my

own scarred skin which I could trace

with finger or memory,

each experience body stored for

reference to the rise and fall of days,

long lengths of relationships,

contours that speak of living;

words sometimes blur and bend,

but I would trust myself as map.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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June 2, 2023 · 11:51 pm

The Language Of Storms – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Open Link Night the night we choose a poem to post.

dVerse Poets – OLN

Image: found at trainerslibrary.com

“Change only favours minds that are diligently looking and preparing for discovery.” Louis Pasteur

The Language of Storms

There’s a feeling of relief

when the storm has passed and

all that was anxiously anticipated

failed to materialise (again),

while life rolls on in a truce

between heaven and hell

until a storm interrupts with tension,

stealing our focus,

like the unwelcome visitor,

sickness, accident,

or unpleasant experience,

at some point relief comes and

we return to something called normal

forgetting, until the next time,

and I wonder that we’re missing something,

that storms are not fearful intrusions,

in some unforeseen way

they are our guides,

we just need to pay attention

to the language of storms.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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June 1, 2023 · 10:34 pm

A Different Song – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Rain Falling in the Beelu National Park.

“Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.” Paul Theroux

A Different Song

Winter sings a different song

with words that can make me shiver

and hold my arms tightly against myself,

while rain can cause me to take shelter,

except when simpatico, then I can bear

its gentle impromptu kisses,

whatever its style the rain intrigues me,

at the beginning it is individual

later it is gathered together as one,

the more I watch the rain the more I

want to be gathered as one.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 31, 2023 · 11:28 pm

She Knew – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting poetics with an invitation to write a poem using an animal as verb.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Acting Like Animals

Photo: Magpie, Beelu National Park, Mundaring.

“Like a magpie, I am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales, dead languages, weird folk beliefs, fascinating religions, and more.” Laini Taylor

She Knew

She knew that her friends

wondered how much more

stuff she would bring home from

her various treasure hunts around

the opportunity shops,

she cared little for their wondering,

after all, what some would call an

addiction she would brush aside with

– I’m doing my bit for charity,

but even she knew the house was full,

her shiny treasures were piling up

on top of each other in every corner,

she always owned that she magpied,

ever collecting,

only men were elusive.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 29, 2023 · 10:59 pm

Leave The Matches Alone – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: from people.desktopnexus.com

“The words you speak become the house you live in.” Hafiz

Leave The Matches Alone

Sometimes, well

oftentimes,

love is so complicated,

when people say

be yourself,

be true to yourself,

speak your truth,

stand your ground,

name it,

they simply don’t understand

that love seeks the good and how

easily the cycle of wounding

becomes so utterly pyrrhic,

as if we’d decided we didn’t

like our house and burned it

to the ground to make a point

making us all homeless,

cutting one’s nose so to speak,

without a thought to consequence;

love is complicated,

it makes the house of wounded

chaos sacred.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 28, 2023 · 9:39 pm

Days Like That – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image found at swarayjahmag.com

“None of us would choose to Sisyphus; yet in a sense, we all are.” Joko Beck

Days Like That

There are days,

and there are other days,

days where I imagine that

Sisyphus would have felt at home,

repetitively pushing up hill,

feeling that the whole show is

quite meaningless in the sheer

expenditure of energy required

to achieve so little in the space of a day;

every time I get to the top

the boulder rolls back down,

and I wonder how long I can

continue to repeat the process.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 27, 2023 · 12:34 am

Not So Nuanced – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Poetry Form with an invitation to write a Quatern – a sixteen line French form of four quatrains. Each line has eight syllables and cab rhymed or not. There is a refrain which is the first line becoming, in succession, line two, then three then four in the remaining stanzas. For more detail follow the link below:

dVerse Poets – Poetry Form – Quatern

Image by Bob Dmyt from Pixabay

“Individualism is a formidable lie.” Rene Girard 

Not So Nuanced

Am I alone on this vast road
where others claim exclusive right,
the lie that you can't know my way 
and I couldn't possibly know yours?

Is our experience so nuanced?
Am I alone on this vast road
or do others feel what I feel
when treading the painful places?

It's true there's not one shade of blue,
even grey has a varied hue,
am I alone on this vast road,
can any one feel as I do?

Are we completely lost in self,
rejecting all experience?
Are we hermetically sealed?
Am I alone on this vast road?

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 25, 2023 · 10:33 pm

Baptism – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Taken five years ago on this day, autumn 2018, the Hardy Inlet – Blackwood River.

“There came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set of on a journey to roam along the seashores.” Matsuo Basho

Baptism

Cloudy days herald winter’s return,

days when the sky becomes

an upside-down river,

white water, grey depths,

blue still pools,

black, roiling storms bellowing

and barking madly,

riven by bolts of flashing light,

waves rising and folding,

tides flowing and ebbing,

soon that river will fall to earth

where I stand waiting to be washed.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 24, 2023 · 10:46 pm

Of All The Shoulds – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Poetics with an invitation to choose one of five artworks by Thorvald Hellesen.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – An Artist Gets His Due

“Portrait of Halvor John Schou” 1911, by Thorvald Helessen.

“From the point of view of the meditative traditions the entire society is suffering from attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.” Jon Kabat-Zinn

Of All The Shoulds

I’m not often still,

to sit quietly is to gather a storm,

unrelenting thoughts that swirl,

competing for my mind,

if I sit here too long I shall lose the

thread of it all to atrophy;

why am I here,

the ledger is incomplete

ships are unloading,

stock must be ordered ,

and yet here I am,

sighing,

wasting time,

I might even come to love it.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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