Category Archives: love

A Spade Is More Than Itself – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mist is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem describing an object.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Object Poems

Photo: harpersnurseries.com

“All my hurts my garden spade can heal.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Spade Is More Than Itself

This is a story maker,
a dream builder of futures,
of kingdoms and complex lives,
weeding out the inconsistent
lines of irrelevance and tedium;
this is a creator of new things like 
turning over one's life and 
planting seeds of posterity,
to be remembered  among the 
vines of hope distilled as love;
this is my father, my family, my
friends, my neighbours and
with each thrust a memory
comes and grows.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

37 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, Gardening, life, love, poem, quote

Pond Of Dreams – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Open Link Night where we are invited to post a poem of our own choosing.

dVerse Poets – Open LInk Night

Photo: http://www.shutterstock.com

“Moonlight incites dark passions ….” Rampo Edogawa

Pond Of Dreams

I'm certain as not that my dreams lit
the light of my centre as moon floated 
gently through the window of invitation,
gently rustling my playful sheets of sigh,
lighting a fire behind my lids of desire,
with reciprocating motions of heart as
rhythms of stroked flesh hovering at 
the edge of desire assuming a tidal 
wave in a pond of dreams.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

35 Comments

Filed under dreams, erotic, Free Verse, love, moon, passion, poem, quote

I Remember – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about something personal in regards to a new beginning, and to include a seasonal reference in the Haiku. dVerse Poets – https://dversepoets.com/2021/01/04/happy-new-year-2/

Photo: Jasmin Sessler – pixabay.com

“Gardening is an instrument of grace.” May Sarton

I Remember

Sometimes old tricks return, seemingly of their own volition. The mind puts on front, suggesting that it never forgets, but it does. Sometimes old tricks are left in dark corners simply because their pleasure faded. And sometimes old tricks return, not by will, but by motion rooted in embodied memory. To once again pick up spade and shears, to don hat and gloves and fold into the joy of memories turning soil.

The joy of a garden is so primal, so simple, yet so profoundly felt. To rejoin my elders in time honoured pleasure is a rediscovery that refreshes my soul. Sanatorium, health-spa, surgery, clinic, call it what you will, it is healing in every way.

And that’s the thing, remembering. Remembering is a strange thing, a rebuilding, putting back together what has been lost though not forgotten. It’s in the word itself. To remember is to re-member, to narratively, even practically, put that past back together in some semblance of knowing. There’s a host of saints in my collection of dearly departed who taught me to garden and impassioned my green spirit. And, as I lift my spade and plunge in rhythmic moves, I fondly recall them one by one in this eden.

Chocolate tilth sits
fertile in my memory,
transcending seedtime.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

26 Comments

Filed under awareness, Gardening, Haibun, Haiku, life, love, mindfulness, quote

To No Avail – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: istockphoto.com Pouring out a libation.

“The original definition of sacrifice moves more inwardly. It means to give up what no longer works.” Mark Nepo

To No Avail

With every possible sacrifice
I made supplication at your door,
as if to all the gods and spirits
who might intervene should be
summoned for not a little redemption
at the drop of a hat thrown to the 
wind as to caution, a libation 
poured out for everything I had
pursued down lanes and alleys
to no avail.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

14 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, life, love, poem, quote

You Are Where I Gather – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to use the word inglenook, an old term for enclosed fire, a hearth to gather round. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Inglenook

Photo: istockphoto.com

“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.” Joan Crawford

You Are where I Gather

Sombre the days
with greying sky
wetting my windows,
mellowing my mood,
Delius drifting upwards like
angel wings of lightness,
floating above the 
warm hearth of gentle glow,
I reach out for you, you are
where I gather soft whispers,
my true inglenook.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

45 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, love, passion, poem, Quadrille, quote

Before The Turning – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: have-fun.wikia.com

“She was like the moon – part of her was always hidden away.” Dia Reeves

Before The Turning

Spring's last reversion,
a chemise for moon
before the turning of
summer's bold tune,
an unbuttoned salute
to epicurean dulges
promenading along
our damp, warm skin,
in the misted mystery
of this omened night,
awaiting declarations
of yes, yes, along our 
avenue of sheets.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

37 Comments

Filed under astronomy, erotic, Free Verse, love, moon, passion, poem, Quadrille, quote

Her Phone Call – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – The Phone Call

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“One phone call, that’s all it took.” Pierce Brosnan

Her Phone Call

Strange how the phone call chose me,
her voice was velvet chocolate,
so sweet and smooth like warm desire
that shivered down my spine.

Her voice was velvet chocolate
spooned on a warm summer's night,
so sweet and smooth like warm desire
transporting me to unknown ecstasies.

Spooned on a warm summer's night
we entwined in the delight of love,
transporting me to unknown ecstasies
higher than the highest heaven.

We entwined in the delight of love,
so sweet and smooth like warm desire,
higher than the highest heaven,
strange how her phone call chose me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

26 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, life, love, Pantoum, poem, quote

Hung By Threads – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Intimacy

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“Real intimacy is a sacred experience.” John O’Donohue

Hung By Threads

We were sleek gazelles 
caught in the moment of spring,
drawn to sup the youthfulness
of our open, tender flesh,
mirrored in our eyes of lusted,
dilated caresses, dishevelled
electric pulses flushed on skin,
opening us to summered days
of trusted space and listened
moments so raw that we hung
by threads of breathless knowing
unborn of reason, and the once 
moist latch now open to the 
treasured feltness of heart,
bonded as healed wounds,
and vested in renewed seeing 
that we dared to share as we 
grazed the plains of intimacy
unafraid of lions.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

25 Comments

Filed under awareness, challenge, Free Verse, life, love, passion, poem, quote, relationship

Held – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics and has invited us to write about eyes.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Look Into My Eyes

Photo: pexels.com

“Tears are the silent language of grief.” Voltaire

Held

I offered a word of unction as
soothe in the hard litany of life's
steal of breath that you held in
that moment of discordant caverns
and clawed violins as the world 
slipped over its own edge,
and your eyes declared a pulsing
reach of heart that awakened
in a welling of bearing held
between us in a knowing,
sharing, through solitary to a
lifting connect, diminishing the
awful theft of happiness, 
a restorative without need of 
voice, just deep eye-felt
conversation.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

22 Comments

Filed under awareness, Free Verse, grief, life, love, poem, quote

The Possibility Of Her – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, De is hosting the Quadrille ( a poem of 44 words) using the word or any of its forms – possibility. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Possibility

Photo: shutterstock.com

“Life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream.” Alfred de Musset

The Possibility Of Her

Carefully crafted, she was a
composite of every fiction,
his pulse quickened,
anticipating the possibility of
her arrival, the creaking door
announcing her, now hovering,
conversing only in tongues,
his tortured lips in flames,
he woke, lost in a fug
as the door creaked.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

31 Comments

Filed under dreams, Free Verse, love, passion, poem, Quadrille, quote