Category Archives: love

Have We? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: freepik.com

“You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.” Franz Kafka

Have We?

Some things come to me at odd moments,
tying a shoelace or washing a cup or, in
the moment of the perhaps, waiting for
something, anything, in the length of a
soft, slow day, that might offer meaning,
depending on the question of course,
like love, for example, that we don't really 
know what it is even when we have supped 
from its chalice, have we consumed love
or, has love consumed us?

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Between – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to use the homograph wound in both its forms.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Wound

Photo: Adobe stock – found at – simplemost.com

“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” Rumi

Between

The love wound wound itself around my 
heart sharp, like a cilice, offering exquisite 
devotional pain, and the more I wrestled 
with the feeling, the more it gripped the 
whole of me leaving me between the 
pain of regret and the joy of desire.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Towards Love – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: i.huffpost.com

“What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.” Oscar Wilde

Towards Love

Hope waited long,
until one day,
hope cried out in the
wilderness of life,
a singular sound, 
a solitary word,
exposing all that was stolen,
silencing the clamour of
desolation, until hope cried
even louder, calling to the 
very heart, opening the gate
through which we ran, ran 
towards the voice crying love.

Copyright © Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved  ®

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Who Is This? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: i.huffpost.com

“There are a hundred roads through the world that are easier than loving. But who wants easier?” Mary Oliver

Who Is this?

Who is this who speaks to you of love,
when all is fractured and fragmented 
and love itself has become so vulnerable
to the predation of romantic blasphemy.

When all is fractured and fragmented
we are such a mixture of joy and grief,
to the predation of romantic blasphemy,
will love beyond shame be possible.

We are such a mixture of joy and grief,
expressed in a language that moves us,
will love beyond shame be possible,
is meaning completely lost in this world.

Expressed in a language that moves us,
and love itself has become so vulnerable,
is meaning completely lost in this world,
who is this who speaks to you of love?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Imperfectly Perfect – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Nesting

Photo: Yellow Throated Honeyeater with young. Found at animal.memozee.com

“Where thou art, that is home.” Emily Dickinson

Imperfectly Perfect

She takes the very strands of life and
weaves them carefully to a harmonic of 
held space for everyone who arises, or 
ventures here of a warm welcome to the 
heart of the journey, enfolded in the 
energy of her love lived in collaborative
purpose, that all may one day follow her
weave, imperfectly perfect, with just a 
hint of gold thread and where there are
no locks or chains.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Love Ferments – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting the Quadrille (44 words), the invitation is use the word wine or some form of it.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – In Praise of the Grape

Photo: media.istockphoto.com
Syrah, also known as Shiraz, is a dark-skinned grape variety grown throughout the world and used primarily to produce red wine.

“If we sip the wine, we find dreams coming upon us out of the night.” D.H. Lawrence

Love Ferments

Usually demur,
Syrah comes to flaunt and
flirt in summer, her buds 
more rounded, tan deep, 
kisses full of spice, 
just breathe, she laughs,
as we toast the sky and
and all that lives in a vine
filled world;
like wine,
I could bottle her.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Remained – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“We loved with a love that was more than love.” Edgar Allan Poe

Remained

Your lips were open invitation
to the breathless arched verge,
your eyes a consummation, a 
holding gaze of drama unveiled,
but your words were a raging 
fire for my ears, and you smiled
as I burst into flames, and when
the smoke cleared your kisses
remained.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Take Off Your Shoes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon





Photo: images.medicaldaily.com

“Our relationships live in the space between us which is sacred.” Martin Buber

Take Off Your Shoes

I sense that my very ordinary shoes
would soil this place where angels
seldom wander, this place which scoops 
me up in its beauty, where nothing can
be separated out and where we tried to 
assemble our beliefs into small pieces
of approval, not realising that we are 
gentle enough to lift the dark weight
dividing us, and float together beyond
the leaden mantle of thought required
to make real what is unreal, when all 
that is necessary is to accept that 
the space between us is sacred.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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One Dog (Sasha) – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Sasha, our beloved and unforgettable Dalmatian (she died six years ago).

“Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.” Orhan Pamuk

One Dog (Sasha)

We shared a language of love, none of it 
written, except deep in our being, and 
we knew our joys and disappointments, 
miscued expectations held in tension,
and those sad eyed looks accompanying 
disrupted routines, or the sense of betrayal
when visiting the vet; 
you hid from the thunder in out of way 
places and pined when we journeyed
without you, you pulled us on walks
and ran like a teen, even in your dotage,
you weathered the pain of ageing until
you lay down to rest;
but it's never just the stories or fun,
you are part of the family flesh a 
companion ever held in our circle of love.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Hungering – poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJ’s Weekly Challenge – Waves

Photo: pixabay.com

“Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.” Alexander Pushkin

Hungering

Day's hours slowed to soft sand and
she marked the moments of deep longing 
for sunset by the cool, summer shoreline,
breakers crashing the encrusted rocks,
punctuated by the scree of grey gulls,
she turned to him again, hungering,
greedy for the waves to wash over her
and carry her to the crest of ecstasy.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


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