Category Archives: mindfulness

November 13, 2020 · 3:16 pm

In The Crush – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

Photo: istockphoto.com

“The years are too short, the days are too long.” Joseph Heller

In The Crush

The day's tide elongated my hours
like thick, slow squeezed lemon,
the juice of a day in the crush of
a hand now flexed and dripping.

Like thick, slow squeezed lemon
with a mess of acid citrus down,
a hand now flexed and dripping
so much a tap of flowing water.

With a mess of acid citrus down,
the day simply drizzled along,
so much a tap of flowing river
along the moments so tart and,

The day simply drizzled along,
the juice of a day in a crush of,
along the moments so tart and,
the day's tide elongated my hours.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 6, 2020 · 3:48 pm

Spiced As Wise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar and she has invited us to write a poem working with grapheme colour synesthesia.

dVerse Poets – Meeting The Bar

Photo: unsplash.com

“The colour yellow is a mystical experience shared by everybody.” Tom Stoppard

Spiced As Wise

Orla wandered a new 
beginning trusting herself to this 
new path with an optimism born 
of moonlight where she yellowed 
a glow from her very centre 
that radiated so golden,
spiced as wise cumin to be 
lavishly bestowed on all the 
suns in the orbit of her generous 
aching flames bursting upon the 
scene beyond mellow fields,
seeking beyond hue to the
crackling of possibility.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: I am stronger at hearing and feeling colour than seeing it in letters. The name Orla is Celtic and can be translated as Golden Princess. O is my starting point as O is yellow and so it goes.

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November 1, 2020 · 2:21 pm

Can I? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: unsplash.com

“When someone receives us with open-hearted, non-judging, intensely interested listening, our spirits expand.” Sue Patton Thoele

Can I?

So simple to shut out all the extraneous 
clutter of the street, lyrical airwaves,
garden sounds flying through the
windows buzzing, quelling even what 
my mind is captive to, captivated by,
placed on hold, but can I really listen,
sure, I can hear you, but can I really
attend to what is wrestled in your
meaning, conveyed by your feeling,
I can feel your voice, but can I feel
your words at their core across the 
space that is you, not you, 
and me, not me, can I listen deeply 
to the fulness of you?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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October 18, 2020 · 2:44 pm

Philosopher’s Lament – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Reason

Photo: Daphne Richard, unsplash.com

“No creature is fully itself till it is, like the dandelion, opened in the bloom of pure relationship to the sun, the entire living cosmos.” D.H. Lawrence

Philosopher's Lament

Perhaps,
but the path is not 
conquered by having a why,
certainty is so easily undone
and knowing is not in the mind,
to touch another in soul moments
is to unfetter the universe and 
recast the lights of heaven as
dandelion seeds on the breath
of desire, a love thermal to 
carry the world to heights yet
unknown beyond the very
smallness of reason,
perhaps, yes,
life is far more organic.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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October 12, 2020 · 2:53 pm

With Moon – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“A dreamer is one who can only find their (his, sic) way by moonlight ….” Oscar Wilde

With Moon 

I was over dressed in thought as I 
meandered the joys of my uneven
shoreline, with moon on my shoulder,
unspoken for a time until the
water beckoned across the warm 
expanse and I waded out into the
cool sublime and swam my emotions
in the calm where moon undressed my 
thoughts and swam with me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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October 4, 2020 · 4:36 pm

Present – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Ormiston Gorge, NT

“From out of all the many particulars comes oneness, and out of oneness comes all the many particulars.” Heraclitus

Present

I sat in paradox and
watched my consolations
wash through me as water
runs through fingers in a 
nothingness of interiority,
a mystical, infused experience
that left me lighter and present
to myself in the lee of my desire
that once dark cloud now
dispersed.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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September 21, 2020 · 4:06 pm

Waiting – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Hardy Inlet looking up to the mouth of the Blackwood River, Augusta.

“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.” Carl Jung

Waiting

I no longer seek myself as I did
in those familiar places of
tired satisfaction and now
wholly abandoned to an
indifference to the 
paths and patterns that 
brought me to this once
hallowed mask of imagined
meaning made in endless
passionate clinging to the 
squawking of gulls,
until I floated off into a 
spaciousness that knows no
bounds, an inner sanctum
of patient waiting.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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September 17, 2020 · 2:30 pm

Of Threads – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: tomorrowstarted.com

“Breathe and let be.” Jon Cabat-Zinn

Of Threads

The point at which the
moment disappeared
is lost to me,
all that lingers is the feeling
of threads slipping, loosing, 
releasing me into a floating
drift in a space between
where I stretched out across
the sky so lightly that the stars
passed through me as
intangible procession,
and as the last thread unwound
I found myself beyond myself, 
I found myself true.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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September 16, 2020 · 3:45 pm

At My Drifting Edge – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Jack Gilbert, pinterest.com.au

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.” Emily Dickinson

At My Drifting Edge

How to desribe the bigness of life
with the impatient failings of words
that judge and hem us in
making meaning so small,
skirting round the yeasty feltness
of things that desire to rise and grow,
life is big, love is bigger, an encompass
of the wholeness of we,
but I found at my drifting edge
of view a simple grey feather,
a dovely gift of no decimal value
that in its dullness shone
with promises of hope,
that all the coin of the world
could never be given receipt.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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September 11, 2020 · 3:27 pm

Gently Mocked – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: shutterstock.com

“You can find me in the frozen mood section.” Henry Rollins

Gently Mocked

The day was perfect,
but I found its fault
where no fault lay,
I beat upon its languid warmth,
sneered at its sunlit leaves,
belittled its calm and cheery air,
and, all the while
unblemished,
it gently mocked my
jaded mood.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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