Category Archives: music

Clothesline Blues – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by Anna Shvets:

“I make instruments from found objects and common objects, and I search for the sounds that are hidden in them and release them into the world.” Jay Kreimer

Clothesline Blues

How do your hear your washing line,
the sounds that evolve with every 
score that is hung on those staff lines,
small to medium, to large, noting
treble, bass, then picking up the pace,
as sheets sit beside jeans,
it could be four-four, or even more,
are blue clothes g or e, are orange 
clothes f, and what of grey, there's no
limit to the improv as feet tap and pegs
click, could be Gillespie, could be Coltrane, 
I love this washing jazz, I love these
clothesline blues.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️


Filed under Free Verse, Humour, life, music, poem, quote

See That Girl – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Poetics with a tribute to long time member of the bar Bjorn from Sweden and the invitation is to write a poem using a line form Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen.’

I could’t get past dancing or the line “Ooh, see that girl.”

dVerse Poets – Poetics – This One’s For You Bjorn


See That Girl

Ooh, see that girl,
she's like a candy swirl,
strobed ball mirrored in her eyes,
flashing amyl smiles for those 
night-time miles of Donna and Gloria,
spine melting moves and chakra 
grooves sashayed to the spine,
it's Friday loose and the beat divine

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®


Filed under dance, Free Verse, music, passion, poem, Quadrille, quote

Swing Swish – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about a memory.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – In The Light Of Other Days


“The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word.” Margaretha Geertruida MacLeod (Mata Hari)

Swing Swish

Laconic, the announcer regales in 
scratchy, valved tone a miller tune, 
the swish of her summer dress 
catches my ear, a familiar sound, 
she smiles to herself of dancehalls, 
velvet collared jackets, florals flared, 
I can see a trumpet in her eyes, and 
feel the rhythm in her walk, in this
moment she is spring, summer,
lighter, she reads my face and speaks 
of war and simple pleasures, soon
drifting into her memories, and I 
to the swirl of my spinning top.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®


Filed under dance, Free Verse, life, music, poem, quote

Washes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Video: creek in Mundaring just starting to flow as rains build slowly (winter its coming).

“Character develops itself in the stream of life.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


There's a sound that washes out 
the tension coiled in the back of
my mind, gently flowing among the
reeds like flute sonatas flooding
slowly through the brook of my body,
refreshing as it goes, softly singing
me a love song connection, an
invitation to an acceptance of dips
and hollows, the roots and rocks
that help to form my song.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®


Filed under bush walking, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, music, nature, poem, quote

The Yellow Thrum – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace has invited us to once again look at synesthesia, this time music as colour.

dVerse Poets – Meeting the Bar – Synesthesia


“Although I see colours in every song, it’s the artist put his (sic) heart and soul into that produce the best images.” Melissa McCracken

The Yellow Thrum

The prologue for a country pastorale
was a warm summer's picnic basket
where the oranges dislodged and fell
into the sky a new palette which walked
like a bass line thrumming deep orange
right down my spine a glow turning
crimson with vibrations lighting up
the grey neutral neural centre with
a blistering violin solo so thin it
caught fire across the parchment of 
dots to be joined in a minor key, 
while the coda became a sombre 
capitulation to the merging rainbow
pulsating backbeat defibrillating my
plexus in bursts of visceral orange and 
yellow treble cross talking me all the way
to ecstatic floods of warm mood in C.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Filed under Free Verse, music, passion, poem, quote, Synesthesia

A Horror Coming Down – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night


Image: by Jonathan Burton and found at


“In the time of deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.”  George Orwell.


A Horror Coming down

Mobsters, junkies and clowns,
Orwell’s horror
a horror coming round,
soon we’ll be in the ground,
soon we’ll be in the ground,
write nothing,
think nothing,
don’t shake the tree,
just standin’ in my yard,
my business,
mine for me,
them don’t like it
no, they don’t want it,
no one’s for free,
my mind’s banged up
in a dead wing,
but they wanna own it,
they wanna write it,
the wanna tell me what to think,
just don’t think, no
just don’t think,
don’t speak at all,
it’s killing me man,
the shoot me down,
they shoot you down,
killer’s running round
all for peace,
some plastic peace,
righteous facade,
a horror coming down,
a horror coming down.

©Paul Vincent Cannon



Note 1: The poem carries a rap influence, and was inspired by ‘1984’, Edward Snowden’s revelations, and the plight of Drill Rap artists in the UK, Australia and the US where censorship has been used as a weapon to limit and control the artistic expression of Drill Rap as a genre. Yet another sickening moral panic (accusations of organised crime, criminality, drug use, murder, and threats – obviously the authorities don’t read or live in poverty areas, or check the facts) being used against writers, and Australian and British police using power to censor and restrict artistic expression.

Note 2: in the poem the word wing = prison.


Filed under Free Verse, life, music, philosophy, poem, politics, quote, Rap

That Melolagnia – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Music




“When life or love gets dull, adjust your sensuality.”  Lebo Grand


That Melolagnia

His deep bass
shivered her spine
and his strumming
made her faint,
all that four-four
was a beautiful play,
and he played her to the edge
of the clef.

©Paul Vincent Cannon



Filed under challenge, Free Verse, love, music, poem, quote, relationship, romance, Sex

Like A Wave – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Surrealism in Poems

Linda at dVerse has invited us to delve into surrealism.



“An ecstasy is a thing that will not go into words; it feels like music.”  Mark Twain

Like A Wave

The water once gathered from the sky,
heaven’s bold gift
a recess of your mind
your dark iris hears, sees, and
tells a tale of something known
in the very core of that secret place,
turning, writhing, resisting,
as the piper plays
tunes move through you,
a smooth melolagnia,
your hairs stand
rippling, like a wave
as you soak deep
the abiding presence
washing over,
now spent
as night.

©Paul Vincent Cannon



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

I’d Rather Be Me – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Karaoke – Word of the Day




I’d Rather Be Me

Everyone’s going it’s a la monde,
you could be Buble, Jagger or Cardi,
I sighed and relented
and tagged along,
but they were all off-beat
and way, way out of key,
they were having such fun,
but I was thinking,
I’d rather be me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, life, music, poem

Sorrows Me Still – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Cry Me A river 

Amaya Engleking has invited a poem on a piece of music that brought tears. So many choices!

Video: found on YouTube – Gordon Lightfoot singing “The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald.”


Sorrows Me Still

The crew never knew as they bid farewell
for their regular gig on the lake,
that treachery would strike
by the weight and the wind,
not by jury or flag,
twenty-nine had plotted their time,
played their regular goodbyes
unbeknown, for the very last trip.
I read it in 75 in the time
but I lost it when I heard Gordon sing,
his chords played my heart
with a harrowing wrench
and eased a tear along my cheek,
mournful and thoughtful
the church bell ringing the toll
made me weep,
and the futility
sorrows me still.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, grief, history, life, music, poem