Category Archives: Mythology

Something Good – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Painting by Charles Edward Perugini (1839 – 19 18) Pandora’s Box

“Hope is the only good god remaining among mankind, the others have left and gone to Olympus.” Theognis of Megara (Greek elegiac poet)

Something Good

Sometimes life can be like a pair of stockings,
or a favourite jumper, it all looks good and fits
so well, until that one moment, a tiny, sharp
snag snares a thread and begins to pull, slowly, then
gathering pace as it goes.

But just as Pandora took the lid from her father's box
releasing curses and unpleasant things, there remains
hope within the tragedy, that something good, even 
though as yet unseen, is hidden at the bottom.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Where Now The Sword – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting poetics with an invitation to explore the genre of panegyric poetry.

dVerse Poets – Poetics

Priam Pleading with Achilles for the Body of Hector ?engraved 1775 Gavin Hamilton 1723-1798 http://www.tate.org.uk

“I’ve seen this moment in my dreams.” Hector (Iliad – by Homer)

Where Now The Sword

Galant Hector,
even under the mantle of Achilles,
you are ever the evening star,
beyond the dark sweetness of death,
where songs regale your courage
and the gods dare drink your health,
where now the arrow, where now the
sword that could spite your flesh,
no grey for your hallowed head,
ever the memory of your youth,
your integrity in death
untrammelled by Achilles.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

Note: Homer's (the accepted author) poetic epic the Iliad is an a mazing piece of literature. In my view Achilles cheats and acts out of rage (grief) killing Hector, then dishonours the body until begged by Priam for the return of his son Hector's body. Hector seeks honour, mercy and justice, Achilles seeks revenge.

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Choosing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting poetics with an invitation to write about Persephone.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Persephone

Image: found at scion-origin.fandom.com

“Persephone had it right. If you must go, might as well take all of spring with you.” Cathy Lin Che

Choosing

They say you traded innocence
for pomegranates, such was the
twinkle in your eye as you untied 
the umbilical cord, being very careful
to bless the shadowy scapegoat of
your choosing should you be
discovered as desiring not one, 
but the best of both worlds,
always wanting to be there, then
here, never settled, unable to be
complete unless in transit,
blaming your heart's captors
rather than admitting your fears,
seeking the sun while living in your 
own shadow for all but yourself to see.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Sighing – a poem in pleiades form by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to the Pleiades Form – seven lines of seven syllables, each line beginning with the first letter of the title which must be one word. dVerse Poets – Poetics – Stars That Count

Image: wallpapercave.com – Pleiades

“The Pleiades are there winking at me.” Ted Simon

Sighing

Seven being perfection,
spiritual without doubt,
sisters floating like lovers
sighing eternal yearns
stargazing dreams like voyeurs,
star dusting talis dreams of
spacious, luscious liminance.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The Keening – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

Frank at dVerse is hosting Haibun Monday and the theme is Happy Halloween. dVerse Poets – Haibun – Happy Halloween

Photo: favim.com

“I can see lights in the distance trembling in the dark cloak of night. Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing a waltz on All Souls Night.” Lorena Mckennitt

The Keening

Moving, yet completely still within herself as night pressed in gently around her, she stopped in a felt moment and stood in what seemed a right place of heart. Her bare feet connecting the hallowed ground, she raised her arms to the stars and danced in saintly solace, this way and that. She keened for love departed, for all her loves departed. She keened for the unknown. As the stars passed her voice softened to a love song, for all the faces now present as she had re-membered them. Her eyes opened with morning warmth and a garland of dew.

Hidden beyond stars
love remembered in thinness
as lotus shines.


 ©Paul Vincent Cannon


Note: the ancient Celts always believed that the spirit world interacted in special moments in "thin" places, the place between the secular and the spirit world was thin, touchable, knowable. Most often these thin places were in groves. Celtic Christians carried this into their own theological world view.                                                                                                                                                                                 

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The Very Fruit – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Rosemarie at dVerse has invited us to write a poem using the word wheat, or any of its derivatives. dVerse Poets – Poetics – Wheat

Photo: wa.gov.au Combine harvester working a wheat paddock in Western Australia.

“In the very end of harvest, scarcity and want shall shun you; Cere’s blessing so is on you.” Ceres – ‘The Tempest’ Act 1V Scene 1 – William Shakespeare

The Very Fruit

Mungo hummed a tune as he circled
the paddock in steely revolutions,
a sacrifice to the gods as the
whirling blades cut swathe after
swathe of golden denison, 
the very fruit of Ceres hips,
sown broad in ripe April's arms
detined to crust his lips
with loaf and brew along
that old Friday fertility rite,
and Mungo hummed a tune.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Notes: 
Denison is a wheat strain used in parts of W.A.
Ceres is the Roman goddess of the growth of food plants. 

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This Drowning Life – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

De at dVerse has invited us to write a poem about or around mermaids. dVerse Poetics

Image: found on Pinterest

“The most dangerous creature in all the seas: a mermaid.” (Hook) J.M. Barrie

This Drowning Life

Mermaids are very real,
not those bare breasted beauties,
half fish teasers who tempt sailors
to their watery grave with sung
promises of seduction offering the
world for one single embrace,
no, real mermaids are in our midst,
teasers of the hight street
whose seduction is so complete,
they drown us in our own desires.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Between Worlds – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Poets Pub.

Sarah at dVerse has invited us to write using senses, just as Roy did on Bladerunner with that famous speech: “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe …”

wildhunt.jpg

Image: timelessmyths.com

 

“Not every cloud which darkens the day brings rain.”  Heitharvega Saga.

Between Worlds

Bach was playing fugues
as the storm clouds crossed my coast
and the Valkyries couldn’t decide
whether Midgard or Asgard
were calling me,
something was brewing,
my chest was tight and
I was on edge, I couldn’t
quite put my finger on it,
I was between worlds
but I knew that what came next
would possess me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Readied – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse – Poetics

Laura at dVerse has challenged us to take a line of Pablo Neruda and create a riposte or rejoinder.

I have chosen “Why did the grove undress itself only to wait for the snow.” Pablo Neruda

winter-1861704_1280.jpg

Photo: pixabay.com

 

“What is to give light must endure burning.”  Victor Frankl

Readied

The confessional moment is pending,
an absurdist response,
to excoriate and purify
the hidden
by a letting go
a shedding of pretence,
no room for Janus
though Sisyphus is close,
tearing at the inane
letting the core settle
in a visceral landscape
where the cold burns,
let it be so!
For cauterised we are yet
emboldened,
strengthened,
readied,
for the new.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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The Man From Locksley – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Green – VJs Weekly Challenge

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Photo: contracts.com

 

The Man From Locksley

Marians made to work inside
while sheriffs roam in Armani
through forests of towers
shards and spires,
but where is the one from Locksley?
Perchance his quiver is full,
distracted, he sates elsewhere,
while the city in torpor despairs
unrequited the Lincoln green.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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