Category Archives: Mythology

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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Filed under Farm, farming, Free Verse, life, Mythology, nature, poem, quote

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 …”

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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

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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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Filed under challenge, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, Mythology, nature, philosophy, poem, quote

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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Filed under challenge, Free Verse, history, life, Mythology, poem

‘saint’ – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poetics – On myths and Legends

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Image: Rogier van der Weyden 1432, Oil Painting. ‘Saint George and the Dragon’

 

‘saint’

Trojans lurking
evil was everywhere
and truth was not
George white hat
fired up the mainframe
password ‘saint’
and put up a shield
using plain C
located target
and typed,
ipconfig and
proceeded
-bgrun
the dragon’s lair,
now to execute,
simple shortcuts
-shutdown
-kill

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under Free Verse, life, Mythology, poem, Quadrille

I Burned – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

What Do YouSee? Willow Poetry

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Photo provided by Helene Vaillant at Willow Poetry

 

 

I Burned

I dreamt you lightening bird
twice you came to me
in the night
and I burned while
flames danced at my window
and you crackled
when I stroked your hair.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: The Lightening Bird is a mythological bird that was believed to be able to call down thunder and lightening (African mythology – Zulu and other peoples).

Paul, pvcann.com

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The Sanctum Tree -a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon (part 6 of the Keeper Series)

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Part Five

 

Part 6

The Sanctum Tree

Through the roiling, boiling mass
I could see faces, places,
and many strange things
surging and swirling,
the Seer raised her hands and
immediately the mass settled
to a sheet of grey,
she invited me to the edge
and I peered in,
she uttered an ancient incantation
and a tree appeared,
the Seer sharply gasped:
“It is the Sanctum Tree”
and with her hands she
manipulated the sheet
to show more,
I could not quite grasp the situation,
the Seer was tense
her brow deeply furrowed
she took my hand firmly
and urgency spoke,
“Keeper, your hour has come,
you must go to her.”

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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Filed under Fiction, Free Verse, Mythology, poem, series

The Circle And The Seer – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

 

The Circle And The Seer

I was transfixed,
in a daze,
while slowly, the figure appeared,
at first formless
then finding shape
and one I’d seen before,
long, long ago,
this was Emerald the Golden Seer,
now my mind was spinning
what was all this to mean?
I was in the presence of a seer
and no ordinary seer.
Smiling, she addressed me,
“Keeper, it was good of you to come.”
“I had little choice in the matter” said I,
“No matter” said She, “Come sit,
we have urgent work to do.”
as I sat beside her, she stood
and calmly moved to the circle’s edge
and carefully threw a double handful
of orange powder into the circle,
with which the circle became a boiling mass.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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The Room – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

 

The Room

His torch expelled much of the darkness
and created shadow theatre along the walls,
and I simply followed along
without any real choice
yet content in my not knowing,
besides, had I asked I’m certain
that the answer would be to wait,
and so I did not,
occupying myself by noting my surrounds
should I be forced to retrace;
eventually we drew to a door
and he hammered upon it,
a muffled voice must have invited
because the heavy door opened,
the gatekeeper withdrew
and I was urged to enter
a large room devoid of occupation
with sombre lighting
and a curious thing
a circle marked carefully
in the centre of the floor,
and just two chairs lined
in burgundy velvet upon its edge,
and I determined to absent my mind
from endless prognostication
and attend to my surrounds,
Tarvey was still red
and I knew I could not yet relax,
then, at a moment I cannot quite locate
the room strangely became warmer,
Tarvey began to hum a gentle whine,
and in that moment
a figure began to appear in one of the chairs.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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