Category Archives: passion

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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Where Ideas Land – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Open Link Night, the night we are invited to post a poem of our own choice.

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

Photo: https://media.istockphoto.com

“My ideas usually come not at my desk writing but in the midst of living.” Anais Nin

Where Ideas Land

It flapped in like a hyper bee
and landed on the dry edge,
just over there, catching my 
attention, I saw it then lost 
sight of it thinking it gone,
or so I thought, I searched
and searched, and there 
it was hidden in the lee of 
bracken fern and ivy strands,
a nest for bigger things.
This was my decisive turn,
the seminal, pivotal moment,
that fringe of the mind where 
ideas land.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The Canvas – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write in response to painting titles. Of the five title choices I chose the first: “A Painter Without A Brush” by Gerhard Richter (2019)

dVerse Poets – Poetics – The Poet As Painter

Photo: found at freepic.com

“Many painters are afraid of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the painter who dares and who has broken the spell of ‘you can’t’ once and for all.’ ” Vincent Van Gogh

The Canvas

The canvas stared at him long,
taunting him, daring him to move 
sans brush upon its surface,
he stared back smilingly happy,
slowly he undressed and rolled
up his shirt and soaked it in paint,
and frenzied it across the silent
canvas, all at once, fingers, arms,
legs, with every inch of body, he
kissed and caressed that canvas
with a language of colour rarely 
seen in any conversation or
heard on any palette of note.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Unframed – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Kim is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem using the verse “This being human is …” from a poem by Rumi and to use it as the first line or start.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – The Art of Being Human

Photo: found at lolwot.com

“I have fallen in love with the imagination. And if you fall in love with the imagination, you understand that it is a free spirit. It will go anywhere, and it can do anything.” Alice Walker

Unframed

This being human is more shades than pastels,
though one should never deny the textures or
even the subtlety of brush strokes that paint 
us into surprising vignettes in the corners of
the broader canvas, woven together with gesso
and primaries, themes, and understated meanings
that form a palette of feelings rising through
bold statements and the wash of background time,
but one thing I'd leave off is the frame, this 
being human is paradoxical and bears no frame 
at all in an unframed abstract life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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An Archeology Of Self – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Dig

Photo: archeofeed.com

“Dig deep within yourself, for there is a fountain of goodness ever ready to flow if you will keep on digging.” Marcus Aurelius

An Archeology Of Self

I passed through my skin to the ground
so gently, like silk to soft clear water,
my bones so beautifully alabaster upon 
the humous that enwombs me entirely with
an invitation to dig among the layers of 
my paradox, completely incompleted 
thresholds of discovery ghosted in 
opaque moments of connection that 
fire my flesh and fill my core, and 
there, in that moment, I am in myself
again, renewed, re-membered, alive.

©Paul Vincent Cannon 

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Dreaming – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found on quotesgram.com

“You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.” J.M. Barrie (Peter Pan)

Dreaming

Once,
when I was a child,
I saw outside my window
a world unbroken as if it
would go on forever and ever,
that Wendy and I would defeat
Hook and make Neverland into
ever land for good where 
nothing would break or be
endangered and everything was
safe to be itself.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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But Her Smile – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Peter is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to write a poem that changes mid way or at its end.

dVerse Poets – Meeting The Bar – Middles and Turns

Photo: static8.depositphotos.com

“All things truly wicked start from innocence.” Ernest Hemingway

But Her Smile

She played
everything in a minor key,
a high pitched dirge
for Sunday sins,
her primness a badge
of spinsterish anxiety
and determined moral
salvation wrapped in tweed
and ancient hairpins,
no one saw it, but her smile
belied her Friday nights
of wanton vixen over pints
and chips and sly thigh,
her ancient shiver of sigh.

©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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