Category Archives: poem

At Kaltukatjara – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse celebrates eight years of poetics and co-founder Brian Miller and host Grace have invited a poem that paints or creates a picture that we can see, smell, feel or hear. dVerse Poets – Poetics

At Kaltukatjara

The crisp morning air
hung with bacon
long consumed,
so too the brew
with joyous banter
and reveries of starlight,
while I wandered 
softly on the land
seeking space for 
thoughts that could
not surface in the fray,
yet made no sense 
in the silence,
only the fallen mallee
nuts made any effort
to speak into my day.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Kaltukatjara known also as Docker River, Northern Territory. Wonderful to see the original indigenous names being used more and more these past years by government and traveller alike.

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Of Love – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Kim at dVerse has invited us to write a quadrille (44 words) using the word blue. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Blue

Photo: pixabay.com

“A certain blue enters your soul.” Henry Matisse

Of Love

Welcome to my bower
of all things true
writers ink or anise drink,
azure sky just as Oedipus
reflected in earth's waters,
or the potter's cobalt glaze,
all needs a little chemistry and
heat in passioned mix, 
just as your eyes
of love.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Note: The Australian Bower Bird builds a scrub nest on the ground and fills it with shiny things, preferably blue in order to attract a mate.

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The Very Game – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: theswaddle.com

“Honesty is a very expensive gift. Don’t expect it from cheap people.” Warren Buffet

The Very Game

Crazy you say,
and sensitive too, as well
as insecure and jealous,
overreacting you say,
it was just a joke so
just let it go why don't you,
besides, you're just
imagining these things,
but I can see clearly
with added acuity 
by your gaslight,
the very game you play.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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If It Did – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Human Metamorphosis by Taylor James, found on My Modern Met.

“Nothing ever really goes away, it just changes into something else. Something beautiful.” Sarah Ockler

If It Did

But
what if I wasn't,
or if I couldn't,
maybe never would,
and what if I didn't, well, 
would it really matter?
Because if it did, perhaps
you'd change your mind?
Whatever your disposition,
this dissonance won't leave.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Many Songs – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Theme Song

Photo: wikimedia commons – a male Splendid Wren

“Some birds are poets and sing all summer.” Henry David Thoreau

Many Songs

As the sun rises so too the 
many songs that theme the
changes of the hours,,
from the calling of the sun
to its setting down and 
sister moon of course,
the birds o'clock is sometimes 
welcome, sometimes not, 
depending on my mood,
but the best of theme songs
not ever so loud comes the
call as blue wrens dance 
the yard with shards of colur
and such happy sounds.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

That said, our theme song is an old hit from the 80s by the Aussie band Mental As Anything titled “If You Leave Me Can I come too?” 😊

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Are You Ready? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: dreamstime.com ‘Crossing the Rubicon’

“The die is cast.” Julius Caesar (quoting Menander)

Are You Ready? 

Every crisis is a crossroad,
a creative rubicon,
unequivocal its path,
where bridges catch fire
and values are deadweights
ready to drown should you
linger in the comfort of your 
resistance construed as
maturity, or some point of 
arrival approved by elders,
that needs to be shifted,
not just for yourself, but
for the good of all.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Their Humanity – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: thinglink.com Still from the 1968 musical ‘Oliver twist’

“When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.” Dom Helder Camara

Their Humanity

Why do you fear that
helping another will cheat 
you of all that you dream
for yourself, and that your small
piece will be taken by those less 
deserving of their humanity,
that it takes away your veneer of
appearing caring when you give
so little and the self-righteous
judgements you offer, that their
poverty is clearly deserved, and
besides, it is your superpower to 
divvy droplets of coin like cheap 
salvation so long as someone is
watching your performance?
Why do you imagine that the
world is just for you?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Following Camara’s famous comment I note that it is still the case that it is easy to pillory or dismiss people who become concerned for the plight of others as ‘leftist’, ‘communist’, ‘socialist’, ‘social democrat’, ‘democrat’, ‘Christian democrat’, Greens and etc., etc.

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Filed under Economics, Free Verse, injustice, life, philosophy, poem, politics, quote

But Not Today – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: dailymail.co.uk Still shot from the movie 1984

“There is no greater tyranny than that which is perpetuated under the shield of law and in the name of justice.” Montesquieu

But Not Today

How clever
the con of flags and
their purveyors who 
valorise sacrifice for 
ideologies that dribble
like bird shit down 
lifeless, barren statues,
testimonies to a violence
nurtured by cunning liars
who consume our flesh,
but not today,
today we burn your flag
repudiating your death cult,
and beat your statues into
life-giving vessels bearing 
gifts of life and love that
set us free to determine
that no one will die this day
for the sickness that is a 
canker in your fetid heart.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Nutmeg – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: sheknows.com

“The spicier the food, the spicier the Love.” Anthony T. Hinks

Nutmeg

The day of metaphors arrived
like a vine claiming a trellis,
unconsciously filling the lines
of his normally vapid mind with
a stirring to picking pumpkins,
the slicing thereof to a soup,
tasting the bland therein, spiced
memories erupting a remedy,
dashes and pinches colliding
with a thought that simmered,
that his day was quite the same,
and when he called she said yes,
Nutmeg was always ready to spice.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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To Trace – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: http://www.habitsforwellbeing.com

“A carefree letting go of oneself, not a caution, but a wise blindness.” Rainer Maria Rilke

To Trace

To trace the colours of feeling,
the very flowers of poetry,
through psychic fonts, those
heralds of incomplete meaning
interrupted only by exceptions,
the dispossession of intention
swallowed in the jouissance of hope
lurking in the shadow edge
of the sun's haunting and delicious 
space in that uncrowded halycon hour.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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