Category Archives: poem

Answer Isn’t Here – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Unanswerable – VJs Weekly Challenge





Answer Isn’t Here

Timorous bold
spirited cold,
certain uncertainty
normal abnormality,
truth be told
the answers there
but it’s not,
it hovers out of reach
and lingers like spice on the tongue
a memory not quite clear
even masquerading the tangible
and mocks with fundamental apparition
our every certain veneer,
and answer derides
as we cling and hope,
but even when we think it is,
answer isn’t here.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, life, mindfulness, philosophy, poem

To Deliquesce – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Thaw – RDP Thursday




To Deliquesce

We were so very right from opposing views,
and our spines were steel
supports for cantilevered lips
projecting righteous hurt,
and as words settled into silence,
anger cooled as
a blanket of ice
a slippery sheet of layered invective,
woven with anger
and hemmed with shame.
In order to deliquesce,
a hand would be needed
a look given,
a sad smile offered,
a hug shared,
and all would be forgiven
then spring would evolve
fecund from the ground of our pain.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, life, love, poem, relationship

She Floated – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Poetics – dVerse Poets – Madis-Gras-Mambo



She Floated

Lent descended like a leaden dove
all sombre and accusing
but she beat the holy feast
to the shriving box
before the bell had ceased,
absolved she floated home
to clean out the pantry
of expectations,
and maybes,
there was never much there
but there was less now
as she devoured the old
making way for tomorrows,
dancing for all she was worth
and, though there’d be ash,
she’d transcended the pain
going all the way to ascension.

©Paul Vincent Cannon



Filed under dance, Free Verse, life, poem, Spirituality

My Quest – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

What Do You See? Willow Poetry




My Quest

I had a dream
that I rode my white charger
across Ramsdale Bridge
by way of returning to Tintagel,
my quest for the Grail as yet, incomplete.
Too late I saw old Afrit
sleeping underneath,
my steed trod lightly
for he sensed the dragon
and we passed safely,
at that very moment I awoke
and feeling peckish
I set out on a quest to the fridge,
crossing the old wooden floor
carefully on tiptoe
lest I awaken my mother-in-law
who slept nearby.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




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

Invitation – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Spike – dVerse Poets Quadrille 75


Photo:  Himalayan Spikenard




threw wisdom out the window
just for a moment
as he lay with the woman from Shulem
who came to him in the night
naked, spiced,
sweet to taste,
whose garden,
that holy of holies,
was pure spikenard
fragrance of invitation
to explore.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Note: This poem references Song of Songs variously known as The Canticle, Canticle of Solomon, Song of Solomon, etc. which is part of the Jewish canon (from the scrolls of the Tanakh). The Song of Songs (holy of holies) is a poetic tribute to erotic love focussing on Solomon and an unnamed woman from Shulem. Solomon names her physical parts and she reciprocates, poetically, spikenard being the penultimate aroma of the vagina, or as Solomon says, her channel, or, her garden.





Filed under Free Verse, history, love, poem, Quadrille, Sex

Beautiful Again – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Spray – RDP Monday



Beautiful Again

Bricks thirsty
the building dejected, lonely,
divorced from the life once given
in architectural matrimony
a fidelity now forsaken as
adultery claims newer, younger designs,
so, she tries
and puts on some makeup
over the tired foundation
offending some with her
bold and gaudy style,
while others tut-tut
complaining that she hasn’t
done it right,
too random,
too modern,
some smile warm, welcome smiles
and greet her as an old friend
refreshed, lively, and
beautiful again.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Note: I think I might be alone in the world but I applaud Graffiti, sanctioned or otherwise, I find art anarchy refreshing. But there is a distinction between graffiti and tagging. Tagging is simply names, numbers and codes for those claiming a tag challenge on public property and it is not art, whereas Graffiti is art.



Filed under art, creativity, Free Verse, life, poem

The Door Opens (part three) – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Part One – How Is It That I Go?

Part Two – The Oracle Warns

Part Three


The Door Opens

Struggling to breathe I
managed to pull the bell rope
unseen eyes upon me,
an eternity passed as
the moon descending accentuated
the cold darkness,
alone, I waited without choice
until the door grill was wrenched
and someone bellowed,
“Who calls on Vendell at this hour?”
I rasped out,
“The Keeper.”
and heard his sharp intake of breath,
“Wait” he said less confidently,
eventually the door opened,
as I crossed the threshold
the door closed
and the air changed again and
I breathed easily once more,
Tarvey remained red
a time for wits was upon me,
the unknown beckoned me to follow,
down darkened hallways.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




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

Tuning A Clarinet – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Tune – RDP Sunday






Tuning A Clarinet

She carefully put the mouthpiece
to her lips
and blew gently
her warm breath filling the barrel,
while her fingers pressed lower down
to raise a deep note
circulating the air
so that the blackwood swelled
giving a higher note
the instrument now ready.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, music, poem, Quadrille

Our Phoenix – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Elemental – Word of the Day

30 beautiful phoenix artworks,3d,abstract,line drawings and oil paintigs (1).jpg

Image: (found at)


Our Phoenix

Just a commonplace really,
in any mundane moment
in an ordinary week
something happens,
that we crash and burn
returned to ash
only to rise
again and again,
yet never realising
that our phoenix is no bird
but resilience,
rising from the millennial dust
of our lived days.

©Paul Vincent Cannon




Filed under Free Verse, life, Mythology, poem

The Longest Walk – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Walk – RDP Saturday


Photo: The Hull River, NT, usually a dry river, but a raging torrent if heavy rains come, behind me is Lasseter’s Cave.


The Longest Walk

Days of dehydrated confusion
heat boiling my blood
the camels had bolted
their pegs loosed and broken
and only the Pitjantjatjara people
knew what to do,
they led me along the Hull River
to the Tjunti soak
and put me in a cave
shaded, watered, and fed,
Old Wart watched over me
while the old women brought me food.
But that reef is calling
and I’m so fevered for gold,
barely able to stand
I set off yet again
driven, determined,
but little did I know, though,
in my bones I sensed it,
this next short walk
would be my longest.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


Note: Lasseter, who alleged that at 17 yrs he’d found a 16 km gold reef in the outback, came to grief on his expedition in 1931 to reestablish its whereabouts. His companions were away and he was alone when his camels spooked and bolted, taking the water and food with them. The local indigenous found him nearly dead, and cared for him, laying him up in a small cave on the Hull river. Weakened, he set off on foot again, walking 55 kms eastwards and collapsed and died. He was 51 yrs old.


Filed under bush walking, Country, Free Verse, history, life, poem