Category Archives: psychology

November 10, 2020 · 4:14 pm

There I Really Am – Prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery where we are invited to write 144 words including a provided line. Merril has given us a Liesel Mueller line from her poem ‘Drawings By Children’ – “There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.’

dVerse Poets – Prosery

Photo: pixabay.com

There I Really Am

There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles. I claimed it long ago, it is my favourite space, but it just takes time to get there. It’s not that I’ve forgotten the way, it’s just simply that I don’t make enough time to wander there. But days come when I have to be there. It’s the space where I find my still point and enter into silence, well, mostly. Somedays my irascible shadow is less than golden and flings up the dust and detritus of my life as a taunt, a distraction. If I pay no attention it doesn’t go away, so I let it have a little reign until it outruns itself and peters out and I return to myself. There is nothing behind that wall except the real me letting the winds of time whistle through me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 3, 2020 · 3:08 pm

I So Choose – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting the Quadrille and her invitation is to write (44 words) about happiness or a form of the word.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Happiness

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“Happiness is a matter of one’s most ordinary and everyday mode of consciousness being busy and lively and unconcerned with self.” Iris Murdoch 

I So Choose

The waves crashed in rolling the shore
like worn carpet in displaced surrender,
revealing troves of shiny detritus 
unrelated in my minds eye, yet in my
perceiving I teased out the synchronicities
which were there all along, waiting for my
happiness to be chosen.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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July 13, 2020 · 12:29 pm

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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June 9, 2020 · 3:37 pm

Two Hearts – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

Merril at dVerse has invited us to write a piece of prose using the words “We go in different directions down the imperturbable street.” by Gwendolyn Brooks.

dVerse Poets – Prosery






Photo: businessinsider.com.au










“How weird it was to drive streets I knew so well. What a different perspective”  





Two Hearts





Should we go in different directions down the imperturbable street we might discover a confusion of serenity that, in fact, all is not what it seems. In my view all is chaotic fulmination, voices ringing off concrete, the air thick and potent with energy, only to be swallowed in the humous of bordered gardens as dusk ensues, waiting for dawn. In your view, all is serene and in its place, a stillness and a quiet resolve of patient ferment pervading the air. It just happens to be that we are going the same way, though in very different directions down the same street. Somewhere in the parallel journey we find the middle line without looking. There’re no surrendering views, just two trapeze artists in a shakedown in the kingdom known as middle road. Life is richer that way. Two hearts are better than eyes.





©Paul Vincent Cannon

			

	
	

		
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		May 17, 2020 · 5:09 pm	


	
And Danced -a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
	

		
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Photo: unsplash.com


 


“You can’t look back; you have to keep looking forward.”  Lucy Liu


And Danced


This has been a real moment,

it was always coming, though

not as you might think,

destined in some way,

though on reflection perhaps,

to examine my heart and

gather in the desert

of my soul and refresh,

to ask, was it as it should be?

The world I mean,

where the mythical beast Normal

clamours for attention,

coming to life in habits,

thriving in routines and

growing fat on drudge,

it was after midnight in the

courtyard of dreams

that I lanced that beast

and danced.


©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul, pvcann.com

			

	
	

		
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		May 2, 2020 · 2:51 pm	


	
Release From Prism – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
	

		
RDP Saturday – Identity


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Photo: pixabay.com


 


“I am aware that I am less than some people prefer me to be, but most people are unaware that I am so much more than what they see.”  Douglas Pagels


Release From Prism


By what prism am I,

that uneven self of self,

a composite of conventional norms,

or the spaces of my daily habits,

layers of false true selves

a rare glimpse of the who

I am and am not,

never really defined, though

partially admitted nine to five,

but ever incomplete,

arriving at myself time and again,

to change would be to risk the

imperfection of the who

I am becoming.


©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul, pvcann.com

			

	
	

		
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		April 2, 2020 · 3:46 pm	


	
Cradled – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
	

		
RDP Thursday – Lonely


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Photo: north of Laverton.


“Loneliness can be conquered only by those who can bear solitude.” Paul Tillich


Cradled


I craved the silence

until it crashed hard against me,

leaving me breathless for more,

wanting to run from the precipice

of that dance of paradox,

wanting not wanting,

having, resisting,

taking a leap,

being caught up by those

non-existent arms,

cradled against the lonely,

held within the chaos,

safe in my uncertainty.


©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul, pvcann.com

			

	
	

		
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		April 1, 2020 · 5:11 pm	


	
Red Line – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
	

		
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Seeing Red


Sarah at dVerse has invited us to write a poem about the colour red.


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Photo: unsplash.com


“If you accept the expectations of others, especially negative ones, then you will never change the outcome.”  Michael Jordan


Red Line


She wasn’t sure why

red had always unsettled her

in ways she couldn’t quite speak,

though she knew an answer

lurked deep within,

she put the book down

and occupied the window,

distracted, sighing,

trying to locate her feelings

which the red line had evoked,

a teacherly line,

forbidding, shaming,

a smallness crept in,

she felt it in her skin,

exposed to the world again.

A bird lighted on the sill,

now engrossed,

undone,

she left red

for another day.


©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul, pvcann.com

			

	
	

		
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		March 16, 2020 · 2:43 pm	


	
My Drug Of Choice – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
	

		
Word of the Day – Kick


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Photo: wallpaperup.com


“Honour women! They entwine and weave heavenly roses in our earthly life.”  Friedrich Schiller


My Drug Of Choice


Suppine,

arched,

short breaths,

ragged,

slowing,

dissipates,

assuaged,

and the moment passes,

though your eyes

offer playback,

you,

my drug of choice,

and as much as I might try,

you’re the habit

I can’t,

don’t want to

kick.


©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul, pvcann.com

			

	
	

		
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		March 14, 2020 · 2:21 pm	


	
I Held The Storm – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
	

		
RDP Saturday – Calm


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Photo: pixabay.com


 


“In the madness, you have to find calm.”  Lupita Nyong’o


I Held The Storm


I was tearing at the curtains,

ribboned through my hair,

threshing on the floor

husks like dust

tearing at my flesh,

caffeine hazed

whiskey fused

spitting chips,

eyes like darts,

a shadow ninja

slicing the air,

razored veins

and narrowed eyes,

such a lie,

my face serene,

an exquisite calm

with which I held the storm.


©Paul Vincent Cannon


Paul pvcann.com

			

	
	

		
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