Category Archives: psychology

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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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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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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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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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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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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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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A Peel To Life – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Peeling

Mish at dVerse has invited us to write a quadrille (44 words) on the subject of peel.

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Photo: dreamstime.com

 

“We are all engaged in the task of peeling off the false selves, the programmed selves, the selves created by our families, our culture, our religions.”  Anais Nin

A Peel To Life

Thin, worn metal strikes at flesh
seeking linear planes,
a redemption of flawed living,
smoothing the blemishes of
disappointment, the scratches
of indulgence so neatly scored,
circumcising the fibre of experience
for the juice of possibility,
sacrificial peeling to the
gods of new life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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The Greater Distance – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Art: Quint Buchholz – ‘Giacomonde – The Moon We walk’

“We are going to the moon that is not very far. Man (sic) has so much farther to go within himself.”  Anais Nin

The Greater Distance

What is a distance,
how is it measured,
in streams crossed
or in dreams?
But at least there I can
begin the journey proper
for which my body is willing,
a place where I can
take that leap of faith
into the unconscious.
I could reach the moon,
that part is so simple.
But can I reach into my
deepest self,
the hidden, denied part,
so cleverly recast
as the outer self,
a sweet deception,
a lie that must be unravelled,
the greater distance.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Usurped – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Word of the Day – Devil

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Photo: http://www.alternet.org

 

“Too many of us now tend to worship self indulgence and corruption.”  Jimmy Carter

 

Usurped

The devil took the high ground
and kicked Christ to the kerb,
the saloon bar erupted,
nothing like this before,
the incarnation kid was
clearly out of sorts,
stumbling like a drunkard through
the wide berth of the crowd,
he fell upon the ropes
as the whistle called time out
his coach could see the problem,
confusion clouded eyes
usurped by strange love,
that bit of love your neighbour
was spun to love yourself.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

31 Comments

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