Category Archives: psychology

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

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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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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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The Very Game – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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“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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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





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“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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“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

27 Comments

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