Category Archives: psychology

All In A Second – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.” Voltaire

All In A Second

Doubt, 
that husk building woodworm
who creeps carefully under my
glittering self-sureness,
taking its time,
waiting for the right moment 
to slot into my thought train,
leaving me in a gently unsettled
anaesthesia, disoriented, and 
without a map, all in second,
until the winds of reasoned
calm push aside the shadows
letting the sun in once again.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Those Moments – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write about ice, or one of its word forms.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille

Photo: cottonbro studio at pexels.com

“Dread is a sympathetic antipathy and an antipathetic sympathy.” Soren Kierkegaard

Those Moments

There are moments forever
in my throat where my heart resides,
moments touched by conversations
eavesdropped from my past,
a knife,
felt a fist,
the phone call,
that crash,
he'll be alright
the ambulance is here,
chills run and
my spine turns to ice.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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The Eyes Have It – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“I’m convinced we all are voyeurs.” David Lynch


The Eyes Have It 

The eyes see
but the heart and mind battle interpretations,
setting agendas
making perceptions;
on any one day something, anything
might repeat never to be received the same,
always a turmoil of filters and contexts,
what once might be sublime
at a turn in time might just be ordinary,
after all, objectified life is still subjective
like when a glimpse of intimate longing occurs -
is it so simple and mundane, innocent,
a nothing
an invitation to memory,
perhaps a reminder (to buy some roses)?
The eye sees,
the mind remembers,
the heart plays its hand as it will.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights Reserved ®️ 

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The Shattered Dream – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Withhold admiration from a narcissist and be disliked. Give it and be treated with indifference.” Mason Cooley

The Shattered Dream

When it all just sits unmoving, 
like a clog of hair in a drain,
and no amount of hoping will 
move it or restore the flow,
knowing that when something 
is broken beyond repair,
it cannot be put back together as 
you once dreamed it would,
in that child's wistful eye,
the mountain of dysfunction 
that will never be surmounted,
leaving us all waiting for the
moment that will never come.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Heading Home, Not Lost – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem using at least two titles from a selection of pod-cast titles.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Are You Listening?

Image: Graehawk at pixabay.com

“The moment of change is the only poem.” Adrienne Rich

Heading Home, Not Lost

It was as if I was never there,
I spoke and no word would leave my mouth,
those I knew turned away from me,
I was but a stranger in their presence,
no place felt like home,
though I was not lost
nothing seemed to fit, 
nothing made sense anymore,
nothing was as before,
and so I embraced it and
went home by another route.



Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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What Emerges? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self.” Aldous Huxley

What Emerges?

Something emerges
between the dry grass of noon
and the last notes of an overture,
as the last of the spirit is imbibed
in an evening of introspection,
that single moment in which
the sole possibility arises
where our past watches with regret,
and how do we respond knowing
our submission is death and
hypocrisy brings censure,
do we offer objection,
see more clearly the 
self in the world
and our part in all that is?
What is met in this moment?



Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Invitation – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“The patterns we perceive are determined by the stories we want to believe.” John Verndon

Invitation

As we consume time for
yet another trip around the sun
the question remains,
revolve or evolve?
Revolve begs that we attend to 
our underlying repetitions,
the patterns we pretend don't exist,
that we keep hidden in the shadows
so that we can't see them,
though the whole world sees them
and smiles that we pretend.
Evolve invites an unknown,
the departure lounge for
places of no visa,
transcending pathologies,
landing in true self.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Once More With Feeling – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“What you seek is seeking you.” Rumi

Once More With Feeling

What are we talking about when we talk about desire?
Perhaps I have already lost you in a haze or eroticism
as you drift to boudoir and silken sweat,
pardon me if I interrupt your subjective memoir,
but isn't desire an infusion of everything,
the good, the bad, even the mad?
A repeating nudge to have,
most likely something out of reach,
beyond our capacity to control,
the last item, 
the bird to be caged,
a luxury lust,
surely desire is more than love,
isn't it both murder and possession?
A response to suggestion,
a marriage of icons,
fictions of sensate memories,
idealised intensities of wanting.
More than that,
isn't desire a return to feeling in a world 
that has fallen into disinterest and anxiety.



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Revision – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.” Carl Jung

Revision

For over a decade
almost standing still,
an eternal prologue
lived in a kind of conformity
unwilling in a
culture of good taste
until,
finally,
profound changes,
fragmented self recognised,
at last dreaming long
of a shift between dark and light,
words laid bare
out of thin blue air,
yet to settle, 
yet to speak,
sifting the codes for directions
before they fade
into a decade.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Was I? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: vivienviv0 at pixabay.com

“My grief lies all within.” Richard ll (William Shakespeare)

Was I?

Was I
acting out all those years
when contention was the main course,
when the presenting narrative was
dressed, nurtured anger,
the defence of victim
in the guise of one wounded,
worried, caring, burdened, concerned,
responsibility assumed,
how smooth, how blind, how real,
perfectly flawed,
what was I hiding, distracting,
what was I wanting, needing,
is that how I was?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under awareness, grief, identity, poem, psychology, quote, shadow