Category Archives: Quadrille

Cinereous Beauty – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write about ash.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Ashes to Ashes

Photo: lahacienda.co.uk

“In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix must first burn.” Octavia E. Butler

Cinereous Beauty

I went down to the pit of shame
and sat in the ash now cold, now
penitential, itching my skin as it was 
supposed to do, but not forgetting 
that ash left long in the ground turns 
to coal, which sometimes turns to
diamonds.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

Note: Cinereous refers to a colour – grey tinged with black – of ash. To sit in ash and wearing sackcloth goes back historically to ancient semitic culture, and predominantly to Hebrew culture as a mark of grief, penitence or shame.

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Of Things Past – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write about the word linger or any of its forms.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Linger

Photo: an old Ford truck – part of the history of Kookynie and mining.

“Grief is the agony of an instant; the indulgence of grief the blunder of a life.” Benjamin Disraeli

Of Things Past

The past lurks in the present,
intensifying the sense of wanting
to restore, heal, the original 
intention once the pride of purpose,
now a felt grief, an if only, raising the
question: can we overcome the grief
of things past that linger within us?


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Astro-logical – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De has invited us to write a Quadrille (44 words) on some form of the word heart.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille- Heart

Photo by luizclas from Pexels

“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born ….” ee cummings

Astro-logical

There is no dys in the topia of 
my heart where you're concerned,
your ample fullness fills my
darkly mind with tingled pulses of
rhythmic, to the bone sensatiopns, 
that caffeinate my hours with a 
cornucopia of luminous astrologia
that simply makes me dizzy.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Leaving Me Wondering – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: along the beach at Leeuwin.

“The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling.” Lucretius

Leaving Me Wondering

Water loved you wet,
bathing your roughened pain,
revealing your inner smooth,
toned, grain to my careful eyes
of wander along your skin so
warm holding the sun, nestled 
together against the tide of times,
leaving me wondering how you 
knew to be here.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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As Before – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to use the word or its forms – Smudge.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Smudge

Photo: The point where the brook feeds into the ocean – Ellensbrook – its indigenous name is Mokidup.

“The land knows you, even when you are lost.” Robin Wall Kimmerer

As Before

The wind pierced me so
in beautiful ways, of which
words fail in the telling;
clouds painted the sky,
touching your rays and I
took them by the hand,
knowing, as before, your
joy would wash the earth
and smudge my soul with
gratitude.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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The Joy Of The Mellow – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to use the word or its forms – Curiosity.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Curiosity

Photo by Monstera from Pexels

“Contentment is the greatest form of wealth.” Acharya Nagarjuna

The Joy Of The Mellow

I pass no judgement,
(and yet, of course, I do)
details are never important,
though to be curious is never
to be shamed, rather, celebrated,
as points of departure from the
sameness of repetitions,
as for grief, while aware, I'm
incuriously embracing the mellow.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Between – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to use the homograph wound in both its forms.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Wound

Photo: Adobe stock – found at – simplemost.com

“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” Rumi

Between

The love wound wound itself around my 
heart sharp, like a cilice, offering exquisite 
devotional pain, and the more I wrestled 
with the feeling, the more it gripped the 
whole of me leaving me between the 
pain of regret and the joy of desire.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Some Need Fire – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write using the word seed.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Seed

Photo: a shot from the Beelu National Park, Mundaring, this section was last control burned about three years ago, thee regrown understory is great to see.

“The heart is like a garden. It can grow compassion or fear, resentment or love. What seeds will you plant there?” Jack Kornfield

Some Need Fire

The magnitude of a seed is mostly 
only noticed in death, in dying it 
rises not once, but many times, 
some need humidity, or damp 
mixed with dark, some need fire
to release their souls, which makes
me wonder what nurtures me to grow.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Finally – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Jarrah Loops Trail, autumn.

“Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.” George Eliot

Finally

Autumn finally arrived,
although it was already quietly
lurking in the corner of my eyes,
having slept in, ignoring summer's
alarm well past the expected,
slowly disrobing to bare limbs
and those austere, rosy tones,
precursors to winter's grey wilds,
and cosy, snug hibernation.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Want Some Bother? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to use the word bother or some form of it.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Bother

Photo: istockphoto.com

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” Sun Tzu

Want Some Bother?

The bar humming good,
a well oiled crowd humoured up,
but you know how it is, a slip, 
a nudge in innocent times,
he went off, threatening all in
his path until one leaned in
with a steely eye, "ere', you
want some bother?"

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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