Category Archives: relationship

The Aunt – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by Toni Ferreira from Pexels

“Well-behaved women seldom make history.” Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

The Aunt

She was cool when I was nine,
all cigarettes and wine, much to
my mother's chagrin, and worse,
she was accused of trying to be
Jacki O, scandalising my puritan 
mother with tales of affairs and 
raw lust that were fun to eavesdrop 
even if they weren't completely true,
but as they say, where there's smoke 
there's fire; when I was twelve she 
was all bikini and laughter, the best of 
hosts, the life of the party, unlike the 
mausoleum gathered around her;
when I was fifteen she liked to tease,
all topless and conversed excitement,
and the days drifted as did time,
until one day, a note said she'd gone,
the eulogy said lover of life and I
guess she gave me some.



Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Woven Connection – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com



“Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” Robert Frost

Woven Connection

Sweetness and terror push against each other
in warm waves of delicious intense confusion 
that wave my heart about in giddying flourishes,
catapulting me senseless in unexpected feelings,
leaving me so light I began to float away from you,
until you reached out and wove our fingers together
in a constancy of connection that holds me still.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Only Ever – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: sujuphoto pixabay.com

“All real living is meeting.” Martin Buber

Only Ever

What did you notice around you today,
and what stirred within you as you noticed?
Perhaps a deficit occurred, knowing what
was missed between the noticing not 
noticing, but isn't that just part of it all, 
part of the awareness of the whole, of self,
the knowingness of the way we are, the 
way life is, just so, knowing that the 
knowing is incomplete is surely the good
part, we can never know until we know
through other, another, and not just 
ourselves, we are only ever ourselves
in the presence of other, but then, I'm 
sure you noticed that long ago.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Who Is This? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: i.huffpost.com

“There are a hundred roads through the world that are easier than loving. But who wants easier?” Mary Oliver

Who Is this?

Who is this who speaks to you of love,
when all is fractured and fragmented 
and love itself has become so vulnerable
to the predation of romantic blasphemy.

When all is fractured and fragmented
we are such a mixture of joy and grief,
to the predation of romantic blasphemy,
will love beyond shame be possible.

We are such a mixture of joy and grief,
expressed in a language that moves us,
will love beyond shame be possible,
is meaning completely lost in this world.

Expressed in a language that moves us,
and love itself has become so vulnerable,
is meaning completely lost in this world,
who is this who speaks to you of love?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Imperfectly Perfect – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Nesting

Photo: Yellow Throated Honeyeater with young. Found at animal.memozee.com

“Where thou art, that is home.” Emily Dickinson

Imperfectly Perfect

She takes the very strands of life and
weaves them carefully to a harmonic of 
held space for everyone who arises, or 
ventures here of a warm welcome to the 
heart of the journey, enfolded in the 
energy of her love lived in collaborative
purpose, that all may one day follow her
weave, imperfectly perfect, with just a 
hint of gold thread and where there are
no locks or chains.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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She Walked Lightly – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting poetics with an invitation to write laundry poems.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Put Your Words On Spin Cycle

Photo: http://www.thespruce.com

“Abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behaviour.” Victor Frankl

She Walked Lightly

Slowly she emptied the white enamel 
reliquary of all that was his and, like a 
crow, she picked over the bones of his
cottoned life, stored memories lodged
deep in her body, the dissonance of
happiness and sadness washing over
her in one slow wave as the sun 
warmed and opened her to feelings
held tightly in her chest, now aired,
set free, at last she walked lightly 
back to the verandah for the first 
time since that day when everything 
closed in and nothing seemed normal.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The Canvas – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write in response to painting titles. Of the five title choices I chose the first: “A Painter Without A Brush” by Gerhard Richter (2019)

dVerse Poets – Poetics – The Poet As Painter

Photo: found at freepic.com

“Many painters are afraid of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the painter who dares and who has broken the spell of ‘you can’t’ once and for all.’ ” Vincent Van Gogh

The Canvas

The canvas stared at him long,
taunting him, daring him to move 
sans brush upon its surface,
he stared back smilingly happy,
slowly he undressed and rolled
up his shirt and soaked it in paint,
and frenzied it across the silent
canvas, all at once, fingers, arms,
legs, with every inch of body, he
kissed and caressed that canvas
with a language of colour rarely 
seen in any conversation or
heard on any palette of note.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Only We – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – I’m learning (together we grow)

Photo: Adina Voicu pixabay.com

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” Rumi

Only We

Even together we are incomplete, incongruous,
unlikely conspirators in the mystery of life,
betrayed by a singularity poised by suspicion
and a boundaried protection of all that is sole,
the furnace of time smelts a truth of other 
in the wrestling and wrangling of all that is plural,
where the sense of oneness is shared in other,
and where autumn leaves and summer sun, tiny wrens,
moments of wonder, kisses and home truths, shared 
dreams and existential questions would hold no 
meaning, besides, with who would I share these
seeming pathetic vignettes, only we make meaning
of these ordinary treasures.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The Dream Jewel – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Mylene, pixabay.com

“Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.” Lord Byron.





The Dream Jewel

Where is the jewel I dreamt
in this sea of ordinary stones,
where shines the emerald, the 
ruby, on this dusty plain,
I searched everywhere and I
looked long and hard down
lanes and valleys, hoping for 
some seeker's sign to point me
on my way, until that day, a
perfect day, a glint shone 
through the melancholic dust,
the most precious jewel I'd 
ever seen, she held me in 
her beauty, a beauty deeper 
than the eye perceived.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Exhaling Hope – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: the wallpaper.co A fractal – never ending and infinitely complex patterns that repeat across scales. They exist between our familiar dimensions.

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Martin Luther King Jr. (which he borrowed from Theodore Parker)

Exhaling Hope

Fractals of compassion,
microscopic beauty
clear to the naked eye in
the everyone journey of justice,
bending that arc and 
shortening its awaited time,
holding ourselves accountable
for neighbours of every 
living kind, that all might
breathe as we breathe,
inverting mindlessness,
exhaling hope.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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