Category Archives: seasons

November 30, 2022 · 4:52 pm

A Mere Sequence – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting poetics with an invitation to write an ekphrastic poem offering a choice of four artworks. For more detail follow the link below.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – The Landscape Sleeps, Ekphrastic Prompt

I have chosen to work with John Atkinson Grimshaw’s ‘A November Morning’

“There is harmony in autumn, and a lustre in the sky ….” Percy Bysshe Shelley

A Mere Sequence

Autumn strips me bare,
my body crisp and cool,
like my footfall on a cinder lane
as I jar along the road of bones,
a calendar of seasons,
now arrested in dapple
for the briefest fleet,
a mere sequence in the scheme
unknown to mortals,
evidenced only by the falling leaves
who whisper until I notice that
nothing is permanent and,
how light I am.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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October 4, 2022 · 3:46 pm

Floating Away – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting the Quadrille with an invitation to write about track or any form of the word.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Track

Photo: Mollerin Rock, the trail is scant.

“If you never get off-trail you never discover new landscapes.” Maxime lagace

Floating Away

I love where the track narrows,
restricting, though never constricting,
the pilgrims of hallow advance,
not seeking to overcome or consume
the weight of material living and,
once entered, discovering that
everything floats away like
harvest husks on a dry breeze,
seeking new pastures.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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August 3, 2022 · 3:35 pm

Enduring August – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem about August.

Of course August differs across the globe and I live in Australia (which has its own variations) so a great opportunity to say something of August from the south.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Sometimes August Isn’t Recognised

Photo: August 3, 2022 – Cape Leeuwin below the lighthouse, the storm is ending, power is out, temp has plummeted, rain increasing and yet there is a beauty to it all.

“In our opinion August is not the best time to visit Australia ….” Weather & Climate

Enduring August

August,
yes you, you cold bastard,
rattling loose my roof sheets,
knocking down my fences,
wounding my beloved trees,
flooding my private spaces,
leaving me sleepless, worried,
stressed, heart pounding with
every shrill screech of your
forceful breath on my eaves
and panes of fragile protection,
I yearn for your end 
and pray for gentle spring,
while enduring your bitter and 
splintered wintry grief.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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June 21, 2022 · 4:02 pm

Stilled – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write about the summer/winter solstice depending on which side of the equator we live.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Solstice

Photo: Winter clouds make for accentuated sunrises over the Blackwood River.

“One way of celebrating the Solstice is to consider it a sacred time of reflection, release, restoration, and renewal.” Sarah Ban Breathnach

Stilled

For the first time in a long time, a very long time it seems, I have simply stopped completely for a few days. I no longer miss my race around the sun to make meaning for someone else’s fortune, I long to make meaning for my own. there is something precious about distilling the day, spending time in recollection at evening and savouring the good moments, panning for the gold of the day.

There is a wonderful feeling that comes with stopping, slowing, taking time, knowing that the horizon is there, but also knowing it can wait. The wisdom of age is knowing when to stop, slow and take time, and when, even how, to move again and in which direction and when to be excited by a new horizon. For as surely as the earth turns, new horizons are aplenty. Right now I am still and awaiting my next step.

The world is turning
humans race to the finish 
stillness brings blossom


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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June 18, 2022 · 3:13 pm

Blown Away – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found at familyhandyman.com

“The wind shows us how close to the edge we are.” Joan Didion 

Blown Away

Today I noticed the wind which
came whipping at my door and
pushing against my windows,
I saw it sway the trees and throw
waves against the sand,
I want to be enveloped in that wind,
to be pushed and thrown to new
places and experiences like
autumn leaves lifted from a path,
taken beyond to the unexpected.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 24, 2022 · 3:53 pm

Summer – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun (prose plus haiku) with an invitation to write about summer.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Summer

Photo: ratemds.com

“Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.” Sam Keen

Summer

From my youngest days this has always been a time when the earth catches fire, when my skin burns and I can feel the strength of the air around me pushing down as it falls to the ground. My breathing is heavier , though I move from shade to shade I cannot escape the heat of this day. Even the cicada chorale chant at the sun is to no avail, the light blindsides me bouncing off every surface, dazzling, relentless.

It feels like a furnace, the garden bows after noon, the bitumen is melting, my shirt is dark down the middle of my back. But this is no time for whingeing, this is the time to pack away the winter blues, open the windows, throw off my layers, sit out at night watching the stars, light the BBQ and party like there's no tomorrow.

The sun is rising 
house is already on fire
but there is no smoke


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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April 12, 2022 · 3:52 pm

Until Then – Prosery by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Prosery with an invitation to write a piece of prose (144 words) including a line from ‘A Daughter Of Eve’ by Christina Rossetti. The line is – “Talk what you please of future spring and sun warm’d sweet tomorrow.”

dVerse Poets – Prosery – When it comes to Christina Georgina Rossetti

Photo: by Daniel Grant, from timeout.com Hyde Park, Perth, Western Australia, autumn.

“Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.” Elizabeth Bowen

Until Then

Talk what you please of future spring and sun warm’d sweet tomorrow, but today my mood is mellowed by autumn dews, russet leaves and memories falling into me again. A season of funereal beauty, so easy on my eyes, yet unsettled in my heart. Many leaves now carpet the earth, old and turned often with little to add, save that they hint at something more to come which temporarily coddles me. I just can’t see that far ahead, and in some ways I don’t want to, no one season is experienced like its previous appearance, it can be anticipated but never presumed, longed for but never known until it chooses. Until then I must winter well, reflect and refresh. Spring will come in good time but for now I sit closely with greying skies and misty dawns that challenge my complacency again.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

All Rights Reserved ®

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April 5, 2022 · 3:23 pm

Unspeakable – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting the Quadrille (44 words)with an invitation to write a poem using some form of the word season.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Tis The Season

Photo: Early autumn in Deepdene, red gums shedding.

“Autumn is as joyful and sweet as an untimely end.” Remy de Gourmont

Unspeakable

The seeds of my tangled life are sown 
along the edge of autumn's invitation,
a propitiation for all that is yet to arise,
an imaginarium of coloured experiences
only the sense can speak, a whelming
of the darkened cave transcended in
spring's awaited consolation.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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February 2, 2022 · 1:56 pm

Spring – a Haiku by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to engage with the Japanese (derived from Chinese) 72 seasons and to write a haiku based on – Sekki as major season and Ko as minor season within the major. For in depth information click the link below for dVerse and further links.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – One of Seventy-two Seasons

Image: from behance.net a slice of the 72 Japanese seasons.

“The night air was soft and laden with the redolence of impending blossoms.” Meeta Ahluwalia

My choice of major and micro season are: Sekki – Spring; Ko – Risshun (beginning of spring). Damsel flies are an early sign of spring, there is both joy in the coming of spring and sadness that winter is going (because it is fleeting – which means, ergo, that spring is also short lived). The fireplace empty means spring is here, a different nuance.

Spring

Damsel flies buzzing
sadness and joy are intertwined
fireplace is empty


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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February 1, 2022 · 12:54 am

The Unfolding – a Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting the Haibun with an invitation to write about winter.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Winter

Photo: from a couple of years ago, a winter storm rolls in on the south west corner of Western Australia – Augusta, where two oceans meet. The waves sure were thundering in. Visible is the historic waterwheel which fed fresh water to the Lighthouse community behind me. If you look real close there’s a gull on the wooden channel atop the wheel.

“In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.” William Blake

The Unfolding

Hitchcockian howl growl winds push water into thunderous demolition of delicate sands, forever changing the face of this coastal scape. Plovers have retreated to the high dunes, gulls and terns have taken refuge. Tomorrow it will slow and the next day it will settle, but nothing will be the same. Every bruise irrevocably changes the fundamental fabric of this tapestry I look upon. Torn limbs and trunks strewn, the line of sand permanently altered, rocks covered or exposed.

The singular delighting indulgence is to brave the aftermath and the cold and walk the littered beach of treasures, shells, driftwood, someones things, the sadness of a dead fish. The gulls scree once again, plovers skitter along and crabs scuttle as if nothing has happened. There is at once a horror and awe at the sheer force of it all, and in both there is the child's eyes.

skies darkening low
wind wraiths storm tender soft sands
trinkets offered up

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