#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge
Day 24 24.11.22
prompt: Write a for [blank] poem. e.g. For the sake of the children or, forgive and forget.
For The Life Of Me For the life of me I don't understand how it remains unseen, squashed down, hidden in plain sight, covered over in the sensibilities of a small-minded, bygone era, like a tight, ill-fitting tuxedo, it looks out of place on you, O how I wish you could see it. Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under awareness, Free Verse, life, November 2022 PAD Chapbook Challenge, poem, writing
My poem ‘As Before’ was published recently in the delightful publication Spillwords (which many of you know and read), you can read the poem here:
Kind regards,
Paul
Following through from Monday’s dVerse challenge on writer’s block, which is an interesting topic, and a less interesting experience, though mine have been few and very short lived.
“If you get stuck, get away from your desk. Take a walk, take a bath, go to sleep, make a pie, draw, listen to music, meditate, exercise; whatever you do don’t just stick there scowling at the problem.” Hilary Mantel
Punctuated Tight
At 7.30 something was brewing strong, but it slid into white space at the edge of my mind, a word intermittently blinked as my wiring fizzled, shorting out at 7.35 and my distended sigh was a moan of grief for the lost sentence, words, unfound, blurring into the grey distance , my muse was mute lost in a deep, foggy, field somewhere, I don't know where, no scheme or rhyme occurred, no stanza arose, I was punctuated tight and ungrammared long, the full-stop appeared as a welcome revelation, that all had ceased, my literary boat becalmed. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
Filed under awareness, Free Verse, poem, quote, writing
At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about writer’s block.
dVerse Poets – Haibun – Writer’s Block
“You can’t think your way out of a writing block; you have to write yourself out of a thinking block.” John Rogers
i
The screen mocked my every thought, the arctic white page blinding my eyes as snow on a sunny day, making me squint in the hope of a direction even though I cannot see where I am going. The page an abstracted projection, a freudian note to myself that the page was mirroring my inner malaise of lost consciousness. The page was not unfriendly, we dined together as always. It’s just that the ideas flew past at the speed of sound, refusing to land in my mind. Even the dictionary drowned in my thoughtless fug. But, mercy be, there was the letter i and I’m sticking with that.
circling the blank page my mind in another room the curlew calls me Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Korean cooking, restaurants, and delivery foods
poet and author of The Light in the Cave
A place to freely express emotions and ideas.
Home of Democracy Jones
Man is a self-conscious nothing. ~Julius Bahnsen
"That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works." Psalm 26:7
Welcome to poetry and poetic imagery
📍enthusiasm runs the world
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Korean cooking, restaurants, and delivery foods
poet and author of The Light in the Cave
A place to freely express emotions and ideas.
Home of Democracy Jones
Man is a self-conscious nothing. ~Julius Bahnsen
"That I may publish with the voice of thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works." Psalm 26:7
Welcome to poetry and poetic imagery
📍enthusiasm runs the world
parallax 