Photo: pexels.com
A Spell Of Tea
So still,
spindle and needle lie forlorn,
your breathing so shallow,
you awaken from the longest slumber
with the aroma of fresh Darjeeling.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
A Spell Of Tea – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Filed under Five Lines, life, poem, poetry, Uncategorized
Aced By Love – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Squash or racquetball, depending where you live, is, in my view, a skilful ricochet or rebound game. If you look closely, you will see a trajectory line showing an impending shot.
Aced By Love
Confused, I looked around,
I swear I saw a reflection,
I craned and there you were,
left of field.
You flashed a smile,
it ricochetted every chamber,
my heart aflutter.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, love, poem, poetry, Uncategorized
Silence Of The Trolls – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Photo: pexels.com
Silence Of The Trolls
Your hand hovers over the keys,
to abuse, or not to abuse,
a momentary question,
lost in the lust for gratification,
a gas-lighter’s delight
mayhem and pain,
sowing the seeds of doubt
like a hot knife
to the heart of the unsuspecting.
But I have discovered your weakness,
I hold my silence to your hand.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, poem, poetry
One Thing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Cargotecture – one of many options now coming on-stream across the world, as reported in 2013 Homeless Housing
One Thing
Wearily he closed the door
and slumped on the floor,
the day had wandered,
and, like a bloodhound,
he knew every pavement
as he walked the daylight away,
just waiting for the night-shelter.
No alcohol allowed,
but that didn’t matter,
nothing could pacify the haunting
that devoured his mind and seared his heart,
diminishing every fibre of him.
The tears no longer came,
he was empty now,
but he had one thing, a calling,
to know the pavements who walked with him.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
There Goes The Herd – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Photo: parikiaki.com
There Goes the Herd
Daisy was on point,
and as ever, she led the way.
“Where are we going?” asked Betty?
“I’m not sure said Daisy,
but the nice man who always gave us hay said,
there’s this other nice man who’ll take us
to a very special place.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
A Pocket Full Of Stars – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
See also:Stellar
A Pocket Full Of Stars
As I left the pub,
brimful of expectancy
I looked up, and,
as I sometimes do,
I nodded in deference to the stars,
a toast to the sentient beings beyond my ken.
And I reached up and grabbed a handful of mystery
so sparkly, light, and effervescent.
And it occurred to me,
that there’s nothing better in all the world,
than a pocket full of stars for my true love.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
The Forge Of Vikings – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Photo: norway.nordicvisitor.com
The Forge Of Vikings
There was a time,
long before we breathed in this place,
when the sea had cleft our mountains,
and before long, we rested there,
our souls forged of its very nature.
Then the sea and the oak formed a pact,
and the long boat came to be,
together we made our way across the seas.
At home we were blacksmiths, farmers, woodsmen,
but on foreign shores we were beserkers,
fearless, bringers of terror and death
as we plundered our way into history,
all the while the fjords a fire in our souls.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Same Old – A poem by Paul Vincent Cannon
Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, authors of the Communist Manifesto, published circa February 1848, and which sparked many political and economic debates, and not just a few revolutions.
Same Old
It was that kind of day,
when I could finally speak paradox,
between the corner store
and the park.
It was there I heard
the suit encased optimist’s manifesto,
from the podium,
“yadayadayadayadayadayadayada”
with only a momentary pause.
The man behind me asked,
“Can you splain that mate?”
And, I said, “Sure, it goes like this;
lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies,
but it came out as,
paradise, free bread, equality,
love and peace.”
Then the woman in front said,
“You know, we already have all these things,
they’re a manifesto of your heart.”
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
Filed under Free Verse, poem, poetry, politics
Knowing
Photo: pexels.com
Knowing
If I could kedge your mysterious depths,
that I might navigate safely,
the channels of emotion
that course our veins,
and so, not risk the reefs of disappointment
and wreckage of love.
To fathom your feelings,
to know for sure,
that I am yours.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Note: Kedging is the old art of guiding a sailing ship into bays and channels using a longboat to row ahead and plot a safe course and drop an anchor allowing the ship to pull itself against the anchor and move the course safely. It helped many a tall ship avoid running aground, or hitting a reef. The method is also used to rescue ships that ran aground, technically using the anchor as a lever to pull against, thus setting the ship free.
Paul,
pvcann.com
Was It Really Love?
Imelda May (celebs101.com), singer, musician who is accomplished in blues, jazz, and rockabilly. In my mind, a visual definition of voluptuous.
Was It Really Love?
Warm Juno,
luscious Venus,
curved angel of delight,
with Lucifer upon your lips,
revenant of my dreams,
flame of my youth,
was it really love?
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
