Shedding – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Haibun Monday with an invitation to write about Shelter.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Give Me Shelter

“A house is a home when it shelters the body and comforts the soul.” Phillip Moffit

Shedding

I sought the rusted sheets with popped springhead nails that constituted a place of imperfect refuge, where the wind rattled the loosening sheets with devilish thoughts of crisis, and the rain laughed in penetrating bullets of inaccuracy that threatened reality. The corrie strained and shifted with metallic moans that wrenched my gut as the rain drenched my sense of doubt.

In the shed I shed tears of sorrow as the storm passed both within and without, and I longed for the assurance of summer’s dry calm, that quiet air of warm repose offering slow, delicate thoughts of life so different to this winter of my soul. In letting go I found a peace of incomplete and imperfect arrival, with none of the expected sophistication of a revival of soul, just the plain ordinariness of self understanding.

In the shed I shed my skins of old, like a python letting a season’s past regress, and the salt that burned my cheeks retired. And though the memories are retained I no longer own them. This place of shelter from the elements is shelter from my storm.

Winter's rusted sheets
let water slowly leak in
my soul is hidden


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Letting The Gates Open – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Life is without meaning. You bring meaning to it.” Joseph Campbell

Letting The Gates Open

Making meaning is the gift of myth,
an imagineering of shifted shapeness,
a wasabi like future of inlaid redemption,
minds made and unmade as refolding clay.

An imagineering of shifted shapeness,
the undressing of facades and stereotypes,
minds made and unmade as refolding clay,
remoulding actions as arcade possibilities.

The undressing of facades and stereotypes,
letting the gates open so the horses can bolt,
remoulding actions as arcade possibilities,
creating fluid arcs of understanding.

Letting the gates open so the horses can bolt,
a wasabi like future of inlaid redemption,
creating fluid arcs of understanding,
making meaning is the gift of myth.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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In This Place – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“None of us know all the potentialities that slumber in the spirit of the population.” Vaclav Havel

In This Place

In the slow solitude of empty chairs like
a melancholy wrapped in damp cardboard,
I have been left to close my eyes where
what lies unseen is now revealed
maybe for a hundred years of unwaking,
dissolved into a myriad tones of slumber,
this is the most ethereal place to be,
to be pushed off that inner ledge of 
knowing and landing fully at unknowing,
sensing a profound feeling of belonging
in this place of the wandering spirit.



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Filed under carefree, dreams, Free Verse, life, poem, quote

We Settled For Life – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.” Walt Whitman

We Settled For Life

We settled for the bird song
rather than fill this sacredness
with endless sounds, like 
crashing cymbals, that is the
gum mongering of contention.

We settled for the quietude of
wind scattering leaves around,
rather than rush around the 
clock who is the root of modern
guilt and the asphyxiation of earth.

We settled for sunrise and set,
watching the colour reveals
rather than live a monochrome 
sadness that is the grieving eye
of missed intimacies recounted.

We settled for life as we found it,
being satisfied to breathe,
eschewing all harbingers of early death, 
the psychosis of projected living,
we settled for love.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Since And Again – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Laura is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to choose one of five lines and to invert the line to vertical making each word the beginning of a line for a new poem.

The line I have chosen is “Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.” from ‘Idea 61’ by Michael Drayton.

dVerse Poets – MTB – Vertical Lines of kisses

“I never want to stop making memories with you.” Pierre Jeanty

Since And Again

Since the first time
there's been no holding back,
no sense of moderation,
help me in my distress,
come, hold me closer, tighter,
let us retire to best of
us in every possible way,
kiss me now with thick passion,
and again, again,
part from me never.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under Free Verse, love, passion, poem, quote

To Ponder – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“In an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.” Pico Iyer

To Ponder

The tired chair said rest awhile and
I thought I would sit with you in
this silence of soul as we listen to
our inner confusions and longings,
observe our shifts and feelings of
stored experiences and ponder 
what movements stir in this moment,
and ask why they are barely whispers
along this worn road.

After a time the shadows covered me,
all was deeply quiet and I noticed
that you had gone. Were you there 
at all?

The old dragonfly smiled as it dallied.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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Perhaps It’s The Cypress After All – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse guest host Jo is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about scent.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – A World of Common Scents

Photo: State Forest reserve in Kirup, Western Australia, forests have their own, very complex scents.

“She stood for a long time breathing in and breathing in, the scent of the trees ….” Margaret Atwood

Perhaps It's The Cypress After All

Cypress stirs my body memory,
so too the wattle blossom of winter,
ah, yes, the wet dog after rain at the
salted, seaweed strewn beach remains,
along with cinnamon toast on a cold 
night's mist, the sweat of love pulsing
my inarticulate flesh, simple scents, 
the easy embodiments of youth.

But what of the hidden things,
is there a scent for wisdom or
compassion, is there a scent for 
soul, for reflection? 

Perhaps it's the cypress after all.



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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What Dawns? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write using the word morning or its forms.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Morning Has Broken

Photo: dawn over the Blackwood River, the winter clouds accentuate the sun.

“Every morning is a new arrival.” Rumi

What Dawns?

Sometimes I wish I could hold onto
mornings and slowly sift the feelings of 
possibility that capture a sense of being, 
holding them in a gentle net,
rather than release them into my wild,
to reflect on what it is that dawns 
in me.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Somewhere In The Middle – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Our capacity for self-deception has no known limits.” Michael Novak

Somewhere In The Middle

She tells her early life three ways,
the innocent child who was bullied 
by her calculating brother,
the young teen rejected by her
indifferent father or,
the older teen rescued by her
caring brother,
victim, martyr, sufferer,
and somewhere in the middle of 
it all lies the truth which has been
mangled and pressed down,
like a bitter vintage slowly sipped
until it no longer offends and
tastes sweet in the jumbled retelling,
a mask of normalcy and a ritual
that hides an inability to accept 
the lived experience. 


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights reserved ®️ 

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Tomorrow – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“You can’t strategise falling in love, can You? It’s never worked …. because you can’t predict these things. You fall in love serially.” Meryl Streep

Tomorrow

I fell in love for the first time tomorrow,
a sense of transcending all my yesterdays,
of which little remains and where everything
is experienced as gone, done, and yet
the tomorrows of today are but the 
todays of yesterday, and so I find myself
ever falling in love as if it were for the 
very first time tomorrow which becomes 
today, and then yesterday, but always
tomorrow.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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