Tag Archives: dVerse Poets

November 24, 2020 · 4:06 pm

To Feel Again – a Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Kim is hosting Haibun Monday, inviting us to to write about our sense of wonder. dVerse Poets – Haibun Monday

Photo: Grass Tree (Xanthorrhoea), State forest, Mundaring.

“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.” John Burroughs

To Feel Again

Here in this place there is a sense of hope. To feel nature making her own way with a lush offering is a sensual privilege, to see to touch, to feel, to taste. The divinest of lovers. She is there, waiting, unmarried, mistress to no one. Waiting for all to come and sit alongside her charming soothe.

There is life in this place like no other. Even in that rotting humous, especially there, there is an abundance of life bursting before my eyes. Even in the dry rustling carpet, tenants and squatters alike come to feast, to produce life and to surrender it.

This is a place to be, just that, to be, to feel again, to be me, to be one of, one with, this crowd. Here I can connect, be grounded once more.

Where the grass tree grows
comes spring looking at me
I fly like feathers

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 20, 2020 · 2:43 pm

The Eve – Haiku by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Meet The Bar and inviting us to write a death poem, Jisei – Haikai, Haiku, Tanka, Senryu, etc.

dVerse Poets – Meet The Bar – Jisei

Image: pixabay.com

“There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.” Beverly Sills

The koi are less lived
in my lotus dreams of night
the eve I long for

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 18, 2020 · 2:23 pm

Held – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics and has invited us to write about eyes.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Look Into My Eyes

Photo: pexels.com

“Tears are the silent language of grief.” Voltaire

Held

I offered a word of unction as
soothe in the hard litany of life's
steal of breath that you held in
that moment of discordant caverns
and clawed violins as the world 
slipped over its own edge,
and your eyes declared a pulsing
reach of heart that awakened
in a welling of bearing held
between us in a knowing,
sharing, through solitary to a
lifting connect, diminishing the
awful theft of happiness, 
a restorative without need of 
voice, just deep eye-felt
conversation.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 17, 2020 · 2:40 pm

The Possibility Of Her – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, De is hosting the Quadrille ( a poem of 44 words) using the word or any of its forms – possibility. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Possibility

Photo: shutterstock.com

“Life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream.” Alfred de Musset

The Possibility Of Her

Carefully crafted, she was a
composite of every fiction,
his pulse quickened,
anticipating the possibility of
her arrival, the creaking door
announcing her, now hovering,
conversing only in tongues,
his tortured lips in flames,
he woke, lost in a fug
as the door creaked.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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

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November 13, 2020 · 3:16 pm

In The Crush – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Linda is hosting Open Link Night, when we post our own choice of poem.

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

Photo: istockphoto.com

“The years are too short, the days are too long.” Joseph Heller

In The Crush

The day's tide elongated my hours
like thick, slow squeezed lemon,
the juice of a day in the crush of
a hand now flexed and dripping.

Like thick, slow squeezed lemon
with a mess of acid citrus down,
a hand now flexed and dripping
so much a tap of flowing water.

With a mess of acid citrus down,
the day simply drizzled along,
so much a tap of flowing river
along the moments so tart and,

The day simply drizzled along,
the juice of a day in a crush of,
along the moments so tart and,
the day's tide elongated my hours.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 11, 2020 · 3:21 pm

Just Let Her Speak – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Peter is hosting Poetics and has invited us write a poem as witness (to a news event or an event).

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Poetry as Witness

Photo: Luke Stephenson, ABC News – Australian PM Scott Morrison interrupts Senator Anne Ruston who was asked about the culture of misogyny in the Australian Parliament, therefore ironically proving the point. The PM has long been questioned about his attitude to women. The question was set against the background of a public outing of government ministers who have had relationships (affairs) with their staffers (therefore a power relationship).

“Misogyny is hostility toward the women who threaten to remove the male status as superior to women.” Jill A. Stoddard

Just Let Her Speak

She appeared dressed for the microphone,
I even saw her lips move in pantomime,
but you voiced her down,
wrapping her in shrouds of misogyny,
swaddled her in your patriarchal goitre,
and gave your words to her lips
as you pigeon-chested the throng
with your smirk faced denouement,
a coda of lament for the poor boys
whose groins yearned for possession
of skirted public property,
how could you possibly listen
let alone reflect,
you members of parliament erect,
she appeared dressed for the microphone,
just let her speak.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Misogyny:  from the Greek misein (μισειν) hate + gyne (γυνε) woman.

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November 10, 2020 · 4:14 pm

There I Really Am – Prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery where we are invited to write 144 words including a provided line. Merril has given us a Liesel Mueller line from her poem ‘Drawings By Children’ – “There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.’

dVerse Poets – Prosery

Photo: pixabay.com

There I Really Am

There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles. I claimed it long ago, it is my favourite space, but it just takes time to get there. It’s not that I’ve forgotten the way, it’s just simply that I don’t make enough time to wander there. But days come when I have to be there. It’s the space where I find my still point and enter into silence, well, mostly. Somedays my irascible shadow is less than golden and flings up the dust and detritus of my life as a taunt, a distraction. If I pay no attention it doesn’t go away, so I let it have a little reign until it outruns itself and peters out and I return to myself. There is nothing behind that wall except the real me letting the winds of time whistle through me.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 6, 2020 · 3:48 pm

Spiced As Wise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar and she has invited us to write a poem working with grapheme colour synesthesia.

dVerse Poets – Meeting The Bar

Photo: unsplash.com

“The colour yellow is a mystical experience shared by everybody.” Tom Stoppard

Spiced As Wise

Orla wandered a new 
beginning trusting herself to this 
new path with an optimism born 
of moonlight where she yellowed 
a glow from her very centre 
that radiated so golden,
spiced as wise cumin to be 
lavishly bestowed on all the 
suns in the orbit of her generous 
aching flames bursting upon the 
scene beyond mellow fields,
seeking beyond hue to the
crackling of possibility.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: I am stronger at hearing and feeling colour than seeing it in letters. The name Orla is Celtic and can be translated as Golden Princess. O is my starting point as O is yellow and so it goes.

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November 4, 2020 · 3:08 pm

Emerging – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about November, which in the north is Autumn while in the south is Spring.

dVerse Poets – Poetics

Photo: ‘Southbourne’ farm, Bakers Hill, the drive to the shearing shed.

“Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?” Neltje Blanchan

Emerging

Velvet cinnamon nights,
swirl-tongued around feelings
twined with gilt laden stubble
in halo vested fields where
warmth seeps into my bones,
restoring the ravages of winter's
scars once again, nested with 
feathered joy and such vaulted
awakening as if chrysalis like,
taking first breaths in a new
scape novembered almost, 
but not quite as before,
emerging adventitiously 
as no other.


©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 3, 2020 · 3:08 pm

I So Choose – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting the Quadrille and her invitation is to write (44 words) about happiness or a form of the word.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Happiness

Photo: travelchannel.com

“Happiness is a matter of one’s most ordinary and everyday mode of consciousness being busy and lively and unconcerned with self.” Iris Murdoch 

I So Choose

The waves crashed in rolling the shore
like worn carpet in displaced surrender,
revealing troves of shiny detritus 
unrelated in my minds eye, yet in my
perceiving I teased out the synchronicities
which were there all along, waiting for my
happiness to be chosen.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

35 Comments

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