Tag Archives: dVerse Poets

But Her Smile – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Peter is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to write a poem that changes mid way or at its end.

dVerse Poets – Meeting The Bar – Middles and Turns

Photo: static8.depositphotos.com

“All things truly wicked start from innocence.” Ernest Hemingway

But Her Smile

She played
everything in a minor key,
a high pitched dirge
for Sunday sins,
her primness a badge
of spinsterish anxiety
and determined moral
salvation wrapped in tweed
and ancient hairpins,
no one saw it, but her smile
belied her Friday nights
of wanton vixen over pints
and chips and sly thigh,
her ancient shiver of sigh.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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She Was – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Laura is hosting Poetics with an invitation to paradox using inspiration from two sources, my choice is Paul Dunbar.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Beyond Meaning or The Resolution of Opposites

Photo: st2.depositphotos.com

“I am the fool in the morning, thou art my slave in the night.” Paul Dunbar (The Paradox)

She Was

Dressed of innocence in the light
she revelled as mistress by dark,
when maxis gave way to minis in taxis,
water surrendered to whiskey, and
walk gave way to strut and swagger
of rounded hips, explicit though hidden,
between cotton and leather, though
lace was ambivalent and undecided,
her breathtaking purity as decadence
or sultry vamp as coy as a maiden,
she was as enigmatic as any code
yet unbroken though known.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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To Go – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting Quadrille with an invitation to use some form of the word Go!

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Going, Going, Gone Poeming

Photo: Sam Carter, at unsplash.com

“Without reflection we go blindly on our way ….” Margaret J. Wheatley

To Go

To be or to go,
do I need to go,
do I want to go
anywhere at all,
the mountains in the 
distance called me to 
their high places, but I 
preferred to go to the 
valleys of my heart
and dwell in presence.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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I Wanted To Shout – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about an aspect of colour. dVerse Poets – Poetics – True Colours?

Image: wallpapersafari.com

“Black is like a broken vessel which is deprived of the capacity to contain anything.” Leonardo da Vinci

I Wanted To Shout

Who coloured the rules of perception
and mood, that we should believe,
my mind ran to blends and melds as
we prepared to lay him in the ground,
his widow insistent that her black
mood of absence paint the sky that
day so that we could feel her abstract
soul while I wanted to shout spectrum
across the air of sorrow that hung idle 
and impotent over us, choking the very
soil awe stood on, and I wanted the 
freedom to breathe a homemade
palette nuanced for all my feelings
rushing like a train.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Which Way? – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Kim is hosting Prosery with an invitation to use a line from the poem ‘The Song of Wandering Aengus’ by William Butler Yeats. The line is: “I went out to the hazel wood, because a fire was in my head.”

dVerse Poets – Prosery

Photo: found at juggernautmc.com

“We have to get used to the idea that at the most important crossroads in our life there are no signs.” Ernest Hemingway.

Which Way?

I wanted to take time with my old friends who were welling up in my chest. Where to in my life now, seemed to be the most pressing question stirring my emotions. I sought the pilgrims trail, so I went out to the hazel wood, because a fire was in my head and heart. Eventually the walk began to clear my head, and then I came to a crossroad, which I received as a question. What now, do I turn at either side or go on, or even stay where I am? What does this mean for me? The Irish gave a word for this, trasna or crossing place, to cross over. It means choosing a move. This fire in me has brought me to a turning point, and I mean to go on. So, which way will I choose, which path will I take?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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That Day – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to write about a time and, or, a place.

dVerse Poets – Meeting the Bar – Setting

Photo: avonadvocate.com the result of the Meckering Earthquake, October 14, 1968.

“An earthquake is such fun when it is over.” George Orwell

That Day

Thinking of that day,
past the cognitive dissonance 
created by voids of time since
my recollection of Hey Jude
and paisley, athletes down in
Mexico, the warmth of spring 
with a holiday sleepiness,
rattled by 6.5 that shuddered
its way into my body in a 
millisecond, before panic set in
and my mother's shriek to run
outside clear of the walls,
adrenaline better than caffeine,
fear driving hearts while news
poured in of little Meckering
pummelled to the ground,
the plaster of our ceiling
shedding dust and the 
windows crackling,
earth rumbling in waves,
shake, rattle and roll,
after-tremors wielding terror,
what can now be trusted but 
open space, in the spring of 68.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Something Ancient – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting Poetics with and invitation to write about Fungi.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Let’s Have Fun Guys

Photo: chinesemedicineliving.com

“Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid of standing still.” Chinese proverb

Something Ancient

Something ancient of generations
speaks from hidden forest places
into my fractured, fragmented life,
of something more than physical,
an awakening expansion of 
abundant life, an elixir of healing,
reishi, the Ling Zhi, bearer of deep
wisdom for all who share its
patient ferment.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Baring Her Soul – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write using some form of the word embrace. dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Embrace

Image: found on pinterest.com via Bing

“It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the moon.” Galileo Galilei

Baring Her Soul

The revelled edge of night's memory
softened to a surreal stillness of
quiet beauty, the calm before the 
passion, the moment of adventurous
eyes seeking the other's horizon of
subtle knowing in delicate movement,
moon smiled, shed her shawl, baring
her soul for embrace.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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My Quiet Treasury – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Open Link Night. dVerse Poets – OLN

Photo: pixabay.com

“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.” Rumi

My Quiet Treasury

I sat inside my quiet treasury of peaceful self
amidst a field of reliquaries sculpted from dreams,
with the eyes of the hidden ones watching closely,
sentinels of the night in communities of acceptance.

Amidst a field of reliquaries sculpted from dreams,
along narrow stone paths of adventure unknown,
sentinels of the night in communities of acceptance
who silently speak in defence of all that is valued.

Along narrow stone paths of adventure unknown
I plumbed the forest's deep guilty pleasures
who silently speak in defence of all that is valued,
and offered as generous joy overflowing.

I plumbed the forest's deep guilty pleasures
with the eyes of the hidden ones watching closely,
and offered as generous joy overflowing,
I sat inside my quiet treasury of peaceful self.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Whispering Suicide – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Bjorn has invited us to write about war. dVerse Poets – Poetics – War Poetry

Photo: Jim Huylebroek for the New York Times

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” Plato

Whispering Suicide

Cheap little saccharine songs for mud,
manufactured jingles to make you numb 
to death, mixed ideologies competing for your 
mind, hollow promises for free, tacky coloured 
rectangles of cloth whispering suicide to the 
flesh of youth who dream of becoming,
who are the heroes in this  moral 
vacuum of life's bitter ebb, where
are the children of this rancid death 
cult now.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

28 Comments

Filed under awareness, creativity, death, Free Verse, life, poem, quote, war