Tag Archives: Free Verse

January 20, 2021 · 5:38 pm

Refuses To Limit – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about connection.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Connections

Image: found on huffingtonpost.co.uk

“Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing.” Rollo May

Refuses To Limit

How to frame a conversation that
refuses to limit either of us to the
darkest corners of our words that
run past our meaning, that will not
rest in painful constrictions of 
small words, or weighted by some 
abstraction, smothers the possibility
of speaking without words, to 
silently hold the other in their eyes,
to search the crowd and weep with 
their faces, rejoice with them, feel 
their deepest selves, to understand
the breath we take together in all
its fragility, to simply know.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 18, 2021 · 4:45 pm

We Walk Together – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found on quora.com

“Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the centre.” Kurt Vonnegut 

We Walk Together

I didn't set out to be different or
to speak plainly, or set myself apart but,
the people and places I inhabit are the
geographies of the borderlands, life at the 
margins, where camel hair is fashionable
and locust with wild honey is a delicacy,
and truth pales to insignificance where
unspoken trust is second nature and no
one is judged for being themselves
because, although we walk in different 
directions, we walk together on the 
fringes of life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 17, 2021 · 1:38 pm

Suddenly The Kitchen Was A Zoo – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: still from the original Jumanji movie – monkeys in the kitchen scene – found at hookedonhouses.net

“In cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.” Julia Child

Suddenly The Kitchen Was A Zoo

Suddenly the kitchen was a zoo,
salamanders and elephants everywhere,
rolling and roiling in a raucous ruckus
scrambling to lick the laden spoon.

Salamanders and elephants everywhere,
the centre island no longer a refuge,
scrambling to lick the laden spoon,
too many cooks spoiling the moment.

The centre island no longer a refuge,
flour in the air, the oven on fire,
too many cooks spoiling the moment,
just trying to feed the monkeys.

Flour in the air, the oven on fire,
rolling and roiling in a raucous ruckus
just trying to feed the monkeys,
suddenly the kitchen was a zoo.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 16, 2021 · 1:43 pm

No Surrender – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

For a double dare by Beverly Crawford, and with sympathy for Jane Dougherty, following my poem The Next Dance.

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“There is a grandeur in winter, stern and wild it may be, but a grandeur which speaks to the soul.” CJ Peterson.

No Surrender

The sly cocktail dress sits sublime in ice
upon the line all formal and smooth,
while my dungarees have actually taken shape
as if possessed by a ghost, all stiff and 
starched, no wrinkles or sag like the sack 
of potatoes they normally pose draped upon me, 
the ice has claimed the denim and holds it in 
its steely grip as if fit for Ned Kelly's last 
stand where there will be no surrender until
the sun breaks free.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 15, 2021 · 1:23 pm

The Next Dance – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to personification and imagery.

dVerse Poets – MTB – Personification and Imagery

Photo: sierraclub.typepad.com “The Right to Dry Movement”

“But what about those windy spring days? You know the drill, you fight the sheets onto the line. Then the wind catches them and makes them want to sail into the next country!” The Texas Homesteader

The Next Dance

Sick of line dancing, she wanted
to cut loose with a tango or a foxtrot,
even a rouge can-can would do it and,
once safely pegged, she gave herself to the 
sea breeze throwing her legs up, her head back,
tossing her skirt about with laughter just like 
linen flapping in the wind, and soon the others
joined in the fun, swirling and twirling
along the good time, refreshed and waiting 
for the next dance in the sun.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 14, 2021 · 3:12 pm

Below The Culture Line – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Black Cockatoo Reserve, Mundaring

“Without stories, the land turns to real estate.” Mark Abley 

Below The Culture Line

When time was local the land had a story
rich in the beautiful greys of paradox,
carefully nurtured in mutual surrender,
we touched under the pulsing canopy.

Rich in the beautiful greys of paradox
we slipped below the culture line,
we touched under the pulsing canopy,
a language unspoken so openly felt.

We slipped below the culture line,
searching ourselves for beginnings,
a language unspoken so openly felt
as to be present in each other.

Searching ourselves for beginnings,
carefully nurtured in mutual surrender
as to be present in each other,
when time was local the land had a story.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: The concept of time shifted in the mid 1800s to a broader sense of time as universal, prior to that time was local.

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January 13, 2021 · 1:23 pm

And I Float – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – What pulls on your soul?

Photo: pixabay.com

“You are an aperture through which the universe is looking at and exploring itself.” Alan Watts

And I Float

Where the wild iris blooms by itself,
in the deep forest of my unmask,
where my heart runs white water,
my mind surrenders to gladsome song.

In the deep forest of my unmask
all attachment falls to the ground,
my mind surrenders to gladsome song,
and I float as a peace dove sails.

All attachment falls to the ground,
its redemption uncertain in this humous,
and I float as a peace dove sails,
a feathered turtle in the sands of time.

Its redemption uncertain in this humous
where my heart runs white water,
a feathered turtle in the sands of time
where the wild iris blooms by itself.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

24 Comments

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January 12, 2021 · 3:18 pm

A Spade Is More Than Itself – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mist is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem describing an object.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Object Poems

Photo: harpersnurseries.com

“All my hurts my garden spade can heal.” Ralph Waldo Emerson 

A Spade Is More Than Itself

This is a story maker,
a dream builder of futures,
of kingdoms and complex lives,
weeding out the inconsistent
lines of irrelevance and tedium;
this is a creator of new things like 
turning over one's life and 
planting seeds of posterity,
to be remembered  among the 
vines of hope distilled as love;
this is my father, my family, my
friends, my neighbours and
with each thrust a memory
comes and grows.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 12, 2021 · 2:12 pm

Be It Pen, Key Or Brush a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille with an invitation to write using the word or its form – dab.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Dabbling In Poetry

Photo: pixabay.com

“Creativity takes courage.” Henri Matisse

Be It Pen, Key or Brush

Not everything must be real for its own sake,
licence is better in every art in the telling of a
story, more colour, or less, provokes a reaction,
a narrative of broad strokes and dabs be it pen,
key or brush, touches me deeply.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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January 10, 2021 · 1:12 pm

To See – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: perfectness.ca

“Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.” Diane Ackerman

To See

The mirror sets up a silent but knowing
conversation of self, a soap opera thinly
disguised as drama now exposed to all
of myself to see what others see beyond
the image of heavily invested self-deception,
masking myself to self, but the mirror shifts,
begging the eternal question, what is good, 
what is bad, to which I have no answer,
knowing only that things just are and I just 
am and not only today, this is somehow a 
moment, an epiphany, that sustains.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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