Tag Archives: Free Verse

January 15, 2022 · 1:54 am

How, Not What – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: by geralt at pixabay.com

“No wonder it comes as a relief to be reminded of your insignificance. It’s the feeling of realising that you’d been holding yourself all this time to standards you couldn’t reasonably be expected to meet.” Oliver Burkeman

How, Not What

Once, long ago, I asked about time,
what was it I wondered, and this was 
solved by a second hand, everything
a chronology, boxed and streamlined,
leaving me dis-eased, feeling disordered,
out of place, yearning for a sacred 
loitering, a soaking of space, awaiting
an unfolding, and I realised my question 
had changed, how was time?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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January 14, 2022 · 12:39 am

Grickle Grackle – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Bjorn is hosting Meet the Bar with an invitation to Narrative Nonsense

dVerse Poets – Meeting The Bar – Narrative Nonsense

Photo: from a stock video by motionarray.com

“From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow.” Aeschylus

Grickle Grackle

Grickle grackle mawn
spreads glow across hills,
all bark and tweet until the
coming of the mungled breath 
of Boreas does break the 
spines of groves, and darks 
the valleys so with the 
pickle packle puddles of
thin hope, shreds of life
crackle and push of green
arrives through the sponge
of this munged quaggle.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights Reserved ®

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January 12, 2022 · 11:35 pm

To Put Away My Eyes – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: one of the many nature reserves around Augusta and the Blackwood River this one has the grand title of No. 8437.

“The earth has music for those who listen.” William Shakespeare

To Put Away My Eyes

To put away my eyes for a moment
and take in the sounds underneath,
to let go the synthesis of shoe and fabric
my internal words so loud and allow the 
trees to soften the noise, making way for 
sounds of life, tinkling water, creaking bows, 
leaves pattering to the ground, birds warbling,
insects buzzing to and fro, all singing into
this moment where meaning is irrelevant but
everything is understood.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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January 12, 2022 · 2:23 am

The Christmas Cake – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about food.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Food

Photo: from holidappy.com

“Cooking and baking is both physical and mental therapy.” Mary Berry (especially the eating bit 😉 )

The Christmas Cake

I watched her begin before she began,
feeling her way to the fruit of her labour,
she catches time,
reading the path,
finding her rhythm,
crossing over,
rediscovering the way,
mind-stepping the space,
pausing in the bite of her lip,
I saw her frown of concentration
in the lines of her cheeks,
an intentional meditation of parts,
a meld of heart and love,
no sooner is the room drunk on rum
like a bell has been rung,
than the air is filled with 
salivatory expectation,
she smiles now.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights reserved ®

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January 11, 2022 · 1:58 am

To Be Mused – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write about or play with the idea of the muse.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Muse Cues

Photo: State Forrest, Mundaring, I was keen to follow the trail – where will it go?

“…. poetry is an autonomous muse ….” Alice Walker

To Be Mused

Have you ever been mused
by an inviting path or the 
one who catches your eye, 
a delicious word in a bowl of soup,
what of rain dances or cloud smiles,
sun skips and creek beds,
a series of fortunate dalliances
stir my seeking heart.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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January 10, 2022 · 4:46 am

What It Is – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Christin Hume – unsplash.com

“Beauty is hidden in everything, just learn how to observe.” Ritu Ghatourey

What It Is

What is a day,
is it thought, constructed, made,
or is it just there, always with me,
waiting to be seen, to be noticed,
because it's tucked away in a petal,
or a spade, in a planter or at the gate,
I can tell you this though, it is held
in conversations, looks and smiles,
it just has to be collected in words
to be held as sacred meaning, yet
to be delved.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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January 8, 2022 · 10:53 pm

What If I Didn’t? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by Daria Shevtsova from Pexels

“Sleep is the best meditation.” Dalai Lama

What If I Didn't 

What If i didn't 
finish that email or hit send,
or make the bed, or get to
work on time, or even turn up?

What if I didn't eat dinner
or take a shower, or answer
the phone when it has rung
six times (same number)?

What if I didn't sweep my path
or wipe the sink, or do the 
washing, or pruned the vine,
what if I just stayed in bed?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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January 8, 2022 · 1:11 am

But There It Was – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

“Don’t mess with the boxes just yet ….” from Murval

But There It Was

In my mind it was in the medium sized box,
but on further investigation it wasn't there,
so I tried the big box, the other big box, 
the little box, and nothing, retracing my 
steps, memories flooding back, different 
space same experience, always the hunting,
almost certain, confused, tired, hopeful,
almost giving up, but there it was, right at
the bottom of that first box.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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January 6, 2022 · 1:47 am

Diving Still – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: alchetron.com – a swimmer (or diving) beetle. We have a swimmer beetle in our pond.

“One of the huge imbalances of life is the disparity between your daily existence, with its routines and habits, and the dream you have within yourself of some extraordinary satisfying way of living.” Wayne Dyer 

Diving Still

I thought she could see me,
the reason she darted away,
but no, she came back to the
surface and darted away once 
more to the deeps of the pond,
looking for morsels in her 
trip along this biosphere,
up and down all day long,
smooth glides fast and slow,
and when at eve I retired I 
wondered if she was diving still.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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January 5, 2022 · 6:56 am

Dereliction Of The Unthinking Herd – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics – Exploring the realm of French literature … with an invitation to write in the style of a Rimas Dissolutas (Dissolute Rhyme) or write about French ideals or culture. for more detail click the link below.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Rimas Dissolutas

Photo: libertysociety.com

“There is a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part, you can’t even passively take part ….” Mario Savio

Dereliction Of The Unthinking Herd

The world right now is a dangerous place,
though the danger is not what you'd think,
it's not in adventures and risking as such,
more dereliction of the unthinking herd.

To ask a question with a serious face
is a risk far greater than a poisoned drink,
even worse than a kick in the crutch,
never stand in the way of a crowd absurd.

Government proles spout facts without trace,
while angled cameras show a discernible wink,
as they gather the trusting in a gleeful clutch,
so well inured by their clever, smirking word.

Thinking aloud comes at a cost without grace,
ever the loud who would swallow you in a blink,
frightened of your unboxed thoughts too much,
they rally at your every thought with curd.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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