Tag Archives: Free Verse

November 25, 2022 · 2:26 pm

Is Life Always Having To Reduce To Mere Frippery? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

One for two:

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 25 25.11.22

Prompt: Write a serious poem

Also submitted to dVerse Poets – OLN hosted by Grace – the night we choose a poem to submit.

Is Life Always Having To Reduce To Mere Frippery?

Is life always having to reduce to mere frippery,
those ice cream feel good moments invoked
to ward off anything approaching a taxing frown,
or wrestling an unresolved disquieted question?

Those ice cream feel good moments invoked
as stave for anything that would reduce laughter,
or wrestling an unresolved disquieted question
that awakens in the recesses of my mind.

As stave for anything that would reduce laughter,
whatever comes to hand will do for combat
that awakens in the recesses of my mind,
rather than face the seriousness that perches there.

Whatever comes to hand will do for combat
to ward off anything approaching a taxing frown,
rather than face the seriousness that perches there,
is life always having to reduce to mere frippery?



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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November 24, 2022 · 3:09 pm

For The Life Of Me – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 24 24.11.22

prompt: Write a for [blank] poem. e.g. For the sake of the children or, forgive and forget.

For The Life Of Me

For the life of me I don't understand how
it remains unseen,
squashed down,
hidden in plain sight,
covered over in the sensibilities of a 
small-minded, bygone era,
like a tight, ill-fitting tuxedo,
it looks out of place on you,
O how I wish you could see it.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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November 23, 2022 · 2:14 pm

Aphrodite In A Glass – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Punam is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write about whiskey or alcohol in some form.

dVerse Poets- Poetics – Cheers

Photo: Nadin Sh at pexels.com

“Too much of anything is bad, but too much whiskey is barely enough.” Mark twain

Aphrodite In A Glass

Velvet tango,
slow, slow,
seductive,
a voluptuary,
warm,
smooth,
the heat of soothe,
to be sipped with intention,
rolled around the tongue,
swallowed with care,
strangely, 
it is masculine named
or geographically placed,
and yet in my experience,
whiskey is more subtle,
feminine and
called Aphrodite.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights Reserved ®️

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November 22, 2022 · 3:13 pm

Love Is – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 22 22.11.22

Prompt: write a love poem

Love Is

Love is in the mundane,
it inhabits the ordinary that passes between two people,
it is more that the sum of physics,
surpasses metaphysics,
shines brighter than any halo of the special,
dines out on lunal turns,
spins with the excitement of the what ifs,
dwells in continents of unity,
is only found in understandings rare,
communicates only through the eyes,
knows madness, sorrow and joy,
wraps limbs,
savours lips,
remains uncaptured yet forever tied,
love is the truest fiction made real,
even just for a second.



Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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November 21, 2022 · 2:10 pm

Release Button – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 21 21.11.22

Prompt: Write a poem using at least three, or all of six provided words.

The words are: button, gather, hold, not, sweep, toxic.

Release Button

My fingers on the 
button that would gather and 
hold the skirt allowing it to flare 
in a beautiful sweep of shapely thigh,
not like those toxic tents of yesteryear 
that would hide an entire village,
these wisps of cloth fire the heart and 
lift imagination leaving one feeling 
completely alive.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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November 20, 2022 · 1:58 pm

Dark Dilemma – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 20 20.11.22

Prompt: Write a conflict poem

Dark Dilemma 

He shared some home truths
and in the middle of it all,
dropped a complete bomb,
that one spine chilling moment,
the darkest of comments,
like a razor along the vein of life,
such a bloody anticipation,
yet he still thought to ask
for anonymity,
complete confidence,
never to tell a soul,
that he was checking out,
but I needed to make that call.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights Reserved ®️

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November 19, 2022 · 3:19 pm

The Myth Of The Good Politician – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 19 19.11.22

Prompt: Write a poem about The Myth of [blank]

The Myth Of The Good Politician 

My vote, my vote
for a good politician,
morally outraged,
definitely sincere,
a revolutionary,
maverick,
savvy intellectual,
underdog,
survivor,
empathic leader,
caring (of course),
historic voice,
visionary,
collaborative player,
inclusive,
a legend,
there's bound to be one out there
I just haven't found them yet,
but if you know where they are,
please let me know so that 
I can pinch their face and
make sure they're real.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

14 Comments

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November 18, 2022 · 3:26 pm

A Grave Situation – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 18 18.11.22

Prompt: Write a funny poem.

A Grave Situation

Umbrellas for the funeral,
dress shoes clogged in mud,
the reverend stepped forward,
kept going,
sliding,
collecting the coffin along the way,
down they went with a splosh and thud,
a grave situation you must admit,
came the JCB,
came the ambulance,
came the funeral director,
life belts in a flood.
Seems the hole was too small,
the coffin wedged,
the pump had failed and
the whiskey priest flailed
to the bottom with dear mama.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

6 Comments

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November 17, 2022 · 12:40 pm

What If? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 17 17.11.22

Prompt: Write a risk poem

What If?

The likelihood, 
the possibility of the consequence of an outcome,
beyond the insurance sales person's caramel voice,
or the indulgent sentinel parent's selfish shrill lie,
maybe the well meaning cheer squad of a loved one,
that one should hang the worry,
cast fate to the wind,
have a go,
take a leap,
besides, what could possibly happen,
and if it did go wrong, would it matter,
but what of the ignominy,
the bare exposure of the fail,
or the grief of the miss,
it wouldn't be the public gaze,
simply my interior knowing
that the risk might,
could, result in my own sense of failure.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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November 16, 2022 · 2:26 pm

Dead Panel – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 16 16.11.22

Prompt: Write a panel poem

Dead Panel

Waiting for the tow truck
camped at the bar,
all the old guys suddenly experts,
it'll be this, it'll be that,
bound to be the transmission
or any of the myriad parts
named by those old guys,
my sister had one of those,
followed by thin recommendations 
of what to do solutions,
it's probably the carby 
said with mechanical gravitas,
truck arrived after the chorus
with mechanic in tow,
after which a verdict was offered,
the computer panel had died,
now the old guys are silent.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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