Tag Archives: Pantoum (non-rhyming)

The Feeling – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo by Giuliamar at pixabay.com

“Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.” Paul Theroux

The Feeling

I can see how that flowed into my life,
the feeling that winter has possessed me
with unexpected gratitude for respite,
a stepping back from the brazen sun.

The feeling that winter has possessed me,
leading me along a mindful hibernation,
a stepping back from the brazen sun
with time to be quiet and ruminatious.

Leading me along a mindful hibernation
through completely different connections,
with time to be quiet and ruminatious,
a curious collect of creative experience.

Through completely different connections
with unexpected gratitude for respite,
a curious collect of creative experience,
I can see how that flowed into my life.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Never Noticing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: publicdomainpictures , pixabay.com

“It is the one who can think of no alternative to their enslavement who is truly a slave.” Wendell Berry (adapted)

Never Noticing

So many have surrendered and demand to be managed,
chained to the dulling process of quiet self-degradation,
shovelling their own graves in their algorithms of complicity,
never noticing the simple freedom of gulls and wrens.

Chained to the dulling process of quiet self-degradation,
a self-imposed exile alienating the beating heart of life,
never noticing the simple freedom of the gulls and wrens,
the conversations of trees and shoreline waves lapping.

A self-imposed exile alienating the beating heart of life,
forgetting the joys of wholeness and the stirring of passion,
the conversations of trees and shoreline waves lapping,
the triumph of gnosis over the beauty of creativity.

Forgetting the joys of wholeness and the stirring of passion,
shovelling their own graves in their algorithms of complicity,
the triumph of gnosis over the beauty of creativity,
so many have surrendered and demand to be managed.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Ineffable – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Art Core Studios, pixabay.com

“The mystical is not how the world is, but that it is.” Ludwig Wittgenstein

Ineffable

Mystical schizophrenia harboured in a singular mind,
not hard to explain like the simplicity of a zen koan,
an ineffable experience like sunsets without words
self dissolving into presence as I feel everything.

Not hard to explain like the simplicity of a zen koan,
washed in the gentle streams of one's thoughts,
self dissolving into presence as I feel everything,
this is the way things are with an open heart.

Washed in the gentle streams of one's thoughts,
floating on air like a dandelion seed content,
This is the way things are with an open heart
knowing that I am simply moving in any direction.

Floating on air like a dandelion seed content,
an ineffable experience like sunsets without words,
knowing that I am simply moving in any direction,
mystical schizophrenia harboured in a singular mind.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under life, mindfulness, Pantoum, poem, quote, Spirituality

Why Do We? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pxhere.com

“I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole.” Carl Jung

Why Do We?

Why do we persist in eradicating every hint of shadow,
will it free us from the fear we hold of the night of soul,
the austerity of indifferent stars in darkened skies,
are we unable to bear the heavy echoes of silence.

Will it free us from the fear we hold of the night of soul,
that we might let go the points of our past compass,
are we unable to bear the heavy echoes of silence,
which speak loudly into the rusted patterns of our lives.

That we might let go the points of our past compass,
ever exposed to fleeting glimpses of the real
which speak loudly into the rusted patterns of our lives,
interrupting calcified thoughts no longer valid.

Ever exposed to fleeting glimpses of the real,
the austerity of indifferent stars in darkened skies
interrupting calcified thoughts no longer valid,
Why do we persist in eradicating every hint of shadow?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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No Trace – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Brush-Tailed Possum, found at Australian Geographic and credited to http://www.shutterstock.com

“I often think that the night is more alive and more richly coloured than the day.” Vincent Van Gogh

No Trace

The urgent demand of the fading burnished light,
a call to notice the melodies of feathered friends
and coppered tones of boughs and leaves,
intense revolt against the close of darkest night.

A call to notice the melodies of feathered friends,
the crackling of dry grass as possums pass,
intense revolt against the the close of darkest night
runs riot unseen across lawn and canopy.

The crackling of dry grass as possums pass,
a seething highway or wriggling, crawling life
runs riot unseen across lawn and canopy
where no trace remains at dawn's first soft glow.

A seething highways of wriggling, crawling life,
and coppered tones of boughs and leaves
where no trace remains at dawn's first soft glow,
the urgent demand of the fading burnished light.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under Free Verse, nature, Pantoum, poem, quote

The Big Questions – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: shutterstock.com

“…. identity is performatively constituted by the very ‘expressions’ that are said to be its results.” Judith Butler

The Big Questions

What are the narratives that matter most of all,
how do they form and shape our fragile lives,
and, when do we know ourselves as ourselves,
is fate our lot or, is fate a story about our lot.

How do they form and shape our fragile lives
these harbingers of unseen inner truths,
is fate our lot or, is fate a story about our lot,
what is it that we think we know of knowing.

These harbingers of unseen inner truths,
we must learn to live with what we have created,
what is it that we think we know of knowing,
is this the demise rooted in our blindness.

We must learn to live with what we have created,
and, when do we know ourselves as ourselves,
is this the demise rooted in our blindness,
what are the narratives that matter most of all?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

16 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, identity, life, Pantoum, philosophy, poem, psychology, quote

Subtle Shades – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Peter is hosting Meeting the Bar with an invitation to circular and repeating forms of poetry.

dVerse Poets – Meeting the Bar – Coming Full Circle

Photo: found at overnature.com

“I like the night. Without the dark we ‘d never see the stars.” Stephanie Meyer

Subtle Shades

Time carries a vulnerability within itself,
especially where night evolves the ground livens
in ways unlike the transparency of day,
where all is documentary for perception.

Especially where night evolves the ground livens,
all is mystery, or at the very least, uncertain,
where all is documentary for perception
of all that is unseen and released imagination.

All is mystery or at the very least uncertain,
less familiar in the subtle shades of shadow,
of all that is unseen and released imagination,
the things of darkness are so heartfelt.

Less familiar in the subtle shades of shadow,
in ways unlike the the transparency of day,
the things of darkness are so heartfelt,
time carries a vulnerability within itself.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Where Are The Stories? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: givingcrowd.co

“And suddenly you know: it’s time to start something new and trust the magic of new beginnings.” Meister Eckhart

Where Are The Stories?

Where are the stories of your beginnings?
Do you know the place where they reside?
Are they black and white or many colours?
Where do the go late into the night?

Do you know the place where they reside?
Surely they are sacred treasures of heart,
where do they go late into the night
when all is quiet in the shining darkness?

Surely they are sacred treasures of heart
so neatly scattered in chaotic patterns,
when all is quiet in the shining darkness,
except the loud constellations of love.

So neatly scattered in chaotic patterns,
are they black and white or many colours?
Except the loud constellations of love,
where are the stories of your beginnings?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Allowing Ourselves – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found at shutterstock.com

“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” Sir Edmund Hilary

Allowing Ourselves

Changing our relationship with the past,
refusing to keep it alive in the present,
the embers of yesterday are passing,
allowing ourselves to dwell in possibility.

Refusing to keep it alive in the present,
not letting the incomplete shape us,
allowing ourselves to dwell in possibility,
accepting the strange value of ambiguity.

Not letting the incomplete shape us,
stepping back from self-defeat and doubt,
accepting the strange value of ambiguity,
creatively embracing silent imperfections.

Stepping back from self-defeat and doubt,
the embers of yesterday are passing,
creatively embracing silent imperfections,
changing our relationship with the past.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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That Train – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“Railway termini are our gates to the glorious and the unknown.” E. M. Forster

That Train

The train of creative questions pulled into the station,
disbursing openness and opportunity like spilt milk,
offering succour for those ready to drink its ideas
and embrace a future soon to be remembered.

disbursing oppenness and opportunity like spilt milk,
parting the mists of close indifference and fear,
and embrace a future soon to be remembered,
untelling the stories that limit and hold us prisoner.

Parting the mist of close indifference and fear,
to face the near reality our naked selves,
untelling the stories that limit and hold us prisoner,
knowing that love is unconditionally ours.

To face the near reality of our naked selves,
offering succour for those ready to drink its ideas,
knowing that love is unconditionally ours,
the train of creative questions pulled into the station.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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