Tag Archives: Pantoum (non-rhyming)

May 13, 2023 · 12:50 pm

When We Look Back – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image by vargazs from Pixabay

“I fall in season and now is a time of ripening.” Denise Levertov

When We Look Back

When we look back over our lives
I wonder what it is that we'll remember,
the things we were present to,
or will it be the things we long for?

I wonder what it is that we'll remember,
a life we discovered or invented,
or will it be the things we longed for,
things that enable us to bloom and ripen?

A life we discovered or invented,
developed our wisdom and character,
things that enable us to bloom and ripen,
mindfully taking each step as it comes.

Developed our wisdom and character,
the things we were present to,
mindfully taking each step as it comes,
when we look back over our lives. 


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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May 1, 2023 · 2:38 pm

Slumbering On – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“Security is the denial of life.” Germaine Greer

Slumbering On

The human mind is geared to atrophy,
at the very least to a yawning apathy,
the long sleep of ignorant participation,
accepting the easy benign status quo.

At the very least a yawning apathy,
a chloroform state of victimhood,
accepting the easy benign status quo,
keeping the ocean placid around boats.

A chloroform state of victimhood,
drowsy stupor of denial upon denial,
keeping the ocean placid around boats,
making sure no wave can rock.

Drowsy stupor of denial upon denial,
the long sleep of ignorant participation,
making sure no waves can rock,
the human mind is geared to atrophy.


Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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February 13, 2023 · 3:11 pm

To think That We Believed In White Hats – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found at listverse.com

“Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with.” Brodi Ashton

To Think That We Believed In White Hats

Some time ago I wandered that dark path
where heroes habited the edge of things,
calling down the easy answers of repertoire 
a spandexed phone booth solution beat.

Where heroes habited the edge of things
sans comic violence they were cheesy,
a spandexed phone booth solution beat,
always on time, always within reach.

Sans comic violence they were cheesy,
to think that we believed in white hats,
always on time, always within reach,
tilting the world right at every turn.

To think that we believed in white hats,
calling down the easy answers of repertoire,
tilting the world at every turn.
Some time ago I wandered that dark path.


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon 
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January 29, 2023 · 1:55 pm

The Tenuous Nature Of Knowing – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: StayaPrem at pixabay.com

“Nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.” Oscar Wilde

The Tenuous Nature Of Knowing

Fragments of dreams scattered like confetti
through the brown paper parcels of my life,
strands of meaning needing to be sifted
carefully as flour through a fine sieve.

Through the brown paper parcels of my life
come the instalments of almost understanding,
carefully as flour through a fine sieve,
the making of knowing as episodes.

Come the instalments of almost understanding,
epiphanies of the vast distant shore,
the making of knowing as episodes,
a record of the unconscious to share.

Epiphanies of the vast distant shore,
strands of meaning needing to be sifted,
a record of the unconscious to share,
fragments of dreams scattered like confetti.



Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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January 12, 2023 · 3:45 pm

Lost In An Extended Frame – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“When you’re being truly creative, time stands still, and you enter a dimension that can carry you beyond the ordinariness of everyday life.” Denise Linn

Lost In An Extended Frame

What is it to be absorbed in a moment
when time is suspended without appeal,
a new reality in violation of the old
lost in an extended frame at every point?

When time is suspended without appeal,
like love floating on warm summer air,
lost in an extended frame at every point,
waiting to be gathered in the eternal field.

Like love floating on warm summer air
only lightness can insist on truth's approximation,
waiting to be gathered in the eternal field,
where listening transcends knowing.

Only lightness can insist on truth's approximation,
a new reality in violation of the old,
where listening transcends knowing;
what is it to be absorbed in a moment?


Copyright 2023 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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December 25, 2022 · 2:12 pm

Could We? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength.” Sigmund Freud

Could We? 

How are we to understand each other,
is it better instead to ignore convention,
to participate in a discontinuity,
could we chance a conversation?

Is it better instead to ignore convention,
look for possible opportunities,
to participate in a discontinuity,
could we open to each other?

look for possible opportunities,
follow bread crumb trails of dialogue,
could we open to each other
setting aside fear and disinterest?

Follow bread crumb trails of dialogue
to participate in a discontinuity,
setting aside fear and disinterest,
how are we to understand each other?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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December 11, 2022 · 3:11 pm

There Are Attempts – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Energy and motion made visible memories arrested in space.” Jackson Pollock

There Are Attempts

I want to say that there's no neutral ground,
there are attempts to describe possibilities,
are thoughts remotely possible in feelings,
are feelings even possible in thoughts?

There are attempts to describe possibilities,
but who can be sure of that kind of dream,
are feelings even possible within thoughts,
who is even aware of the ghost of such things?

But who can be sure of that kind of dream
where ideas just roll into each other blindly,
who is even aware of the ghost of such things,
abstractions that remain affectively open?

Where ideas just roll into each other blindly,
are thoughts remotely possible in feelings,
abstractions that remain affectively open?
I want to say that there's no neutral ground.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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December 6, 2022 · 3:15 pm

When Courage Arises – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Courage comes in different forms.” Nora Roberts

When Courage Arises

Change emerges when courage arises
when meaning shifts from self
to possibilities derived from wild dreams,
are we ready to explore these uncertainties?

When meaning shifts from self
what is exposed between the lines,
are we ready to explore these uncertainties
which lurk beneath our surface of lies?

What is exposed between the lines,
empty hollowed husks of truth
which lurk beneath our surface of lies,
or a vulnerability that receives life?

Empty hollowed husks of truth,
to possibilities derived from wild dreams,
or a vulnerability that receives life,
change emerges when courage arises.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All rights Reserved ®️

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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 8, 2022 · 2:55 pm

Tell Me Your Real Story – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

#2022 November PAD Chapbook Challenge

Day 8 8.11.22

Prompt: Write a form poem. I chose the form Pantoum.

Tell Me Your Real Story

Could you tell me what your story is,
the real story you carry deep within,
do you know it or have you dressed it,
is it veneered truth or reality fictions?

The real story you carry deep within,
longing to be released from its hiding,
is it veneered truth or reality fictions?
But know that fiction is just rogue truth.

Longing to be released from its hiding
the you that is really you is ready,
but know that fiction is just rogue truth,
a parable to be teased and discerned.

The you that is really you is ready,
do you know it or have you dressed it,
a parable to be teased and discerned,
could you tell me what your story is?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️

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