Tag Archives: Pantoum (non-rhyming)

Letting The Gates Open – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

“Life is without meaning. You bring meaning to it.” Joseph Campbell

Letting The Gates Open

Making meaning is the gift of myth,
an imagineering of shifted shapeness,
a wasabi like future of inlaid redemption,
minds made and unmade as refolding clay.

An imagineering of shifted shapeness,
the undressing of facades and stereotypes,
minds made and unmade as refolding clay,
remoulding actions as arcade possibilities.

The undressing of facades and stereotypes,
letting the gates open so the horses can bolt,
remoulding actions as arcade possibilities,
creating fluid arcs of understanding.

Letting the gates open so the horses can bolt,
a wasabi like future of inlaid redemption,
creating fluid arcs of understanding,
making meaning is the gift of myth.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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

What Hand Will You Play? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: wallpaperflare.com

“Men Argue. Nature acts.” Voltaire

What Hand Will You Play?

One should always designate the joker early,
you never know when a crisis will arise,
often at the eleventh hour but also the first,
what hand will you play as the earth burns?

You never know when a crisis will arise,
the deck is smouldering but no one notices,
what hand will you play as the earth burns?
Show the wild card that we might turn the game.

The deck is smouldering but no one notices,
we're all holding close and sweating it out,
show the wild card that we might turn the game,
the hour is early, the hour is late, play it sweet.

We're all holding close and sweating it out,
often at the eleventh hour but also the first,
the hour is early, the hour is late, play it sweet,
one should always designate the joker early.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under awareness, environment, Pantoum, quote

The Moment -a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: plasticsoupfoundation.org

“A very faustian choice is upon us: whether to accept our corrosive and risky behaviour as the unavoidable price of population and economic growth, or to take stock of ourselves and search for a new environmental ethic.” E.O. Wilson

The Moment

The moment between asking and answering a question
is the moment of significant weight waiting to shift,
one way or another to fall or to rise, to the left or the right,
and in the moment identifying our own game of denial.

Is the moment of significant weight waiting to shift 
merely a trope of the human imaginative longing,
one way or another to fall or to rise, to the left or the right,
or is it perhaps a significant axial irruption in our midst?

Merely a trope of the human imaginative longing,
suggesting that there is no salvific moment beyond dreams,
or is it perhaps a significant axial irruption in our midst,
at best our childish myths deserted our desperate need.

Suggesting that there is no salvific moment beyond dreams,
one way or another to fall or to rise, to the left or the right,
at best our childish myths deserted our desperate need,
the moment between asking and answering a question.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under awareness, ecology, Economics, environment, life, nature, Pantoum, poem, politics, quote

The Evil Tide – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found at perthbirdsandbush.com one of several types of Cuckoo native to Western Australia and across Australia.

The Cuckoo sings nicely, looks pleasant, but is a cunning bird with a mean behaviour, forcing other birds to rear its young by deception and competition, often meaning host birds lose their own offspring. The host birds never realise until it is too late that the cuckoo has invaded its nest. Surely a modern proverb for the moment.

“You see, cuckoos are parasites.” Casandra Clare

The Evil Tide

The cuckoo has played its game well,
poisonous views and paranoia well hidden,
while the host is completely unaware,
the birth of lies subtly creeps life.

Poisonous views and paranoia well hidden,
the drain is swamped by cunning cucks,
the birth of lies subtly creeps life,
encompassing, contaminating everything.

The drain is swamped by cunning cucks,
too weak to stand against the evil tide
encompassing, contaminating everything,
from decency to integrity all is tainted.

Too weak to stand against the evil tide,
while the host is completely unaware,
from decency to integrity all is tainted,
the cuckoo has played its game well.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Filed under awareness, Economics, injustice, Pantoum, poem, politics, quote

I Didn’t Get The Memo – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found at insight180.com – ‘Shifting Perspectives to Create New Possibilities.’

“We must reinvent a future free of blinders so that we can choose from real options.” David Suzuki

I Didn't Get The Memo

Is the future cancelled because I didn't get the memo,
although, as I look closely at events and phenomena,
I could be persuaded that it certainly looks that way,
with moribund doldrums and rapacious anachronism.

Although, as I look closely at events and phenomena,
I see the disparate looks and flourishing apathy,
with moribund doldrums and rapacious anachronism,
diluting the advance of any real social evolution.

I see the disparate looks and flourishing apathy,
the trap so easily set to hold humanity back,
diluting the advance of any real social evolution,
time to slip that mooring and live a new version.

The trap so easily set to hold humanity back,
I could be persuaded that it certainly looks that way,
time to slip that mooring and live a new version,
is the future cancelled because I didn't get that memo.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️ 

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Armchair Complacency – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Paris, May 1968, independent.co.uk

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” Martin Luther King Jr.

Armchair Complacency

Why do I feel so alone in the world,
have all the revolutionaries retired,
how is it that armchairs are all the rage
and ideas have fallen to banal repetition?

Have all the revolutionaries retired,
it seems that all have surrendered
and ideas have fallen to banal repetition,
where exists the praxis of upheaval?

It seems that all have surrendered
to the algorithm of complacency,
where exists the praxis of upheaval,
how did we become chained to lies?

To the algorithm of complacency,
how is that armchairs are all the rage,
how did we become chained to lies,
why do I feel so alone in the world?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Filed under injustice, life, Pantoum, passion, philosophy, poem, politics, quote

Are We Capable? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: stocksnap at pixabay.com

“What people want is not the easy peaceful life that allows us to think of our unhappy condition, nor the dangers of war, nor the burdens of office, but the agitation that takes our mind off it and diverts us.” Blaise Pascal

Are We Capable?

Do we only find meaning in what we make,
are we capable of attending to the natural world,
to wait on events not of our doing or control,
or is our attention fragile, a result of distraction?

Are we capable of attending to the natural world,
to challenge ourselves to be present to the issues,
or is our attention fragile, a result of distraction,
always seeking, always grasping, never waiting.

To challenge ourselves to be present to the issues,
suspending our search for a heroic intervention,
always seeking, always grasping, never waiting,
time to end the denial that the planet is terminal.

Suspending our search for a heroic intervention,
to wait on events not of our doing or control,
time to end the denial that the planet is terminal,
do we only find meaning in what we make?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

21 Comments

Filed under awareness, environment, life, nature, Pantoum, poem, quote

Is It Strange? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“Nothing protects the heart like patience.” Rob Hill Sr

Is It Strange?

Is it strange that he keeps his heart in a jar,
down by the sea, just out of reach of the tide,
with the lid screwed on very water-tight,
never to be awash on the shore of emotion.

Down by the sea, just out of reach of the tide,
he baited the hook of his own amour torment,
never to be awash on the shore of emotion,
yet always afraid of the waves rolling in.

He baited the hook of his own amour torment,
conscious of the disappearing sands,
yet always afraid of the waves rolling in,
uncertain of the stars coming down close.

Conscious of the disappearing sands,
with the lid screwed on very water-tight,
uncertain of the stars coming down close,
is it strange that he keeps his heart in a jar?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

23 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, life, love, Pantoum, poem, quote, relationship

Questioning The Moral – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Linda at dVerse is hosting Poetics with an invitation to write a poem, choosing one of twelve opening sentences. The sentence I have chosen is sentence 5. “No bondage is worse than the hope of happiness.” Carlos Fuentes ‘Diana the Goddess Who Hunts Alone’ Bloomsbury, 1995.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Opening Sentences

Photo: jooin.com

“All Limitations are self-imposed.” Oliver Wendell Holmes

Questioning The Moral

No bondage is worse than the hope of happiness,
whether it is an objectified and unworthy idolatry or
found only in the benign passion that undergirds,
according to the Sceptics warding off hedonism.

Whether it is an objectified and unworthy idolatry or
is it of the passive mind, or of the violent blood,
according to the Sceptics warding off hedonism,
that terror too grand for the likes of humanity.

Is it of the passive mind, or of the violent blood,
the deciding line of all broken moral compasses,
that terror too grand for the likes of humanity,
relegating all life to dribble about vice and virtue.

The deciding line of all broken moral compasses,
found only in the benign passion that undergirds,
relegating all life to dribble about vice and virtue,
no bondage is worse than the hope of happiness.


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®



Note: on this occasion my inspiration is underpinned by the work of the the philosopher David Hume who believed that passions rather than rational though inspired happiness. Hume was known as a logical positivist. The work I reference indirectly in my thoughts is 'Essays Moral, Political, and Literary.'

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Making Light – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: huffpost.com West Berliners crowd in front of the Berlin Wall early 11 November 1989 as they watch people trying to demolish a section of the wall in order to open a new crossing point between East and West Berlin, near the Potsdamer Square.

“The wall that protects you also imprisons you.” Susan Jeffers

Making Light

Can you remember when the wall fell?
Were you even alive in that very moment,
the ending of a long drawn out facade,
walls always fall after the pride of a nation.

Were you even alive in that very moment
when the world held its breath waiting,
walls always fall after the pride of a nation,
more than just rubble it is the people.

When the world held its breath waiting
in hope of a creative existential shift,
more than just rubble it is the people
making light from oppressive darkness.

In hope of a creative existential shift,
the ending of a long drawn out facade,
making light from oppressive darkness,
can you remember when the wall fell?


Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

34 Comments

Filed under history, injustice, life, Pantoum, poem, politics, quote