Tag Archives: poem

June 20, 2019 · 8:22 am

It Is Your Love – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Word of the Day – Nourish

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Image: pixabay.com

It is Your Love

The broth of healing warms my bones
and touches every fibre of my soul
bringing to life the very juice
constrained within and
now running down my chin
of appreciation as
the cold of denial is kept at bay
and the weariness of the world is
transformed, as now an energy
released upon which I thrive,
this healing broth which nourishes
is pure and whole
full of goodness unsullied
by the ills of the world,
it is
your gift of love.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com.

7 Comments

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June 19, 2019 · 2:45 pm

Of Promise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Meet Jackie Hulbert

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Art Work: Jackie Hurlbert by permission, via dVerse Poets and Linda Lee Lyberg.

 

Of Promise

She, as many do,
was moving through the doors
of her life and not with ease
so much as a quiet confidence
that was easily torn at the edges
when things went wrong,
and, of course,
too quickly for it to be true
she would blame herself
often referring to a multitude
of lack by some
meaningless comparison;
she was puzzled at how others
would affirm her creative zest
and her beauty,
but when she looked in the mirror
she only saw and ordinary woman
with messy hair,
where others saw
a beautiful, wild garden
of promise.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

43 Comments

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June 18, 2019 · 2:42 pm

I Would Drink – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Ghazal Form 2

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Photo found on Pinterest

 

 

I would Drink

At Isfahan we stopped at the coffeehouse for a drink,
hot tea, coffee, water pipe, what shall I drink?

The Sufi say distil the Qur’an in water for enlightenment,
where is your heaven that you may drink?

We sit in rapt attention while tales of Shahnameh are told,
but all hell breaks out when Ester walks by, her soul we drink.

Khorasan markets were fun today, so many trinkets bought.
Who knows if those laden camels had time to drink?

The vainglory of the tavern as we remake the world,
because he is downcast and dad Darius should not drink.

I sometimes wonder what matters to youth.
Of sipping, slurping and gulping, how do you drink?

My girl Kohinoor in my mind’s eye at the window I see,
my desire, she’s so far away, but her fruit I would drink.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

17 Comments

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June 18, 2019 · 4:01 am

The Wall – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Fretboard of Poetry

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

The Wall

The wall,
amalgam of clay and fire
stands boldly,
but time smiles benignly
knowing full well that it must
eventually give way
slowly,
frittering and fretting
as washed by life,
revealing
a softness so strong
it has no need of that
hardened,
calloused skin.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Note: Fret refers to a number of things – worry, to be consumed, and to be worn down. It was an old masons term for the deterioration of bricks.

Paul, pvcann.com

49 Comments

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June 17, 2019 · 3:29 pm

Coloured Every Space – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: pixabay.com

Coloured Every Space

There was a time of doldrum days
becalmed in old routines and
repetitious droughts of mind
like harvest fields of crackling grain
and hanging, dry, stringy bark,
when creeks were dry
and summer blazed
with no relief in sight,
until I heard the rustling leaves
and tap, tap, tapping screen door
with a breath of air,
I sensed a change as
you drifted in and
coloured every space.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

42 Comments

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June 16, 2019 · 2:20 pm

The Silence – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

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Photo: gangnam.lv

 

The Silence

He was garrulous and rambling
leaving no gaps in which she
could venture into the
conversation that had lost its
original point some time ago,
and wishing to return to the
moment of themselves,
that iridescent intimacy that
comes with soul-gazed eyes
and phosphorescent halos in
an attentiveness that filters
out the world to a distant hum,
she leaned in and pulled him
closer, sealing the silence
with her lips.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

 

23 Comments

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June 14, 2019 · 2:59 pm

That Point – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

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Art: Henri Rosseau 1840 – 1910. Post Impressionism. ‘The Sleeping Gypsy’ 1897.

 

 

That Point

That point when all has fallen away
when darkness has become a shroud on
which the psychedelia of dreamland
can majestically paint all that is
the technicolour stereopticon of
surreal unconscious lunar tides
on which I rise and fall,
just as breathing
so as dreaming,
until irruption rends and
registers other, lesser worlds
leaving disorientation in its wake
with the sorrow of leaving,
no going back
not wanting to go forward,
arrested state,
so as sleeping,
so as life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

34 Comments

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June 13, 2019 · 3:09 pm

She Will Rise – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – To Market, To Market

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Photo: guardian.ng

 

She Will Rise

The cold air exposed her breath
and what was seen in the sea of stalls
was also felt through her body
while her table
at exorbitant cost,
considering her income,
was a painfully hired space
for her and her baby,
working nights in the city
and days plying her trade
in this flea market,
she gets by,
many look,
while others deride her hard work,
her precious beads of delight,
that some eschew
too few embrace,
but one day soon she will rise
from this place of vague existence.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

29 Comments

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June 12, 2019 · 5:59 pm

We Never Even Noticed – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

What Do You See?

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Image provided by Willow Poetry

 

We Never Even Noticed

How we solaced in the truths of our elders,
to hold to pristine shibboleths of hollow ground
that all was hallowed in a superstition
of moralised purity,
that we promptly set in stone,
and there we held you in mawkish admiration
so unfounded, somehow projected,
believing that you held us too
because we were so good at our own game
given to saccharine views of life,
there we were, fulminating righteous wrath
against love itself
the very given of nurture,
and we called on your name as talisman
without so much as a fibre of authenticity
preferring indulgent expectation
dressed and redolent in disconnect,
and you, imprisoned in your architrave,
looked on in sorrow and wept
in your powerless state where
our dogmas kept you,
yet you dared to ask from your eyrie
disturbing our common good,
What moved us or
how did we reach into the pain of neighbour?
Indignant silence was
followed by sanctimonious justification.
Your loud shout of anguish rent the air
then a mighty crack
as you effaced in surrendered humility,
recognising our inability to be aware
so selfishly content that
love was adulterated,
poisoned,
defunct,
perpetually crucified,
and we never even noticed.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Paul, pvcann.com

69 Comments

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June 11, 2019 · 1:09 pm

The Lines They See – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Anomaly – VJs Weekly Challenge

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Photo: quotesgram.com

The Lines They See

I leaned against a friend the other day,
they shook their leaves in welcome
though it may have been the breeze,
and we looked out at all before us and
noticed how people seemed to love
variety and creativity,
yet lived stultified in a gridded lock
like a mangled paste tube
all squeezed out,
with nothing left but
lines to follow in fruitless purchase
of who knows what,
frowning on those who live outside
the lines they see,
not realising that the
irregularities they fear to indulge
are in truth,
the very life that nurtures.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

37 Comments

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