Tag Archives: poem

Where Do You Go? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.” Andre Breton

Where Do You Go?

When something like that happens where do you go,
how do you begin to bend time within time
and cope with the grief of stolen promises,
while remaining witness to the passing narrative.

How do you begin to bend time within time,
to create a new map of unexpected futures,
while remaining witness to the passing narrative
of the challenges of the disintegration of truths.

To create a new map of unexpected futures
that come from within our own imaginations,
of the challenges of the disintegration of truths
in the beautiful collapse of the so called real.

That come from within our own imaginations,
and cope with the grief of stolen promises
in the beautiful collapse of the so called real,
when something like that happens where do you go?


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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I’m Only A Spider – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sarah is hosting at the Poets Pub with an invitation to write about Creepies and crawlies.

dVerse Poets – Poets Pub – Creepies and Crawlies

Video taken in the Mundy Regional Park – this is a red-headed mouse spider (Missulena sp. Insignis)


“Spiders – so needed and yet so misunderstood.” Donna Lynn Hope




I’m Only A Spider
With a furry little flurry I'm always on the scurry
when a shadow intrudes to remind me that
you're so beyond big I can't flirt with you, and so
I run and run, though slowly, so as not to attract
your attention to my plight as I take flight with
all my might, that I could make for cover fast,
as in the past, and at last I would hide  my pride
in the shrubbery in recovery, and start my day all
over again, without your imposing shadow and,
unlike my prey, live to scurry another day.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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By Way Of An Answer – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“Oh, put your mouth on mine and leave it so ….” Mary Carolyn Davies

By Way Of An Answer 

The question arose when my greedy mouth
collapsed with hunger upon yours, and no
words could be conjured to answer the 
silence, except the pulsing of my temples,
threatening to burst like a pierced water
main sharing its pressure with umbrellas 
and hats, bathed in choral rainbows, sung
in summer rain, taking me along alterity;
the question arose when my greedy mouth
collapsed with hunger upon yours.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Filed under erotic, Free Verse, love, passion, poem, quote, romance

He Wasn’t – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo found at castlehavencare.co.uk

“I wish for a world that views disability, mental or physical, not as a hindrance but as unique attributes that can be seen as powerful assets if give the right opportunities.” Oliver Sacks

He Wasn't

The broken man didn't know that he was broken,
it's how the world determined his whatness 
with weasel words to cover their unease at his
simple joys and beautifully discordant lines,
they retreated from his jazz mind, confused by 
the jester's knowing honesty and maligned his
gentle open heart for not fitting the socket
of their most perfect lives of self-deception,
the broken man didn't know that he was broken,
because he wasn't, it's how the world corralled 
their fear, but he knew his why.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Nature Smiles – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: looking from the back wall of one former pub to another. Ruins at Kookynie, a former gold-rush town once boasting a mayor and council, and 10, 000 people and seven pubs.

“What’s old collapses, times change, and new life blossoms in the ruins.” Friedrich Schiller

Nature Smiles 

The soft ghosts of landscapes clutch longingly
at our feet, seeking to pull us in, desiring our 
hearts be held in this place in reverence less
seen, even neglected, now populated by the
ruins of past dreams faded with the stretch of
time, no longer elastic in this brittle earth where
moisture cannot abide, where hope recedes
like a recoil, and all the while nature smiles at
our dogged attempts to take charge, patiently
waiting for the penny to drop.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Filed under bush walking, camping, Country, environment, Free Verse, life, nature, poem, quote

Naked Truth – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“Every myth is psychologically symbolic. Its narratives and image are to be read, therefore, not literally, but as metaphors.” Joseph Campbell

Naked Truth

It is difficult to conceive, though
ever so mortally tempting, to 
imagine a singular story, one true
myth to rule us all, of which there 
is no doubt, despite the thin shred 
of scant evidence to the contrary,
which has never emerged and, 
so they say, to be disavowed in 
favour of the emperor's clothes,
that tissue of rice papered
distemper spread thinly over
the niceties of conventionally
sugared thinking, almost 
undisturbed by the multitude of
clarity brought to bear by the 
prismatic filter of those willing 
to point out that the emperor
has no clothes.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Horizon Decon – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: the Goldfields Woodlands regional park, camped at Boondi Rock. The open woodlands are so attractive.

“Deconstruction insists not that truth is illusory but that it is institutional.” Terry Eagleton

Horizon Decon

I'm digging up my highway,
deconstructing my horizon,
I'm celebrating the wheels
falling of my juggernaut,
ceasing making meaning where 
meaning can never be found,
letting go the madness of 
plausible voices, that eternal
cat's cradle of string never to
unravel, I'm taking down the 
frame-work of dull sensibility,
I'm making space for working
with what I've already been given.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

26 Comments

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Winter’s Reign – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to choose from either provided sentences or to write a few words that come to mind and to change a word(s) to its derivative and then weave the word into a poem.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Dungeons and Derivatives

Photo: Yellow pompom daisies east of Mt. Magnet.

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” Albert Camus

Winter's Reign

Her coffin was a tempest raging,
sharp daggers of flashing light,
awash with cold water down its sides,
clouded in foreboding darkness,
she was restless even in death and,
sensing a struggle we rushed
forward and placed her hands in 
repose and closed the lid, no more
will she rage in these parts, 
time to celebrate her passing.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

44 Comments

Filed under bush walking, camping, Country, Free Verse, life, nature, poem, quote, seasons

Tongue And Groove – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, De is hosting the Quadrille (44 words) with an invitation to write using some form of the word Groove.

dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Groove

Photo: bodylanguagecentral.com

“Sometimes a wink is enough ….” Neha Sharma

Tongue And Groove

Though she was no carpenter,
she enjoyed the idea of renovation,
her ideas revolved around shape and form,
a true renaissance woman and, though I
tentatively suggested render, she turned,
winked and said, without guile, there's
always a place for some tongue and groove.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

37 Comments

Filed under awareness, erotic, Free Verse, passion, poem, Sex

Cathedral Of Grand Ideas – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: campfire at Peter Denny lookout near Sandstone. There’s something primal about fire!

“The moment something ends, a spectacular new voyage begins in the unseen.” Hiral Nagda

Cathedral Of Grand Ideas

The trees gave fragments, 
igniting my mind with a 
language of fire, composed of 
intricate thought elements
reaching up to the sky as
skeletal bones of frame,
marking out a cathedral of
grand ideas that will inflame
passions and set fire to our 
eyes of knowing, new energy
arising from the ash of rutted 
ways.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

22 Comments

Filed under bush walking, camping, Country, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, nature, passion, poem, quote