Tag Archives: prose

May 9, 2023 · 2:48 pm

There’s A Certain Bliss In Losing Time – Prosery by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Prosery (144 words of prose) with an invitation to use the line “On this day, without a date, on a back street, dusky” from the poem ‘My Friend Someone’ by Charles Simic.

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Charles Simic: Finding Our Pack

Photo: Taking a slow walk in the State Forest at Kirrup.

“People create all kind of fancy watches and clocks, never stopping to realise that they’re building monuments to the greatest of all thieves.” K. Martin Beckner

There’s A Certain Bliss In Losing Time

Some time ago, over three thousand years, give or take, Joshua claimed that God stopped time. I’m really not bothered whether or not that’s true. I’m captivated by the possibility. I have days where I’d really like to stop time so that there is nothing. I don’t want for something, I want for nothing. There’s a certain bliss in losing time, especially when even self is forgotten and, no one, no thing intrudes, not even myself. The bliss is accentuated in knowing I could stay there or, I could come back at any second, after all, nothing is a choice. Propinquity, that’s the thing, being close to stopping time.

Joshua also claimed that when God stopped time, a whole day was lost. Lost days have no name, no date, so on this day, without a date, on a back street, dusky, I walk into nothing.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon

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April 11, 2023 · 3:30 pm

Becoming – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Mish is hosting Prosery (144 words of prose) with an invitation to use the line “The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart.” from the poem ‘Winged Words’ by Valsa George. For more detail follow the link below.

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Valsa George “The Accidental Poet”

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

“I live like a poet and I’ll die like a poet.” Bob Dylan

Becoming

The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart, but how was I to know? It was asleep, undisturbed and untouched by the rhythm of my life. Little did I know that it was waiting in that fertile soil of my experience to burst into life, a veritable springtime of my soul. Waiting for the moment I would awaken and finally see what it was. And one day it did just that, burst forth and claimed my life with all its energy in an urgency of love, to speak in words unknown that came from the depths of me. Strangers become intimate friends in the exchange of meaning and understanding where it connects for real in the heart. That seed became my life, became a poem, became a collection which continues to grow, becoming at long last, the seed of a book.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon

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March 14, 2023 · 1:35 pm

In This Moment – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery (144 words of prose) with an invitation write a piece of prose which must include the line –

“In space in time I sit thousands of feet above the sea.” from ‘Meditation In Sunlight’ by May Sarton.

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Meditation

Photo by Admiral General M. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ GodShepherdly 33277089*: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-a-man-sitting-under-the-tree-737586/

“Breathe and let be.” John Kabat-Zinn

In This Moment

In space, in time, I sit thousands of feet above the sea. I can see everything, all things are passing through me, I can feel it all. In this moment I weep for the joy of everything, while yet I am weeping in sadness, a grief for all things. I notice the tiny wren’s nest, the perfection of a dewdrop, the great leviathan in the deep, a robber fly in the damp corner. That child’s face who is its heart, a mixture of feelings finding a way. The noise of humanity, louder than any nest of squawking hatchlings celebrating life and the urgency of desire. Here I lightly sit, taking it all in, right in that tender moment between the inward and outward breath. It is unconscious, beyond the mind. There is no soaring, no looking down, this is embodied, the journey deeply within.

Copyright 2023 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon

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June 12, 2022 · 3:30 pm

Don’t Mess With Red – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“Many bowdlerised versions indicated a Victorian-minded censorship, which feared that Little Red Riding Hood might some day break out, become a bohemian, and live in the wood with the wolf.” Jack D. Zipes

Don’t Mess With Red

As the wolf, that teddy-boy with slicked back quiff and leather jacket, so rugged, so volatile, disclosed his true nature with the flick of his switch-blade, Red took to him with a broom handle forcing him from her house. As she chased the wolf out through the front gate she noticed a woodsman with a clip board , all suited up and frowning.

Exasperated, Red asked him why he hadn’t intervened, to which he replied, with an air of arrogance, “I’m here to effect your detention before the committee.” “O! Really, on what charge?” Asked Red. “On several charges in fact” said the woodsman. “Name them” said Red, annoyed and gripping the broom handle tightly. “Well, you’re so young and you were out after curfew, you were unchaperoned, you entered the woods alone, your clothes, they are inappropriate and provocative, you also beat an animal, and you’re a girl. What do you have to say for yourself?” With a snarl she hit him hard.

There’s a fruit tree in her yard that is thriving, and once a week she takes tea with the wolf.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

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September 14, 2021 · 4:57 pm

Just Following Orders – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At Dverse Ingrid is hosting Prosery with an invitation to use a line from William Blake’s poem ‘The Chimney Sweeper’ – “If all do their duty, they need not fear harm.”

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Doing Our Duty

Public domain photo of Adolf Eichmann.

“Being evil is only something that only humans are capable of.” Jane Goodall

Just Following Orders

In 1960 an architect appeared in court in down town Jerusalem charged with crimes against humanity. He was the architect of the Holocaust, his defence was banal, he claimed immunity because he was only following orders.

Who never questions motive? Who believes they are perfect and above the law?And who never effects harm on others? But of those who excelled in following orders, no matter how perverted, Adolf Eichmann stands apart as intentionally evil, and more so because of his claim that he was just following orders. And, so, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm? really? Think slavery. Think Eichman, think Vietnam War, Think Derek Chauvin, think so many.

Our actions always affect others, and where there is evil the effect is always negative. Harm comes to those in the orbit of such people. Just listen to Holocaust survivors.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

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August 31, 2021 · 1:52 pm

I Remember – Haibun by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about first day/returning to school.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Back to School

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

“I failed angst in high school. They let me graduate anyway.” John Scalzi

I Remember

Life was to be lived, no time for study or going to school.I could do the work but it disinterested me and I was more focussed on heading down town. Besides, the roll wasn't checked other than in the morning and after lunch, the pubs didn't worry about proof of age even for the floor show where Stephanie (who looked like Stevie Nicks) in fishnets gave us all her charms. While the newsagent proprietor eyed me carefully lest I would steal a magazine (how did he know?), I read them in store. And the billiard hall was a second home, while I listened to the top forty at Mills Record Bar in the high street every Friday.

Looking back it was the girls I remember most. Rita who was cool and charming, Hedda who dealt hash, lyn who was pregnant, and Leslie who cared, Hannah who seemed ten years older than all of us, and Romy who had a beautiful smile and wore no bra and whose skirt seemed non-existent. I hated school, it was a war zone, but I loved escaping down town, and most all, I remember the girls.


the ducks all gather
chickens return home to roost
night heron flies far away


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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July 20, 2021 · 1:07 pm

Shucker’s Delight – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lisa is hosting Prosery, a piece of prose of 144 words, inviting us to use a line from a poem by Zora Neale Hurston which comes from her work ‘How Does it Feel to be Coloured Me’ in ‘World Tomorrow’ (1928)

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Finding Ms. Zora Neale Thurston

Photo: found at thegoodtrade.com

“Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.” Carl Jung

Shucker’s Delight

No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife. I find it occupies me best of all. I’m a shucker from way back and I have my own rhythm and movement, a time honoured practice of holding, inserting, twisting and opening. So simple, every action economical, a form of meditation, I love the concentration, one slip and I might lose a finger – I have wounds to show for every lapse. Wounds where I surrender focus to the searing hurts of humanity. This is no escape, just a respite, a regathering from the morass of pain felt in tones of colour, known in cries for justice, that which bleeds from the despair of prison gates. If I didn’t sharpen this oyster knife I fear the world would possess my emotions and blunt my innocent dance of freedom against power.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon

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June 8, 2021 · 2:01 pm

Leaving Regret – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery (up tp 144 words) using a line from the poem ‘A Map to The Next World.’ by Jo Harjo

dVerse Poets – Prosery

The line is: “Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.”

Photo: found at huffpost.com

“If you aren’t in the moment, you are either looking forward to uncertainty, or back to pain and regret.” Jim Carrey

Leaving Regret 

Regret, that yearning to grasp at something that slipped away, some long buried treasure 
like a skill or passion, a friendship, an opportunity, the "only if I'd" .... the voice 
that says you could have done that, you would have been set for life, if only you had or 
hadn't, whatever that may mean.

So strange that we live in anxious competition for the perfect life and yet, ironically, 
risk missing life altogether. The past is a mixture of joy and sorrow, but either way it 
can hold us prisoner, while the future is always possible, yet for some, full of worry. 
Life for me is circular, and in a circular world crucial to finding the way is this: there 
is no beginning or end, life is not a race along linear lines of achievement or loss, there
is no pennant only life itself.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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May 11, 2021 · 4:34 pm

Guilty Of Not Seeing – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse, Sanaa is hosting Prosery with an invitation to include a line by Rilke – “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely.”

Photo: survival.org.au

Guilty Of Not Seeing

The magpie lark returned to her nest with tidbits for all, and I was struck be her persistent nature, always, every morning, heading out of the nest looking for insects to feed her chicks. And on return to her little round castle, she is always greeted by four squawking mouths, all pleading, begging for a morsel. And, of course, here lies a metaphor so obvious, that the whole of humanity is at risk of falling into this same response, squawking at the government, agencies, not-for-profits, who should tend and feed the masses. And surely we are guilty, only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the centre of all things? guilty of not seeing that the author of life who is at the centre of everything. We are, perhaps, so busy pleading for dependency that we fail to see.

Copyright © 2021 Paul Vincent Cannon

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April 13, 2021 · 4:30 pm

The Dreamer – Prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Lillian is hosting Prosery where we are invited to write a piece of prose of 144 words including the line of poem offered by the host. Grace has invited us to work with the line ” If you are a dreamer, come in” which is from Shel Silverstein’s poem ‘Invitation’

dVerse Poets – Prosery

Photo: theculturaldictionary.com

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go and do that. Because what the world needs are people who are alive.” Howard Thurman

The Dreamer

I was walking along, multi-thinking, moving my mind to the end of the day so that I could get there quicker. I’m sure you’ve done that sometime. I wasn’t paying particular attention to anyone or anything. So I was surprised when a voice called out, a voice that was so unusual it. I didn’t think it was anyone calling to me but I looked around because I wanted to see who owned such an unusual voice. I was thinking hippy, free spirited, all tie-dyed, but there was Mr Business Suit beaming a smile. I stared at him and he gestured to the door “if you are a dreamer, come in.” Am I a dreamer? Yes I’m a dreamer, but I’m not coming in, I have my own dreams, I’m not buying yours, no way! They cost the earth, literally.” I walked away.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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