Tag Archives: Prosery

Advent Herald – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Jim Harrison

Linda at dVerse has invited us to take a line from the work of Jim Harrison – “A cow is screaming across the arroyo.” taken from his poem ‘Cow.’

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Photo: Pixabay.com

 

“Moo may represent and idea, but only the cow knows.”  Mason Cooley

 

Advent Herald

A cow is screaming across the arroyo as the weaners are drawn aside. The cattle-hands working the herd, the weaners easily pushed across the arroyo to the feeders like children to a lolly counter. I listened to her screaming, a gut-grief heartfelt, and though I cannot speak it, a warning was implied. Burgers or breeders, the children are consumed. And as I walked reflecting, I wondered about all the herding of life, this arroyo is not the Rubicon, but a die was no less cast.

I came to the creek-line with an angel or devil, I’m not sure, but I left the gate open and the screaming cow dove through. She spoke so clearly as we passed, “Those who lie or sup from the manger will be crucified one day.” Startled, I ran through, I’ve been wandering un-herded ever since, across that arroyo.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

 

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Filed under challenge, farming, Free Verse, life, mindfulness, nature, prose

Let It Be Extravagant – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Meet Jane Kenyon

For this month’s prosery Victoria at dVerse has invited us to write our 144 words including the line “If it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant’ from  Jane Kenyon’s poem ‘Taking down the tree.”

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Photo: hdwallpapersrocks.com

 

“Night is a time of rigor, but also of mercy. There are truths which one can only see when it’s dark.”  Isaac Bashevis Singer

 

Let It Be Extravagant

As darkness dispels the day the city hums differently and thoughts turn from servitude to pleasure. The cemeteries quieten while night clubs howl, even louder on Fridays for a while. But darkness is only ever fleeting, even beyond the daylight night lights of the city centre, the edges of town are moonlit, starlit, ever so clear. Just so the inner, hidden selves of the working day come out so clearly at night. Under the cover of darkness we stop and play, and inhibitions have no hold or sway. Out of the sun or the office light, our true colours shine brightly, the real is about. Cavorting, carousing, and revelling we go, in darkness it’s safe to be us. And, if it’s darkness we’re having, let it be extravagant, for darkness is sharper than light. What is hidden in light is so clear at night.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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Gone – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery – All Hallows

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Photo: shutterstock.com

 

“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortal.”  Emily Dickinson

 

Gone

He smiled as I lit a candle in memory, his face briefly illumined in the flare of the match. We reminisced, he and I, as we sipped our mulled wine in the quiet of the eve. Those days of school caps, soccer, steam trains, fish and chips in the high street, so many memories. We recounted all those souls who’d gone before us, choosing to redeem their lives by letting go their shortcomings and recalling their good side, to do otherwise would lack any sense of grace or humanity. The night drew long, and talk turned to he and I and all those years and some lost opportunities, the what ifs and maybes of life. I felt the tears welling, and as I blinked my eyes blurred. Eventually, as my eyes cleared, I looked up and saw that he was gone, until next time.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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I wonder – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery

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Photo: the majestic Karri trees at Boranup.

The dVerse Prosery is hosted this week by Merril and the line to use is “These memories were left here with the trees.” from ‘How to Write a Poem in a Time of War.” by Jo Harjo. Using that line create a piece of prose of 144 words.

 

I Wonder

I wonder what happened here before I am. This one tree might speak of so much. But what might a forest speak? A grove of knowledge no cloud could carry, a living intelligence that pales Plato, or the vast paucity of philosophy. Each bole a reliquary of life’s passage, each annual ring a repository of a truth greater that the sum of what we call knowledge. O to be grounded in the strength of your heartwood and risk the sky, or to shelter in your caress and know love, to know what you know, to sup from your fount. Evanescent, history passes, held by your compassionate gaze. Of owls and wars, lovers and seasons, for each an ossuary caringly covered by your blankets and, until the one who knows as you know, that only love uncovers, these memories were left here with the trees.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com.

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Filed under bush walking, challenge, Country, life, love, mindfulness, nature, prose

You Who Are – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery

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Photo: videoblocks.com

The dVerse challenge by Kim is to take the line “You will love again the stranger who was yourself” from the poem ‘Love After Love’ by Derek Walcott and write 144 words of prose.

“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.”  Carl Gustav Jung

You Who Are

“You will love again the stranger who was yourself.” she said. Her eyes were moist and tender, worried I guess, as I had been somewhere other than myself for some time, fully estranged, formed, nay, torn by the desires and opinions of so many, but never my own. It is as if, as Eliot once proposed, that I could arrive at myself and know myself as if for the very first time. To strip off the hats and masks, the accretions of a life, or two, and return naked to the world as my true self, the ungarnished and bruised reality for all to see. And that is the loveable, that is the real. All else is window dressing on a grand scale of deception of the self, no one else is so deceived. So, to set aside those ancient scales for love.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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One Side – by Paul Vincent Cannon

dVerse Poets – Prosery 2

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Photo: pixabay.com

At dVerse Poets sarahsouthwewst has challenged us to write a prose piece of 144 words using a line from a poem. Sarah has chosen a line from ‘Full Moon’ by Alice Oswald: “Last night I dreamt I was the moon.”

 

One Side

The strangest things can happen in unguarded moments with a glass of wine. We were sitting out star-gazing when I blurted out, for no apparent reason, at least none that would make any sense, that last night I dreamt I was the moon. After a polite pause someone asked what I meant and I realised I was thinking out loud. I was roused from my thoughts with “Well?” Then someone filled the long silence with “They say that to dream of the moon means that you can face a challenge.” Someone else volunteered, “It means mysterious changes are coming in your life.” Then all eyes were on me again. “Well?” “Well, It struck me that I am only one side.” “What?” came the unified response. “you only ever see one side of me, I have a very dark side.” The night hid my smile.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

 

Paul, pvcann.com

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