Tag Archives: RDP

June 22, 2020 · 1:54 pm

Held You – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Monday – Pinnacle

Photo: climber Alison Hargreaves, found on Pinterest.

I have written about Hargreaves before, a haunting story of courage and accomplishment and death. Tragically her son Tom died climbing in 1919.

“And if you are given two options, take the harder one because you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Alison Hargreaves

Held You

The pinnacles of Peak gritstone
enticed you to claim their craggy faces
week after week until you were ready
for the most audacious exploits 
of Eiger and Everest,
their foreboding reputations surrendered
to your determination and courage,
except the last, as it came to be,
when instead, K2 jealously claimed you
for itself, reluctant to let you go,
and, for a time, held you in its icy maw
as honour to your craft.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

17 Comments

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June 7, 2020 · 3:34 pm

It Fell – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Sunday – Luscious

Photo: pixabay.com
"The proximity of a desirable thing tempts one to overindulge. On that path lies danger."   Frank Herbert

It Fell

The glistening droplet gathered itself
into a weight of momentum,
slithering the glossy surface
with greedy, lusty intent,
feeling every vein and downy hair
until, having drunk its fill of
luscious skin, it fell to the ground 
of fertility where its sighs can 
still be heard.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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June 5, 2020 · 1:42 pm

The Art Of Bludgeoning – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: forbes.com A seventy-five year old man was shoved to the ground, causing serious injury, the two officers have been stood down pending investigation. This must end.

RDP Friday – Protest

"We're not anti-police ... we're anti-police brutality."  Al Sharpton

The Art Of Bludgeoning 

We can't have peace,
take an oath,
take a badge,
now go,
be brave,
bludgeon that 
man,
woman,
child,
until their blood
redeems the views
of the marionette's
twisted predations,
laid bare on the 
altar of lies,
such is the denial
of protest.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

28 Comments

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May 25, 2020 · 3:40 pm

My Eye’s Delight – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Monday – Gossamer

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Photo by Brad Warland, australiangeographic.com.au  A Golden Orb spider.

 

“Is there anything in the universe more beautiful and protective than the simple complexity of a spider’s web?”  E. B. White

My Eye’s Delight

I saw her working,
her uncertain, improvised easel
holding a whitened canvas,
just waiting for those
seemingly random daubs
of bold impressionism,
free form interpretations
splashed with meaning,
today there was no mere
Renoir or Cezanne,
this delicate weave of
gossamer sheer,
an orb’s masterpiece
for my eye’s delight.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

27 Comments

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May 9, 2020 · 2:35 pm

Moving – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Saturday – Nomad

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Photo: Mundaring State Forrest, a perfect soul place.

“Every exit is an entry somewhere else.”  Tom Stoppard

Moving

There’s a gentle stirring in my soul,
like autumn leaves drifting the winds,
kissing the soil,
rustling in hedgerows,
skittering along roads,
eddying the corners,
lifting and folding,
swirling round and round,
catching my attention
to a sense of movement
deep within that, even though
I’m standing still in this place,
my soul is nomad once again
and my sense of self is gently moving on.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

33 Comments

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May 2, 2020 · 2:51 pm

Release From Prism – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Saturday – Identity

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

“I am aware that I am less than some people prefer me to be, but most people are unaware that I am so much more than what they see.”  Douglas Pagels

Release From Prism

By what prism am I,
that uneven self of self,
a composite of conventional norms,
or the spaces of my daily habits,
layers of false true selves
a rare glimpse of the who
I am and am not,
never really defined, though
partially admitted nine to five,
but ever incomplete,
arriving at myself time and again,
to change would be to risk the
imperfection of the who
I am becoming.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

42 Comments

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April 29, 2020 · 4:22 pm

Making Her Own Path – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Wednesday – Dance

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

“The moment in between what you once were, and who you are now becoming, is where the dance of life really takes place.”  Barbara de Angelis

Making Her Own Path

Alone at last
she heard again the
whispered invitation
and took off her outer self,
dancing a conversation
of physical grace,
an exquisite ritual
formed of something
deep within,
making her own path
along an ordinary course.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

25 Comments

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April 25, 2020 · 3:40 pm

Not Without Risk – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Saturday – Trouble

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Photo: http://www.fanpop.com  Dianna Rigg as Emma Peel in the Avengers.

 

“She slept with wolves without fear, for the wolves knew a lion was among them.”  R.M. Drake

Not Without Risk

I was not in control,
your words caught in my mouth
teasing sensibilities,
breaking the rules,
a dangerous energy
so fragile
I hesitated,
catching glimpses,
not without risk,
you were trouble,
and I was adrift,
but by that time
you were my hero.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

 

40 Comments

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April 24, 2020 · 3:37 pm

The New – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Friday – Normal

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

“We sense that ‘normal’ isn’t coming back, that we are being born into a new normal; a new kind of society, a new relationship to the earth, a new experience of being human.”  Charles Eisenstein

The New

I woke to the strangeness of a patient silence
that filled an obsolete vision of worlds,
I climbed off that clanking thrusting beast
as it lay wasted in my stead
and entered the vast field of joy,
where I saw the end of privilege,
that once would have devoured all the
tomorrows, wasting them on the altar of want,
but now I am challenged,
times are many and the distance is near,
this is the new normal
and the choice is mine,
to accept responsibility
for futures now seen.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

38 Comments

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April 12, 2020 · 2:58 pm

The Sea Of Truth – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

RDP Sunday – Truth

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Photo: pixabay.com

 

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”  Oscar Wilde

 

The Sea Of Truth

The sea of truth is rent as a
westerly whips across the sound,
so much is indistinct as waves crash
fiercely holding but for a moment
then folding into each other,
no latitude here,
only the mollusks are indifferent,
unashamed of their resistance
to this vast body of similitude
that shapes the destiny of granite
with ease and holds the sands
in no esteem, consuming tubs
traversing meaning, skating
the peaks alone,
and I stand on the groin
seeing everything and nothing
exhausting itself, spent in anger,
so much is indistinct.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

22 Comments

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