Photo by Euan Cameron on Unsplash
Dropping Out
Voices competing
barista barks
our long table
clink clanks and
bustles with news,
views, requests
wood on tiles
excruciating
urgent intensities,
I let it all wash over
drifting into an under
water blub, blub blur
beyond the reef
to a much needed
Nothingness.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under Free Verse, poem, Rest, Silence
Photo: found on X
Pointed
Saturday venue
wood fire crackling
rain on corrugated
trees glistening with crystals
framed in windows
overhead projector hums
coffee permeates
announcing indulgence,
something catches my eye
shining bright,
I move to retrieve it
lose sight of it
reorient and see again,
needle and thread
lodged in axminster,
a stitch in time?
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under awareness, Free Verse, poem
At dVerse Grace is hosting Meeting The Bar with an invitation to revisit the venerable tradition of the Ars Poetica, Latin for “the art of poetry.” Traditionally, an Ars Poetica is a poem about poetry itself: why we write, what poems do, how language works upon us, and what we hope our words might accomplish. From Horace to Archibald MacLeish and countless contemporary poets, writers have used the form to explore their relationship with the craft. An Ars Poetica often becomes a personal manifesto, a meditation, or a declaration of faith in poetry itself.
dVerse Poets – MTB – Ars Poetica Revisited
Image by AS Photography from Pixabay
P-ars-ing About
What a journey a poem is,
from the moment I open the shed
to the first slice of tilth
with sharp spade,
a turning of the soil
over and over in my mind,
last I saw a skeleton
I wondered how it was
that thoughts get lost
in so small a space
as if deliberately hiding
around corners,
then comes the mower
a shortening of verse
verging on the radicle,
so too the secateurs
here a phrase
there a word
a whole scansion pruned,
after a morning’s work
I look over the labours
sometimes noting the
fine lines,
while there are times
I admit, that the
mark is missed and
I rake over the soil again.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under Ars Poetica, Free Verse, Gardening, poem, poetry, writing
Photo: from the State Library of Western Australia archive – a band called the Elks playing at the Charles Hotel in 1980, one of the many pub-rock venues I frequented.
Glory Days
Grime street cowboys
in black leather chaps
corral smoke and
cinder dust down
side alleys
where footfall
is Christopher Lee,
unhinged thoughts
the rust is not
just the clinging
smog sludge rain,
it is indeed piss soaked
cretaceous evidence of
the ordinariness
of hollow vodka dreams
resting in puke mounded
spittle gutters
butts still smoking,
laughter echoes like
bullets on concrete,
sweat soaked dancers
loud lacy mistresses
pencil tight unbending
flutters fancy
stocking tops
white thighs
black looks
stumbling, hammered heads
clock strikes judgement
after midnight,
how glorious.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Originally posted for #PoemsAbout #OutAfterMidnight at @pvcannon.bsky.social
Filed under Free Verse, history, music, poem, Pub Rock
At dVerse Mish is hosting Poetics – “You have probably assumed I am asking you to use juxtaposition in your poem today. Correct! In addition to that, I am offering you a visual element for inspiration.
From the images below, choose two that YOU feel could create a contrast. Then use them as a foundation to build your poem. Combine sensory details that conflict with each other. Blend the concrete with the abstract. You can even shift between environments or periods of time. A shorter poem may have greater impact, but of course any style you would like to work with is fine. If you are not moved by any of the images provided, feel free to use your own.
Where do the images take you? How do they compare? How do they relate? Could metaphors explain how they are connected? What is the message? Is there an element of hypocrisy or irony? Could one of them be the subject and the other, the atmosphere, mood or setting? What happens when you blend them? Do they ignite tension that needs resolution?”
dVerse Poets – Poetics – A Tale Of Two Images
I chose the following images
felipeaugusto-earth-2938017 and 2020/08/plants-5335777_1920.jpg
Whether The Weather
As to the question
will it or won’t it
my window offers
the best possibility
of approximating
an answer, whereas
old barometer seems
somewhat churlish,
unlikely to deliver
anything precise while
weather app is
inconclusive with lots
of maybe, maybe not
truth is, something’s
going to happen but then
another question arises,
will it be feast or famine?
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under Free Verse, Humour, poem, rain, weather
For Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge No. 70, The Lai, Melissa has invited us to use the syllabic form the lai (pronounced lay) which is a French form that is comprised of nine lines. It has “a” and “b” end rhymes and each line has a specific syllable count.
The rhyme scheme of the lai is as follows: aabaabaab. The lines ending with an “a” rhyme have five syllables and the lines ending with a “b” rhyme have two syllables.
Photo: taken at Lake Campion in April 2025, this lake is part of an extensive ancient salt lake system across the eastern wheatbelt and through the goldfields, today it would have one name but the colonial explorers thought there were several interrelated autonomous lakes. This lake system is still harvested for domestic and agricultural salt use.
Form: Lai (nine lines aabaabaab; a lines have 5 syllables, b lines have 2 syllables)
Old Salt
Vast inland salt lake
harvested for flake
to grind,
please don’t drink can’t slake,
risk of burn no fake
of mind,
of this what to make
it’s no piece of cake,
my bind.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun Monday with an invitation to write honouring the first solstice for 2026. For more info on Haibun follow the link below.
dVerse Poets – Haibun – First Solstice
Photo: Wood Ducks taken at Bunbury Wetlands in spring 2018.
Bloody Ducks
The heat has gone out of the days but I’m still clinging to the idea of the sun. I refuse myself a jumper, leave the raincoat on its hook, I’m not lighting a fire or using the AC, I’m tempted to buy a lettuce and eschew the idea of cooking vegetables.
I took the car downtown this morning, so warm and cloudless, no wind. I was buoyant until, on my way home, the ducks betrayed me. They do this every year. They leave the lake nearby and start grazing the burb. Early showers have awakened the slugs, one of their favourite foods. There they were, along my verge, harbingers of winter. And in that moment my denial fades.
winter uncertain
solstice is no guarantee
ducks herding the clouds
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under Bunbury Wetlands, Haibun, Haiku, nature
Photo: Boranup Forest – a Kari forest (not Wandoo) but stunning tall trees (Australia’s tallest native trees).
Yes
I remember that first time
sitting under the wandoo
looking out over the valley
lapsing into silence for
what seemed an eon
that was half an hour,
then feeling an ending,
I stood and raised my arms
to the canopy
to the sky
and uttered one word
yes.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under Bakers Hill, bush walking, Daybreak, Free Verse, meditation, mindfulness, poem, Southbourne Farm
Photo: pixabay.com
Form: Tanka (5-7-5-7-7)
soft powdered words flew
stirred by mischievous wind sprites
clearly unaware
that I had no use for them
each day a blank page is best
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Photo: pixabay.com
Form: Tanka (5-7-5-7-7)
hidden in cloth folds
ancient wound plagues mellow psyche
unconscious bubbles
slow surreptitious scratching
wound weeps and nothing resolved
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under awareness, Free Verse, poem, psychology, Tanka
 | Colleen Chesebro on Old Salt – a poem by Pau… |
 | VJ on Dropping Out – a poem by… |
 | datta on Dropping Out – a poem by… |
 | poetisatinta on Pointed – a poem by Paul… |
| poetisatinta on Dropping Out – a poem by… |
Random thoughts, life lessons, hopes and dreams
Reviews, Commentary, Essays, Poetry
Publishers of The Mamba Journal
Haiku express moments; hailstones are momentary things; frozen in time, they are stored here in the circle's icebox
people who write poetry
A literary magazine publishing fiction, non-fiction, and poetry.
Poetry | Art | Prose
poetry
parallax 