Taking Leave – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


dVerse Poets – Quadrille


Photo: eskipaper.com

“Always ask yourself: “What will happen if I say nothing?”  Kamand Kojouri

Taking Leave

Languid hangs the mist
on my sea of tranquility,
my soul becalmed so restful,
taking leave of the six p.m. paranoia,
that hurricane of disruption
lurking in the corners of the mind
nurturing thoughts
as a cuckoo inhabits another’s,
for sanity
best set aside.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Paul, pvcann.com

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My Lonesome Spot


I drown in your thoughts

He said he couldn’t read me anymore

Because my emotions became his

You’ll never see him here in my tears

My love lingers in the air just above my head

His many words for me are for someone else now

I have a way of doing that

I’m in this state and I shall stay a while

Oh but he was just a shiny thing

Something to nibble at

I tell me myself these things

I’m stupid and naughty

And I play in my lonesome spot

A lonesome for which there is no cure

Perhaps I’ll bury my nose in dusty pages and be lost in poets of old

Pretend all the love was written for me


Photo- shutter stock

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Unrecognizable – #poetry of #life

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

Why is it I don’t recognize, the face reflected back at me?

What is it about her look, I no longer wish to see?

Sunken, hollowed cheeks, color pale, in shades of white

Turn away, bow my head, I can’t take my ghostly sight

Missing is the sparkle, once, so prominent in these eyes

Replaced by tears of sadness, rushing, falling, from my eyes

No strength to fight the demon, it’s taking all I’ve got

Too weak to go on trying, yet too stubborn, to accept this lot

Determined for a comeback, keep my focus on the prize

Restore myself, back to life, there is no compromise.

Authors note:  I am still unwell, trying to find the end of this madness.  Four weeks and counting.  I know what it isn’t, but not what it is.  I see a specialist on Wednesday.  I pray I finally find out what demon…

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This Is My Passion ~ A Poem By Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet

Walt's Writings

The art of beauty with words
Artistic writing
That stirs a reader’s imagination
Or emotions
I am a Poet
I write to express my feelings
The stirrings in my heart
Become words in my poems
The after of my life
Becomes the present of my poetry
My words express the ice and fire
That exists in the alleys of my mind
My eternal beliefs and feelings
Pour out of my pen
And become the light in my darkness
This is my poetry
This is my passion

~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2019 All Rights Reserved

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in the graveyard of one’s heart

Katie Kay

in the graveyard of one’s heart
are the skeletons of the past

where only ghosts roam the grounds
part of the world immortal vast

sepulcher upon sepulcher
of dark energy smolders

yet the blood and the body
only grow colder

and in this deep cavity
where my chilled heart lay

a misty path is carved
awaiting the light of day

but no matter where i go
and no matter what i do

my heart controls me
and yours controls you


Why am I publishing this guy when it’s not even October yet? I’m not entirely sure. But I just wrote this poem yesterday after I woke up, and I knew it needed to go live on the blog.

Yesterday I had this recurring phrase in my head: In the graveyard of one’s heart. I have no idea where this came from, but I knew this would become part of…

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