Confab With Me

Smile with boldness, smile brave, for nothing shine brighter when a mind is liberated, when it is not a slave

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Sparks Of Hope – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


dVerse Poets – Quadrille

De at dVerse has invited us to write a Quadrille (44 words) using any form of the word stir.



“Sometimes a flame can shrink or waver, but sometimes a flame refuses to go out. It flares up from the  faintest ember to illuminate the darkness, to burn in spite of overwhelming odds.”  Karen Hesse.

Sparks Of Hope

The ancient hearth had dimmed,
what once was stoked
now barely glowed,
as we arrived
darkness shrouded round,
a question formed my mind,
to stir or not to stir,
the western light fading fast,
so I spirited the coals,
breath erupting sparks
of hope.

©Paul Vincent Cannon


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A recipe to start the day


Take a cup of patience
Stir it with respect
Add a dash of wit
And a pinch of praise
No grilling or [pry]ing
Season with the spice of life
Top with love and kindness
And you’re all set—
Serve with the warmth of sunshine.

In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Poems Stirred, Not Shaken hosted by De who asks us to stir up a poem of exactly 44 words inspired by the word “stir.”Head over here to join the prompt!dverse

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#Haibun: Shades of Blue

Charmed Chaos

On days like this when the wind is chill and the sun seldom peeks through the clouds, I wrap myself in a shabby cotton sweater. I am a butterfly in a blue cocoon, safe from the world and harm.

It’s an odd looking sweater, with snaps as opposed to buttons, and has always been misshapen, a loose mess. I bought it years ago, off a Macy’s sale rack for next to nothing. It’s lightweight and not very warm, but for some reason its scent brings to mind that of an old friend hugging me. There are random holes in it from snagging it on a rose bush or the huge thorns on the lemon tree, yet I cannot part with it.

When I need solace, I go in search of the sweater. Because it is so old I tend to throw it off when the temperatures rise, leaving it in…

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