Image by Raphael Stäger from Pixabay
It Undoes Me
Scales need counterbalancing
like so many things,
recipes come to mind
everything finely tuned
like an amplifier,
but when cars come around
our corner on a day
at a time
in that gear
the sound puts my balance out,
I can't locate the
historical moment,
but it undoes me
for no apparent reason
and my mood becomes flat.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Filed under awareness, cars, Free Verse, poem, psychology
At dVerse Lillian is hosting Open Link Night – the night we choose a poem to post.
Image: an artist’s impression of an asteroid, from abc7chicago.com
Mere Puff
Rumours of asteroids
migrating the galaxy
looming large,
speculative dangers
imagined endings
come to nought as
carbon catches fire,
tail trailing orange
across the sky
deconstructing
scattering everywhere
flamboyant, gauche
but of little consequence,
nowhere the anticipated
lasting impact
mere puff, pig in a poke
burning, self-consuming.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Colleen Cheseboro (Tanka Tuesday) has invited us to write syllabic poetry focussing on the Japanese micro seasons as laid out below from January 1 – February 3. The phrase in the third column must be incorporated in the poem.
| January 1–4 | 雪下出麦 Yuki watarite mugi nobiru | Wheat sprouts under snow |
| 小寒 Shōkan (Lesser cold) | ||
|---|---|---|
| January 5–9 | 芹乃栄 Seri sunawachi sakau | Parsley flourishes |
| January 10–14 | 水泉動 Shimizu atataka o fukumu | Springs thaw |
| January 15–19 | 雉始雊 Kiji hajimete naku | Pheasants start to call |
| 大寒 Daikan (Greater cold) | ||
| January 20–24 | 款冬華 Fuki no hana saku | Butterburs bud |
| January 25–29 | 水沢腹堅 Sawamizu kōri tsumeru | Ice thickens on streams |
| January 30–February 3 | 鶏始乳 Niwatori hajimete toya ni tsuku | Hens start laying eggs |
For January 15 – 19
Form: Haiku, Kigo phrase – when pheasants start to call
did you feel that sound
the moment of hope is when
pheasants start to call
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
At dVerse Melissa is hosting Poetics with an invitation to read, listen and take inspiration from Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash.
dVerse Poets – Poetics – Folsom Prison Blues
Photo: facinghistory.org So, looking back, how have we come back to this?
Tortured
There are things that boil inside me
like a big black ugly brew
I’m busy living, teaching love and
peace are not yet through but I’m
trapped inside this culture of
a fascist violent wasteland
that sorely tests my love -
that’s what tortures me, and
though I’d never pull it, I’m
triggered by their smugness
and I’d love to whack em one
in the end I know that it’s not
the way it’s done, so I’ll
skewer them with ink and
I’ll let them simmer slow.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
At dVerse De is hosting the Quadrille (44 words sans title) with an invitation to write about – Smile or some form of the word. For more detail follow the link below:
dVerse Poets – Quadrille – Smile
Image by Prashant Kumar from Pixabay
I Can See For Smiles
One smile leads to another
as reminiscence burgeons
to connections that flare through
my body to facial muscles
back to my heart,
a reified loop of happiness
orienting my polarity,
I don’t need to look far
because I can see
for smiles and smiles.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
For Tanka Thursday Poetry Challenge No. 47, Robbie has invited us to write a syllabic poem using the word – Oxymoron. For more info follow the link.
Image by laurentvalentinjospi0 from Pixabay
Form: Tanka (5-7-4-7-7)
I see you're having
a tidy little dinner there
plate's empty in fact
yes it's new on the menu
government intelligence
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Photo: parenting.firstcry.com
Yellow Wellies
Have you ever noticed
red clay on yellow wellies
like tomato sauce and eggs,
or how fat the drops of
rain are on the rubber
like clear lady birds
clinging to the gloss,
water magnifying tiny
particles of what we
callously call dirt.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
I’m thrilled to have two poems in the latest anthology from The Chaos Section Poetry Project ‘What We Hold On To’ A big thank you to the Editors Nick Allison and Rachel Armes-McLaughlin for their patient help and work on this, and thanks to to Melissa Lemay for hooking me into this. You can obtain a PDF from The Chaos Section Poetry Project Paperback copies are coming soon – purchase of the print copy helps cover the cost of this wonderful project 😀
What We Hold On To brings together voices navigating grief, uncertainty, love, resistance, and the daily work of staying human. Created as a shared space for reflection and resilience, this collection gathers poets writing from lived experience—illness, parenthood, anxiety, joy, protest, and hope.
In uncertain times such as these, these poems do not offer easy answers. Instead, they linger in kitchens and bedrooms, in quiet moments and hard conversations, in the small rituals that help us keep going when the world feels unsteady.
Through witness and tenderness, humour and resolve, this collection traces the ways we cope, connect, and carry on—together.
Paul Vincent Cannon
Image: found at vk.com
Dictator Dance
Mussolini
swinging in the breeze
Hitler suicided then
burned to a crisp
Vargas suicided
Diem executed
Tombalbaye shot
Trujillo assassinated
Amin exiled
Habyarimana assassinated
Gaddafi shot in an alley
Hussein executed
Ceausescu executed
Pinochet died in custody
Somoza assassinated
Marcos exiled
Mengistu sentenced to death, fled.
Taylor imprisoned
Alvarez imprisoned
Habre imprisoned
Milosevic died in prison
Mugabe fled
Ne Win died while
under house arrest
Assad exiled,
it never ends well
so, from the list of
excrement remaining
who's next, and
how will they end?
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
Image by Андрей Архипов from Pixabay
The Rut
Tranch as trench
life as mud,
the wherewithal of a
barbed wire calendar,
a mind-field waiting
to be cleared of
the dross of past lives
littered in no one’s land,
harbouring a treaty
shots fired
no retreat
words bleeding,
doves circling
our tears,
dog tags to be
collected as evidence
of going over the top.
Copyright 2026 ©️Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®️
This originally appeared on pvcannon.bsky.social November 21, 2025 for Poems About – Dog Tags prompt.
Filed under awareness, communication, Free Verse, poem
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