The one flame

The one flame

From darkness to light
            the diurnal round
sleep and then wake
            go out into the world
and be someone
            who carries an entire
world of language within
            we are all after all
composites of previous
            thought and language

Shakespeare knew
            what it was to be human
and to some small degree
            we know what is was
to be Shakespeare and so
            his words echo in the gut
and while there is
            a spark of life in me
my mind will hop from
            one thought to another
as the same old questions
            repeat time and again
whether or not
            it is nobler in the mind

As a riderless horse
            canters across a field
for no purpose
            other than to feel alive
I love the sound of words
            and names resonate within
they come charged
            with all manner of emotions
love being the strongest
            and in the deepest darkness
the one flame
            that never dies

John Lyons

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Music of the spheres

Music of the spheres

Creation
            by the power of the mind
or by the skill of the hand
            in fact both simultaneously
love that I perceive
            through this dense fog of being
that is a pleasure of mind and body
            located in the imagined heart
the hypotenuse that binds
            thought and feeling

Music of the spheres
            or earth echo
all songs of praise
            or in praise of
the power of breath
            As I so breathe
and memory substantial
            sacrosanct
a temple constructed
            to preserve
every inkling of love
            as fingers caress the petals
before raising the rose
            to the lips

She who abides there
            will know for all time
that she is the one
            Poetry a place
not just for the genuine
            but for the clarity
of undisputed emotion
            what moves the soul
through this moving
            creation

John Lyons

 

First date

First date

How to speak
            of that moment in time
before time existed
            and how to measure
that pre-moment
            before the Big Bang
and all our energy
            all our time
all our particles
            date from then
the first date
            hence the expression
stars in their eyes
            is no metaphor

and all our love
            the life and death
of us all contained
            within the cycle
and not a hair
            can be added
or subtracted
            to or from the universe
all the feelings
            the hopes and desires
that we embody
            the quantum mechanics
of our existence
            self-knowledge
data-mined
            in the kiss

John Lyons

Child on a train

Child on a train

In the infant’s eyes
            I see the glint
of innate curiosity
            sitting in his pushchair
his head turning
            this way and that
taking it all in
            pondering
though as yet
            without language

Arms stretched out
            fingers spread
his attention alternating
            between his parent
and the world
            thinking : mother
what have you
            got me into ?

John Lyons

 

Snow moon

Snow moon

Was this the snow moon
            poised low above the horizon
in the east this morning
            How the light reveals
and yet plays tricks
            the optical illusions
from rainbows
            to the crock of gold

And how each of us
            longs for a mirage
to relieve the angst
            of our inner deserts
And how we see ourselves cast
            in the planets and in the stars
We dream of Venus
            and of Mars and so set them
on imaginary paths
            How far have the particles
that made me
            travelled in their own
lifetime or yours
            in your lifetime too ?
Extracts as we are
            of distant energies
we bear the imprint
            of the universe
in our disparate souls
            and in our love
that seeks to bind
            the cosmic dust
into a marriage
            of perfect being

John Lyons

 

Shakespeare’s pulse

Shakespeare’s pulse

Shakespeare’s pulse
            is in the language
his poetry speaks
            for itself
and he offers
            no explanation
Simply put
            it is what the words say
The culture is not
            in the knowledge
but in the expression
            He puts breath
into desire
            and all those questions
that make us human
            and so we wonder
and we want
            but only love
brings reconciliation
            and contentment

John Lyons