New combinations
of old words
the linguistic dice
thrown time
and again
hoping
for something fresh
And how much
of my soul
should I bare
or how much
of the world’s
machinations
: Keats with
his pottery
figures frozen
for all time
John Lyons
Take pride
in the simplest
of things
do what must be done
well
strip your life back
to what matters
to who matters
and be aware
of the whys
and the wherefores
of what is to be done
Respect those
who have gone before
but do not allow yourself
to be shackled to the past
the only respect
that the dead deserve
is that they loved
generously
and were true to the truth
the moral questions
never fade
never alter
the truth is
non-negotiable
as is beauty
as it love
John Lyons
I turn a blind eye
to your beauty
but cut roses
to bring to you
my fingers dripping
with the blood
from the wounds
in the flesh
that the thorns
tore but I turn
a blind eye
to all that
your lips your smile
the light in your eyes
the softness of your skin
the tone of your voice
the consummate calm
of each gesture
as you move
through your day
and the love
the love
I turn a blind eye
to your beauty
John Lyons
. . . to get down
among the deeds
to roll one’s sleeves up
and be prepared
to get one’s hands dirty
while there’s life
in the old dog
a change is coming
if we make it
how the high winds
excite the birds
they fly back and forth
never perching
on the swaying branches
and above
the grey clouds race
and we know that we are
on the cusp of change
winter dances
to a different tune
crows veer in the sky
playing catch me
if you can
if you dare
John Lyons
. . . as it has always been
Olson is talking about
the moral struggle
here as in America
or ancient Greece
or down among
the Guatemalan Mayans
a struggle over the land
over property over
who owns the fish
in the sea
does anyone hold
a title to them
inherited from whom
the origins of ownership
just as one bird may steal
the food from another
to feed its young
who owns the discourse
who owns the language
who owns art and poetry
the pomposity of some
so-called professionals
who despise the amateur
who look down on all from
their towering ignorant egos
Truth is the holy grail
and beauty shall be known
by its innocence
by its wholesome disclosure
as it has always been
the struggle is moral
John Lyons
. . . and now the sun sets
on a day in which the sky
turned blue end to end
after the early morning cloud
lifted and dwindled into nothing
and what has been achieved
what words of consolation
were uttered and what meeting
of minds occurred
what satisfaction meted out
How can anyone observe
the earth and think that chaos
is the norm in this creation
in which the globe offers us
all we need to engage
in the pursuit of happiness
distress is a bitter concoction
poverty and deprivation
are man-made and have no place
in this the best of all possible worlds
John Lyons
What living thing
does not die
: the spirit
so they say
animus
and poetry
that cares
for the soul
what brings us
through the wreck
of our lives
the lily
the rose
the tiger
these all die too
defenceless
in the drift of days
their existence
driven by sunrise
and sunset and the need
for sustenance
not a single word
of comfort
or consolation
no entertainment
no true leisure
which is a slackening
of imperatives
to think of the clouds
whisps of water
borne on high
the stuff of life
before our eyes
the common denominator
without which nothing
or next to nothing
John Lyons
