Saturday morning

Saturday morning

You’re getting ready
            large rollers in your hair
the dryer in your hand
            your eyes in the mirror

More beautiful than ever
            you throw a smile my way
Today there’s no agenda
            we’ve thrown the clocks away

John Lyons

 

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An indelible mark

An indelible mark

There are traces of you
            in every aspect of my life
practices of yours
            that I’ve adopted
unconsciously

You’re there
            in the rhythms of my day
there at the window
            in Horsely Down
in Shad Thames
            waving me goodbye

I taught you to observe
            whether the clocks
in public places
            were working or not

You taught me
            so much more
that love is gentle
            and timeless
and that it collects
            no dust

You have left an indelible mark
            on my flesh and blood
You are there
            in all my breath
in every thought
            and word and deed

John Lyons

The colour of emotion

feelings
The colour of emotion, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

The colour of emotion

These are my feelings
            a redness and a blackness
and a whiteness and a blueness
            randomly organised
into a provisional chaos
            that will change with time
as the pain passes
            as the paint cures
as the oils dry
            and the sadness drains
and there is peace once again
            in my heart

John Lyons

 

Raking over old ground

Raking over old ground

The simplicities of childhood
            that we carry with us all our lives
hope springs in springtime
            new life and lambing in the fields
daffodils grown and bought in bunches
            the lighter evenings
and a lighter heart
            the earth freshly groomed
and the prospect of love
            Resurrection and endless return
the promise of the coming months
            our pulses fired by the sun
and our delight in the swifts
            and swallows that return to the air

No trace of their human shadows
            down by Shad Thames
last year’s love nest abandoned
            the blinds drawn
and she gone south
            to nurse her shattered dream
to displace the memory
            of all that she had
of all that she so carelessly and yet
            so wilfully threw away

John Lyons

Merciful moon

Merciful moon

Full wholesome immaculate moon
            I have waited for you all my life
your perfect roundness in the dark sky
            your dimpled surface that shines down
and illuminates our nightly ventures
            the stuff we play at
our trusted dreams
            All my life
waiting for fulfilment
            for someone whose love would
shake me to the core of my being
            moon without shadow without guile
hues of ivory or soft white linen
            star-kissed ever faithful moon

John Lyons

 

Maritime matters

blood and snow
Blood and snow, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Maritime matters

The hypnotic sound of the sea
            breaking on the shore
the hydraulic power of the waves
            that race in and appear to trip
and crash down on the shingle
            the rasp as the waters retreat
the white surf lacing the beach
            Something primeval within us
nostalgia for the ocean depths
            from which we emerged
and for a simpler form of life
            for that prime motility
that brings us to where
            we are today

The sea runs in our veins
            with all the essential salts
star warmth marine blood
            stoking the complexities
of human relations
            the come and go upon dry land
She loves me she loves me not
            another shore another sea
there is always another
            another and another

John Lyons

Blood and snow

Blood and snow

Those early days were the best
            when we first travelled together
and you brought blueberries
            or cherries to snack on the train

I remember how your eyes lit up
            when I asked you that question
in the Southwark Tavern and how
            unconsciously you licked your lips

I remember the night we spent
            in Bruton and all the love we made
all the fun             Snow on the platform
            where we waited for the return train

the boys throwing aimless snowballs
            across the tracks and the young sailor
telling us of his life at sea 
            and the radiance of your smile

John Lyons