Insofar

Insofar as yesterday
         no longer exists
let’s not cry over it
         it’s gone
but we’re still here
         whatever blunders
we made
         they’re gone too
all in the past
         and nobody can
ever live there
         you know that
only too well
         don’t you

Sure we all make mistakes
         things we wish we’d never done
but love is a corrective
         it’s the balm that soothes the soul
and it renews the face of the earth
         every day without fail
love forgives and forgets
         and moves forward
on to the better things
         the day has to offer

Insofar as your beauty
         does not diminish
nor my love for you
         let’s make a day of it
let’s make a night of it
         let’s take eternity
one step at a time
         and enjoy each moment

John Lyons

Lines thrown away

There are no secret codes to love
nor does it ever defy understanding

simplicity is as inherent to it as beauty
to the rose or sweetness to honey

we know what it is though we may
at times wish it was something else

or someone else or another time
or another place or just another face

John Lyons

Roses

Roses are naturals
         they bloom from year to year
first the tiny bud
         that bides its time
almost imperceptible
         until it swells in spring
and as summer enters
         splits apart
to permit the petals
         to spread in all their glory

Roses are naturals
         they have no agenda
other than to be 
         what they are
to add a little glamour
         to the garden
or to the parlour
         to welcome the honeybee
to soak up the morning dew
         to languish in the late
summer sun

Roses are naturals
         they invite endless admiration
and thrive on poetry
         proud of their beauty
they long to be praised
         but remember the thorns
are always there
         and they must be handled
with great care

John Lyons

Paradise

In this neck of the woods
         not much is happening
there is a full moon
          partially eclipsed
by ragged clouds
         I can hear cars in the distance
and from time to time
         a train cuts through the silence
I suppose it must be said
         that we make our own paradise
just as we make the bed we lie on
         From my window I see
the dark shadows of trees
         hardly stirring at all
given that the air is still
         These trees are alive
and I know that many of them
         will outlive me
for a tree life is no big deal
          / storms aside /
its day-to-day is pretty routine
         growth comes in spurts
but it’s never going to be
         anything other than what it is
Under one of these trees
         foxes may gather
in the early hours
         conviviality is in their genes
just as it is in ours
         and all life depends
on the same things
         nourishment
sustenance of some sort
         energy that comes
from the stars
         stored in the cells
that we eat
         so often unthinkingly
Whether it is pride
         or simple ignorance
we are the only living
         creatures in the whole
universe that do not know
         our place and it’s perhaps
for this reason
         that we take so much
for granted
         and are so slow to act
when paradise
         our paradise
appears to slip
         from our grasp

John Lyons

To think of time

To think of time again
         to think of all things
in retrospect
         and of the years
that lie before me
         eager as I am
to live them to the full
         To think of love
and how love
         has saved me
from myself
         Not a day passes
that I do not think of her
         of the warm pulse
beneath her skin
         of our kisses
and of the way
         she takes me
into her arms
         with total acceptance
the trust within which
         there are no boundaries
To think of the future
         and of how some things
have fallen into decay
         how my veins
have thickened
         and my hair
has lost all colour
         and my limbs
their agility but
          how still the passion
drives me forward
         and how in every
real sense I am
         more alive now
than ever before
         To think of her
and how all caution
         has been thrown
to the wind
         because life
in its beauty
         is only the truth
and love lived
         to their ultimate
consequences
         no ifs and no buts

John Lyons

Perhaps

What more can you do
than take each day as it comes

my life has been a trail of words
and the past cannot be undone

just as the pink petals
of the roses you bought

are doomed to dust
though other roses 

will take their place
The earth is full of life

and full of lives
that have had their day

Perhaps these words
will transcend 

perhaps not
Perhaps our intimacy

our hunger 
for each other’s flesh

will go the distance
become the stuff of legend

and inspire young lovers
to seek ever greater heights

Perhaps
Perhaps not

John Lyons

Birth

In autumn seeds fall
         along with the leaves
within the fruit
         that rots on the ground
with flies buzzing
         and ants crawling
and sometimes
         the rain :
apples for example
         or chestnuts
horse or sweet
         seeds that needs
must fall into the ground
         which acts like a placenta
feeding the seed
         that has died
and germinated
         that sends out
a tap root to draw
         nourishment
from the earth
         and some seeds fly
are carried in the air
         on a gust of wind
that float off
         into the distance
only to settle
         sooner or later
on the ground
         into the ground
the burial before
          birth

John Lyons

Bagatelle

The last throes of summer
         warm sunshine
unblemished blue skies
         so much light during the day
not a cloud on the horizon
         it feels good to be alive
it feels good to be in love
         it feels good to be

and at night
         the temperature drops
the pleasure of cold cotton sheets
         when we enter the bed
the warmth of her skin
         against mine
the room draped in darkness
         we lie cradled
in each other’s arms
         and time bows out
leaving us all alone
         with all the hours
we could ever need
         and a tomorrow
that we pray
         may never come

John Lyons

Under the bridge 

Under the bridge
the white waters flow
down to the sea
where time is lost
and consanguinity
dilutes into nothing

Leave aside love’s carnage
the count of days
and weeks and years
the sad dismemberment
the body wracked
and rocked with
lust’s last pangs

Here was a song
set to a merry tune
Here was a life to which
the stars were no impediment
Here was a love
that should have spelt
ageless infinity

John Lyons