Just imagine

Imagine a world
         without imagination
without words
         without the beauty
of melody and song
         without design
or representation

imagine a world stripped
         of eye-catching detail
of small gestures
         of finer points
the delicacy of lace
         the softness of silk
the creamy taste
         of an hollandaise sauce
on smoked salmon topped
         by two poached eggs
on buttered toast
         to add to your waist

imagine a cut and dried world
         in which all is repetition
in which nothing
         moves forward
and nothing recalls the past
         a humdrum world
in which Helen never lived
         and Troy never burned
a world in which
         every labour of love
was lost and no one kiss
         meant more than another

imagine the worst
         and be grateful
for whatever it is
         that you have

John Lyons

Wordiness

Sometimes a poem
         is just a thought
a single phrase
         or a single word
perhaps even a word
         that does not exist
or did not exist
         until it was invented
an essential word
         nevertheless
that defines
         essentiality
let’s call it
         nessnessness

John Lyons

Lost for words

Poetry is feeling sorry
         for itself
can hardly speak
         has a sore throat
is shivering
         should be in bed
or wrapped up
         if venturing out
needs to take it easy
         relax
let the cares of the world
         go over its head
the greed and corruption
         the self-serving politics
of trumped up politicians
         the contempt for the truth
and beggar my neighbour

Poetry could do with
         a shot in the arm
a pick-me-up
         a change of air
a dose of the warm south
         and a little love
and a little less talk
         and a lot more sleep

John Lyons

O but the rain

This is what the rain does
         when it comes in heavy bursts
that last a day or more
         it catches us by surprise
and seems to be an affront
         to our carefree natures
how dare the heavens
         rain on our parade
it drives us into self-reflection
         and the remembrance
of rains past
         when we were children
and the summer games
         were suddenly suspended
or when we were lovers
         about to embark

It is a spanner in our works
         necessary rain
that swells the fruit’s
         sweet succulence
perks up lush lawns
         of chlorophyll
yet is so often cursed
         through windows
stained with the bitter tears
         of broken dreams

John Lyons

Cosmologies

Mercury in transit
         across the face of the sun
testimony to the size
         of the universe
and to our own
         delusions of grandeur

Intelligence is perspective
         is distance and dimension
Love is intimacy
         the reconciliation
of separateness
         within a shared cosmos
and so we explore
         its origin and course
light that flickers
         a heart that flutters
a wanton nakedness draped
         across our star-bred flesh
a wantingness
         a longingness
language refracted
         through shards of desire

Imagine the loneliness
         of trees bereft of birdsong
of the aching rose
         that the bee ignores
of an angel
         with no message to tell

John Lyons

A new text

These are the woven moments
         the tapestry of our life
down by the river
         men with their rods
and small buckets of live bait
         sit and talk and while away
the morning
         waiting for the fish to bite
a clear blue sky and the tide
         racing in across the mudflats
Couples stroll hand in hand
         and it is as if nothing matters
the earth is a paradise
         if only we knew
how to put it to good use
         and pears unpicked
will drop in due course
         birds will fall silent
in the warm fields
         and at night the stars
will bring a remembrance

Life is supple and turbulent
         but its blood never fails
it rises and falls with the tides
         the ebb and flow of the hours
and dissipates with our dreams

She is her passion
         she is all of a hush
as she surrenders
         her soul in sacrifice
There is no grief
         no loneliness
no nostalgia
         for forgotten forests

She blooms
         she comes in gusts
the elation in her eyes
         a rose stripped of its thorns
in the throes
         of an inarticulate convulsion
sweet pangs of pleasure
         coursing through her veins

John Lyons

Organicity

From the balcony
         suspended
from the fronds
         of a coconut palm
a spider web
         long filaments
of sunlight
         optic fibers
wired to catch
         living food
a miniature
         giants’ causeway
as seen in Salvador
         or Country Antrim
and again that mystery
         how the earth
transforms iron
         and calcium
magnesium and zinc
         into nutrition
delivered fresh
         on the wing
caught in the tangle
         devoured at leisure

John Lyons

Life support

Cattle graze
         above the rich red clay
the deep green grass
         the long hours of sunlight
the cool waters that run down
         from the moors
the mists and the rain
         hay in the winter
sunlight stored
         rolled into bales

For all the technology
         it is still essentially
a pastoral life
         and whatever we consume
be it grain or meat or fish
         it is life supporting life
supporting love
         supporting life

John Lyons

Happy holidays

Blindingly blue skies
         full-throated birds barely able
to contain themselves
         anxious to get down
to the boisterous business
         of what big boy and girl birds
do when the summer hots up
         —nestle down
into cosy nests
         while the hay shines

On my way to vote for democracy
         – London may once again
have a mayor –
         I pass a shop that sells
reptiles and snakes
         and offers boarding
pure and simple
         not the water sport
favoured by the architects
         of the illegal war in Iraq
—no need to name names
         they know who they are
they sleep with their
         ghastly reflections
every night

No

these kennels
         are the real deal
for newts and spiders
         for lizards and tortoises
scorpions and vipers
         for frogs and bearded dragons
for whatever creeps
          and whatever crawls

John Lyons