Intimacy

Some things are private
         they have no business
in my poems :
         words and phrases
I may use in certain situations
         with a certain person
sometimes in the darkness
         sometimes not
but meant for her ears only

I can talk about her hair
         and her lips and her kisses
and the softness of her skin
         against mine
I can tell of the sparkle
         in her brown eyes
the smile that draws me in
         closer and closer to her heart
I can tell many many things
         I could go on and on and on
about her beauty and the way
         she transforms my day
and my night
         and I am happy
to be open with you
         to share what I am feeling
but some things are private
         some words and phrases
so private and sacrosanct
         and delicious that they are
as I say
         for her ears only

John Lyons

If I say. . .

If I say that it is your eyes
         if I say that it is your lips
if I say that it is your smile
         or your kiss or your words

if I say that it is your hair
         or your cheeks flushed with love
or your breasts or your hands
         or your thighs or your legs

if I say that it is your feet
         that carry you to me
or your arms that hold me
         or your sweet breath
on my face or the warmth
         of your body against mine

Whatever I say I cannot begin
         to describe the truth of your beauty
the sheer power of your presence
         the softness and the tenderness
the energies gathered within you
         the gift that your being represents
not just to those around you
         in your day-to-day or in your work
but to me—so especially to me
         with whom you have chosen to be

John Lyons

Flowers

The bouquet that you brought me
the beautiful tulips and sunflowers

have wilted and collapsed
scattering a fine dusting of pollen

over the table where they stood
: the water in the crystal vase

has turned cloudy
the stems are now nothing more

than a spineless mush
The soft velvet petals

curled and wrinkled with age
have entirely lost their allure

They were a gesture in a moment
for a moment that could not last

and yet in time beyond time
our affections are untouched

and the kiss that they inspired
will outlive the driest dust

John Lyons

The garden

Days of lavender
         a new mown lawn
the bushes trimmed
         the earth turned in the flower beds
the peach tree heavy with fruit
         so too the pear and the bramley :
the centerpiece a bed of roses
         white and red and yellow petals
adoring the sun that made them

He sits on a wooden bench
         smoking a pipe
the smoke curling up
         above his head
: in silence he sits
         and admires his handiwork
A dragonfly darts back and forth
         over the surface of the pond
the constant chirrup of birds
         goes unheard lost as he is
in his thoughts and in his feelings

Where does love begin
         where does it end ?
The nurture of nature too
         is an act of love
a garden made of and with love
         love that is our Eden
our paradise

John Lyons

Dawn chorus

Sometimes
         although we have the words
the words are not enough
          Enough words
but they are not enough
         for all we want to say
to express all we feel
         all we hope for the future
the intensity
         of what we are living
in the moment
         the joy

there is time enough for words
         when words are enough
but for the moment
         they are not

John Lyons

Wake-up call

The west wind has nagged
         through the night
it has howled and whined
         and whipped the rain
into a frenzy
         subsiding now and then
only to return with a vengeance

The ferocious March wind
         that rattles doors
and rocks fences
         that pores over structures
searching for looseness
         for the slightest imperfection
for whatever may be torn
         from its bed and thrown
down to the ground

The bravado of rain and wind
         a rule unto itself
defiant and disdainful
         of all who sleep
a loud mouthy leveller
         it has uttered its call
throughout the dark night
         while the moon stood by
and the earth was unmoved

And yet it means nothing
         it is a process that will pass
a depression that will lift
         and the lovers that it wakes
in the early hours
         listen a while before turning
on their sides and dismissing
         its empty bluster with a kiss

John Lyons

Second attempt

A watery moon
         seen through
the sultry eyes
         of a midnight
awash with
         dissolved light

All is bound to fade
         life being neither here
nor there
         and yet at hand
in my hand and by my side
         the moment
that passes unendingly
         between us
time rescued
         from the march of time
in the love we make

The tulip and the rose
         blooms of the self-defined
gold standard
         I am who I am
and in my kiss
         in my embrace
in my body
         merged with yours
I define my love
         that love that is
the subterfuge
         outwitting the dust
that love seen in your eyes
         heard in the whisper
on your lips
         felt in the breath
shared between you and I
          passing from lung to lung
felt too in the deep
         shudder of ecstasy

John Lyons

Meditation

A watery moon seen through
         the eyes of midnight
as though dissolved
         as though all light
is bound to fade
         as though all life
is neither here nor there
         and yet I know that true life
is here by my side
         in my hand
in the moment
         that passes between us
in what we rescue
         from the march of time
in what love we make

The tulip and the rose
         have their standard
their self-defining
         quintessence : so too
there is a gold standard
         to the kiss
to the embrace
         to the bodies that merge
into one
         a definition that states
that love is the one thing
         that escapes the dust
I see it in your eyes
         I hear it on your lips
I feel it in the breath we share
         and I believe

John Lyons

Reveille

Wake at sunrise
breathe in

a full lungful
look at her

lying there
beside you

listen to her breathing
admire her beauty

and with gentle
fingertips

brush her hair
to one side

and kiss her
and give thanks

John Lyons

Siblings

A night stroll by the Thames
         the dark waters
moving silently
         under the rain
no visible moon

We have grown old
         untouched by age
altered only by our knowledge
         and by the love we have known
and the love we as children
         shared

Our memories are
         comparative fictions—
were those the years
         were those our parents
were these the events
         worth remembering ?

The times of suffering
         and the time it took
to deal with the past
         and to heal
An understanding
         at times at odds
but an affection rescued
         from the debris
from the this and that
         of incomprehension :
but that we were
         for so long estranged
and have now
         renewed our bond
is a matter of celebration
         and a love worth living

John Lyons