Face

How love alters the human face
           the radiant smile
and the alertness of the eyes
           love hungers for love
and is never satisfied
           until love is returned
notice how the whole of the body
           is involved in the expression of love
it may be in the posture
           the stance of the hips
or the angle at which the head is held
           it may be in the hands that gesture
unconsciously to underline the love
           it may be in the lips
pursed and as though poised
           to give a kiss at a moment’s notice
because it is ever eager to express itself
           in the simplest most tender ways
the outward signs of inner feelings
           but it’s the face above all
that alters when love is present
           the face is often an invitation
and always an announcement
           when love is present

John Lyons

Simple

As I walk home
a string of ducks
flying overhead
heading south

sunshine
for the first time
in many days

the air feels clean
and fresh
a hint of spring

a reminder
just how good
it is to be alive

John Lyons

Less is more

The mind
           the years
the memories
           stirred

out of dust
           thought
at the speed
           of light

as the synapse
           snaps
electrifying
           love

where
           have I been
all my life
           time shared

times shared
           though we
cannot agree on
           the coordinates

what of the moon
           what of Venus
all my days
           all my nights

John Lyons

Occasional

You never know
           when a poem might happen
it doesn’t take much
           the sun may suddenly appear
through the dull grey of the day
           and lift your spirits
above the parapet
           ready to take the risk
of being shot down
           it may be a text
from the woman you love
           which reads simply

I LOVE YOU

out of the blue
           just as you were going
about your daily
           minding your own
and you think to yourself
           someday I’m going
to get that girl
           to put it in writing
it’s that simple
           blood simple

John Lyons

A quiet house

A quiet house
and from a window
barren black trees waiting to bud
no coral or turquoise sky
just the dull grey of lingering winter

Yesterday by the railway cutting
a pigeon tossing dead leaves aside
one by one with its beak
scavenging for food under the mulch

But beauty conserved in the mind
the thought of love
that is not a perfection
much more a process
a necessary moving towards another
in which kindness and understanding
are unlimited in the give and take
of adjustment or accommodation
fingers that run through printed silk
the blue midnight of a summer shared
Life is the fugitive
and we pursue it with a passion
: to hold her and know the intimacy
of her breast and to have seen her
in times of joy and ecstasy and in sorrow
each kiss a blessing each word
a consolation

Love is neither a posture nor a demand
it sets no agenda and comes at no price
as long as it is true and mindful
Her hands reach out to me mine to her
and in that grasp
in that physical understanding
our affections are enshrined
our hearts set on a course
against the destructive surge of time
and for ourselves we needs must make
a quiet paradise in the house of our heaven

John Lyons