Yes spring is here
finally you may say
a daffodil in every garden
crocuses on every lawn
and every city bird
will be nursing
laryngitis tonight
And with spring
fresh hope
for another year
wiping clean the slate
past failures consigned
to the bin
and who knows
where love will lead us
or where we will lead
our love
John Lyons
The shadow of this world
felt and lived
by the palpable soul
by the other me
that lies deep within
vocal with speech
the energies of action
and the energies of thought
experience transformed
into eloquence and wisdom
at least that is the desire
all fear dissipated
fear of being oneself
life moments culled from the air
by the angel of wisdom
thoughts of the mind
raised and transfigured
truth incorruptible
the ebb and flow of the sea
desire and satisfaction
day and night
all nature in undulation
from mulberry leaf
to the finest silk
thought is function
character above intellect
to observe the demands
of our task
to catalogue the stars
of the human mind
John Lyons
The wind is back with a vengeance
just when we thought it safe
to say that the winter was over
the wind is rattling wooden fences
the tree branches with their fresh
green leaves are thrashing violently
and the birds are totally confused
not sure what melodies to sing
or whether to sing at all :
it’s really quite an agitated world
the sort that disturbs dogs
that may prefer to sleep it out
in their baskets or go for a long
romp on the heath chasing sticks or
whatever curve ball they are thrown
On Thursday I saw a fox moving
in the undergrowth outside Lewisham
its bright coat barely visible
but I could tell that it had had
a good winter and was in good shape
for the coming summer months
it is their world after all as much
as it is ours so nothing to begrudge
and foxes are so true to type
they know nothing of betrayal
nothing of deceit being as honest
as the day is long and they are such
shrewd observers of human behaviour
they know their place and they know exactly
when to come and when to go
John Lyons
what is more beautiful
than the night
and to lie in your arms
because you are beautiful
you have broken
perfection’s heart
here where the air is clear
the moon low and the sun flat
nothing can go wrong
so as to honour your beauty
roses will soon bloom and
hives will be filled with honey
grapes will be gathered
and pressed into wine
to toast your beauty
in the deep dark night
in awe of your beauty
stars may go astray
and poets could lose their minds
as they struggle to contain
your beauty within their lines
what is more beautiful
than the day when I may
lie in your arms again
John Lyons
How quickly a beautiful thing
becomes real
I mean like a painting
or a poem or a piece of music
something fresh and exciting
brought into the world
by a creative mind
through the powers
of the imagination
sensibility and sensitivity
part of our DNA
and we crave beauty
and the intensity
of the pleasures that it brings
to the senses
and how a person too
enters our world
is slowly stripped
of the strangeness
of strangers and becomes
a reality in our lives
someone indispensable
someone we love
above all others
and an attachment
is formed
built on the power
of words exchanged and upon
unwavering trust
John Lyons
How many days does it take
I mean really take
to make a year
and how many years
add up to a life
and what’s a life ?
words are cheap
words words words
two pigeons on the window ledge
cooing dating mating
it’s a black and white world
which is why they are grey
he says—
no why don’t we do
what we said
we were going to do
while Miss Universe says
but I can change my mind
meanwhile the grass is getting greener
everywhere daffodils are sprouting
and the first bees of the season
are out on patrol :
it must be spring
so the syrupy sap rises
and a young man’s thoughts
turn to love
John Lyons
Yes these days do occur
blue skies and sunshine all the way
and me feeling good
about life as we head
into spring and all the promise
that summer days will bring
if you could peer beneath my skin
you’d see that I’m full of hope
perhaps naively so but full
nevertheless and for a change
I expect things to go my way
that all the chaotic
bits and pieces of my life
will finally fall into place
The dawn chorus
is currently in full throttle
as I write these words
and I think of the timeless
pleasures of pen and ink
the technologies of composition
and the need to express :
there is a kind of certainty
in birdsong and in all sorts
of instinctive behaviour
and today I too feel certain
about my feelings
about my hopes and fears
for the future and how totally
I am at peace with my past
If you were to ask me
am I in love I would say
that’s none of your business
but I know how I feel
and I hope you do too
John Lyons
The thought occurs to me :
would a bird want to be
a butterfly or vice versa ?
How attractive
are the featherless
paper-thin wings
how appealing
the more robust plumage
: each to his own
I suppose
Wallace Stevens was
obsessed with numbers
John Ashbery can be
a little snooty about some
of Frank O’Hara’s poetry
but Frank’s verse
is so full of friends
it’s like a party on a page
and Ashbery’s pales
in comparison
Today the rain has returned
and I observe
the drizzle’s delicate lament
for lost time
for the sad poetry of our being
for the exuberance of our love
lately so neglected
and for so much
of our lives
gone to waste
John Lyons
In the marshlands
alongside the railway line
that runs between
Dartford and Barnehurst
there are sheep grazing
always the same sheep
with their long woolly coats
I’ve never seen them sheared
nor at any time
have I seen lambs :
cutting the marshlands
almost in two
is a narrow meandering stream
which may or may not
run into the River Cray
there are extensive reedbeds
too and these never seem
to alter through time
and every time I pass by
these wetlands I look
for signs of human life
someone perhaps
tending to the sheep
but I’ve never seen a soul
and it makes me wonder
John Lyons
Those sultry nights I slept
in the rain forest in Tikal
lying in a hammock
watching the fireflies flit
back and forth
listening to the owls
I would think of the temples
I had explored during the day
and how the forest
had closed in on the past
and regained its territory
how everywhere
the thick roots of plants
were prizing the stonework
apart causing the masonry
to crumble
mostly reducing the once proud city
to rubble
and through
the frail morning mists
deer and monkeys could seen
roaming the grounds
at the base of the great pyramid
indifferent to the sculpted
limestone stelae upon which
the Mayans had recorded
pivotal moments from their history
: and at night lying
in the hammock
I remember asking myself
what I was doing
so far from home and love
and whose history
was I really exploring
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 