Month: May 2017

Tulips

irlandesuk poetry

Tulips

Every colour of the rainbow
           and the fact that they will fade
is unimportant
           their beauty depends
on so many factors
           the light and the soil
in which they grew
           the evolution of their genes
how a single flower
           developed into so many
singular species
           and how we evolved
to admire them
           and to value their beauty
their long tongue-like leaves
           the slender stems
upon which a chalice
           of bright petals
is raised in a toast
           to creation

John Lyons

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Polling season

irlandesuk poetry, politics

Polling season

If it had snowed
             at least once this year
I might have been content
             or if it had rained
for forty days and forty nights
             that would have been something

to write home about :
             instead another election
is upon us and how awful
             for them to call it
during the pollen season
             how utterly thoughtless

useless these politicians
             some of them
I have to say
             get right up my nose
worse than pollen
             much

John Lyons

Vespers

irlandesuk poetry

Vespers

Last night at sunset
             the dying down of the day
birds singing
             to a very different tune
instilling a sense of distance
             and silence and peace :

one day at a time
             trusting in one’s breath
and in all those things
             dear to the heart
the consolation of a fixed
             starry firmament
belief in oneself
             and in the day to come

John Lyons

Orchids

irlandesuk poetry

Orchids

I think of the orchids
             the solitary lives they live
a beauty that unless
             given pride of place
withers unknown
             and unloved

I think of time
             and the terror its exercises
on those who have everything
             to lose and nothing to gain
as it marches on relentlessly

either our lives change
             or we change our lives
we take control of the reins
             and live according to our choices
and love decisively
             for the moment and always
or we allow time to have
             the last laugh
which believe me
             is not funny

Hampton Court

irlandesuk poetry

Hampton Court

Half the shell of a coconut
             hanging by a piece of string
from the window frame
             of a room close to the Great Vine

a tiny blue tit appears
             out of nowhere
and perches inside
             the shell and pecks
at the white flesh
             and with each thrust
of its beak the shell spins
             round and round

and I just stand and watch
             until the bird has had its fill
and flies off into the last
             of the gentle April showers
on the last day of the month
             and the sun comes out
and it gladdens my heart
             and my day is made

John Lyons