The other night
making my way home
a large creamy moon
distended in the sky
not quite full
in fact on the wane
and bulging gravidly
as though about to burst
and pour its light
across the face of the earth
but it has no light
and knows nothing
of love or our hopes
or dreams though
it rules the tides
of our emotions
John Lyons
Love is the theory
of everything
he said
love is the wholeness
of the rose
the beauty
of the honeycomb
the frail wings
of the honeybee
that perform
such humble service
Nothing in nature
is incomplete
or lacking in parts
and there is unanimity
among molecules
which are simply
cosmic breath
atoms that perpetually
bind and bind again
all of us drawn up
out of the earth
by the energies
of love
John Lyons
How clear
on this bright morning
the fine fibres
spun by industrious spiders
the silky threads of light
strung from beam to beam
from wall to wall
weightless lines of beauty
that colonise the thin air
and are there
to entangle if not to entice
the most innocent of prey
the aphid and the mosquito
the bluebottle fly
all grisly grist
to that particular mill
John Lyons
Our stories are in our genes
our genes in our stories
Olson called them
the genes of the soul
the dreams of light and dark
the voyages of fantasy
of exploration and discovery
the confrontation with our fears
the defeat of all those
who would oppress us
with their mythical truths
Theseus had a thread
and Ariadne’s love
and the Minotaur died
and by the skin of his teeth
Ulysses made it home
John Lyons
Renaissance clouds
Against the blue sky
Love in the air
It’s all about perception
The eyes walk further
Than the feet
Not a cloud in the sky
Birds trawling for flies
Summer days that will
Never return
Make the most
No fool like an old fool
It takes a lifetime!
A wise man
Lives in ignorance
Of his own wisdom
Poetry is taking a break
Poetry is having a rest
The rest is silence
johnjosephlyons 