Thomas
I shall never
forget
his definition
of friendship
A friend
is someone
who doesn’t
ask too many
questions
John Lyons
Year: 2017
Thursday
Thursday
Not much happens on a Thursday
and as today is Thursday
I’m not expecting too much to happen
same old grey sky same old sun
struggling to make its presence felt
I look at this way :
perhaps Thursday is the day
that the stars change gear
in preparation for Friday
when everything seems to happen
On Fridays we all seem to enter
a new phase in which our bodies
and our minds are driven
by a rogue moon that just wants
to party all weekend long
There are deeper questions
regarding infinity and mortality
the definition of truth and beauty
and the importance of love in our lives
but today is Thursday
and to be quite honest
I haven’t the heart to go deep
John Lyons
Cold snap
Cold snap
So today it’s another cold snap
Just when I thought I could
put away the woollens and settle
into my summer wardrobe
I notice that the grey clouds
are moving down from the north
and through another window
I can see that the bushes are all
shivering and it’s strangely silent
in the garden as though the birds
are having a lie-in on account
of the low temperatures
I do love it when the sun is out
and I do miss it when
it’s nowhere to be seen
Of course we’re related
and there’s not a tissue in my body
that has not been created
by the transformation
of energies from the sun :
to say we’re practically family
would be no exaggeration at all
John Lyons
Petal petulance
Petal petulance
Pink and lilac tulips
in a tall glass vase
an unerring beauty
that will fade and droop
as the days pass
as the hours expire
to think that in the heavens
there are no wise stars
that in this universe
so full of eyes
the world will relapse
that love and tenderness
may be depleted
by tides of naked sorrow
compassion for others
withered in the cruel reign
of blind greed and contempt
life cheapened and tainted
by the dark dissolving
human heart
Roses red and white
that draw blood on the thorn
fragrant flames of sunshine
snipped from the bed of life
John Lyons
Plus ça change
Plus ça change
Being lost for words
and being speechless
is not the same
nothing is ever the same
things are or they are not
but they’re never the same
similes are absurd
as no one thing
is like another
Gertrude Stein taught us
that not even repetitions
are the same
a rose is a rose is a rose
is an equilateral triangle
of competing energies
each rose qualifying
the other ones
one after another
When Elaine de Kooning
portrayed Frank O’Hara
standing in her studio
first she painted
the structure of the face
above the tall lean body
and when she had finished
she wiped out the face
so that the portrait
would more closely
resemble the subject
the portrait and the subject
were not the same
nothing is ever the same
John Lyons
Lyric
Lyric
These are the candles we light
day after day
and how brightly they shine
night after night
these are the moments
of illumination in our lives
and how they glow
day after day
night after night
this is the life we live
day after day
night after night
this is the love
that lights up our lives
day after day
night after night
John Lyons
London marathon
London marathon
Thousands of men
and women and children
crossing a bridge
all ages all shapes all sizes
all faiths all creeds
every denomination
and of every ability
crossing a single bridge
one end to the other
of a finite bridge
the clump of their feet
on the boards of the bridge
and on the sidelines
thousands urging them on
the air thick with their
cheers and their applause
life from one end
to the other
John Lyons
The last clean shirt
The last clean shirt
So Monday morning
I look into the closet
and there it is
hanging there
the last clean shirt
and it’s ironed
and ready to wear
but it’s the last clean shirt
and I have a whole week
ahead of me
It’s a white shirt
and for some reason
I think of Othello and Shakespeare
and wonder if he
was ever in this situation
or Walt Whitman or John Donne
or any of the other metaphysicals
for that matter —not that I would ever
compare myself to any of them
it’s just a thought
but who did wash and iron
their shirts for them ?
and so I watch the short film
by Alfred Leslie with subtitles
written by Frank O’Hara
and I discover that
the last clean shirt
is a metaphor
for ashes to ashes
and dust to dust
and please see that my grave
is kept clean
John Lyons
Each new day
Each new day
It’s a grey start to the day
I just saw two crows disappear
behind the row of trees
that can be seen from my window
and I wonder what they’re up to
where they’re going with such
clear unwavering purpose
—who knows
In the distance I hear a train
and I know that I’ll soon
be out and travelling on one
heading into town and
into the thick of the new day
I look at the forecast
and it says that the sun
will appear around ten
this morning and I’m pleased
: it rained in the night
but the sun will fix everything
it will cast the summer flowers
in a beautiful glowing light
and bring a smile to the faces
out on the street
Each new day is a challenge
but what can you do
except make the most of it
for the time being
it’s all you have
John Lyons
Efflux of the soul
Efflux of the soul
The embarrassment
of riches
that we call life
the shapelessness
of energy all around us
that we must harness
and transform
into guided growth
and beauty
to draw out purpose
from within the chaos
the passionate celebration
of being and loving
the intimate coalescence
of adamant individualities
the spiritual clarity of art
that rejects all icons
and is the ultimate
act of survival
there is no life
without creation
how else can we
bear to exist
within time
and space
and outwit
the calendar
of doom
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 