The be-all
It is the be in being
in becoming
in believing
in belonging
in befitting
in behaving
in beginning
the betrothal
with the be-all
and the end-all
John Lyons
Year: 2017
Ben Turnbull at the Saatchi
Ben Turnbull at the Saatchi
Thank you Ben for reminding us
that we are all composed
of tiny snippets of other people
of their words and their actions
and their lives and their histories
and their joys and tribulations
including their deaths in sad scenarios
of heroism and sacrifice
taken from the warring
world of destruction
recreated with tiny clippings
from vintage American comic books
in which you capture the hollowness
of military bombast
and all the wasted energies
all the personal traumas
the heartbreak and loneliness
and the endless pity of war
Thank you for your unflinching
words and images broadcast
from the artistic trenches
of your very own frontline
and dispatched so as
to combat and confound
the arrogance and complacency
of those in high places
who would thoughtlessly send
young innocents to their death
in pointless and illegal wars
that bring the realm of humanity
to the very brink of twilight’s
last gleaming and so God Bless
John Lyons
Catch Ben Turnbull’s brilliant and poignant exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery, King’s Road, from 11 April to 8 May 2017.
Feelings
Feelings
It goes
without saying
that feelings
are facts as real
as the thorn
on the rose
or the rain
on the window pane
our thoughts
our emotions
our hopes
and dreams
our longings
and our lusts
these are facts
of life
that drive us
to heaven
or to hell
and back
John Lyons
The secret
The secret
You never know
when you’re going
to discover something
quite startling almost shocking
that takes your breath away
and at first you can’t quite
believe it and when you
finally do you wish
you’d never found out
and you realize that
a little knowledge
can be a dangerous thing
and that sometimes
there is just too much
information and you could
really do without it
but once the cat
is out of the bag
it’s too late and you
are stuck with it
and it can absolutely gnaw away
at your brain until
you think perhaps
you might go mad
if you don’t tell someone :
well many years ago
something like that happened to me
would you believe
an accidental discovery
that shocked me to the core
and I wish I could tell you
I really do but I can’t
John Lyons
Days like these
Days like these
On days like these
we forget who we are
and where we are too :
on these early days of summer
with unbroken blue skies
and hardly a breath of wind
and everyone out on the streets
so much more relaxed
and the parks filled
with sunbathers and roller-skaters
and the rivers lined with paddlers
and the air ringing
with the chimes of ice cream vans
and every flower bed alive
with the vibrant colours
of fresh blooms
and winter long forgotten
and it’s so good to be alive
and not to have to think
too hard for a change
John Lyons
Summer thoughts
Summer thoughts
Remembering the dappled things
in the day and how beautiful they are
how the light seeks them out
to pronounce their beauty
and to proclaim that the soul
is worn in so many places
not just in the heart or on the sleeve
: today is not a day for sadness
though if it comes today I will
embrace it and nurse it through
the dark hours until it fades
Pain passes as does sadness
and the death of others
is not my death or your death though
we are all a little diminished
nevertheless I’m happy to count
my blessings
I have seen generations
of red admirals and common
cabbages pass before me
and have lost track of the number
of dragonflies I have seen and heard
hovering over ponds and rivers
The sun is in my veins
birdsong is in my ears
and soon she will be
by my side or in my arms
and by then I will have shaved
and rolled up the sleeves
of my shirt and be fully
prepared to share the immediacy
of the moment
that is my plan
although there is no real plan
is there
John Lyons
A meditation on number
A meditation on number
Isn’t it hard to imagine
a universe with less stars
say a few thousand at most
and less planets and moons
in an outer space more akin
to our own intimate world
a cosmos of homely proportions
one we can get our head around
and yet as I look across the fields
I see birds coming and going
in their hundreds flitting
from tree to tree or cackling ducks
following the path of the winding river
swarms of swallows weaving through
the summer air feeding on a froth
of all but invisible aphids
and in all things there is the plethora
of plenty and only I am alone
John Lyons
Early morning musing
Early morning musing
The wind moving gently
under the fresh green leaves
and in the air the song
of a single bird
It’s early yet
and you are still sleeping
while I write these words
but there’s a warm glow
in the east from a sun
about to rise
and I sense that the day
our day
will be full of promise
it doesn’t take much
to make a day
these days :
yesterday it was a child
borne on her mother’s back
barely six months old
but she had piercing blue eyes
and was noticing everything
around her until she saw me
and then she stopped and stared
and in those eyes of hers
I could see the years and years
of beauty that lay ahead of her
and the love and tenderness
that she would undoubtedly inspire
and she just a young child
on a train in a papoose
John Lyons
Perhaps Paris
Perhaps Paris
Poetry that is
light on the ear
and on the mind
of swift foot
full of sunshine
and love :
it happens sometimes
but it can’t be forced
Perhaps this spring
we will go to Paris
walk hand in hand
along the banks of the Seine
or take an afternoon stroll
in the Jardin du Luxembourg
and at night in the anonymity
of the hotel room
your soft skin will beckon to mine
and we will get closer
than we have ever been
and it will last forever
John Lyons
Playa Bonita, Puerto Limón
Playa Bonita, Puerto Limón
In the grounds of the Hotel Matama
the air heavy with the fragrance
of white lilies and snapdragons
and orchids and roses
but set apart in a stony clearing
there was a caged ocelot
its smooth tawny fur
covered in a tangle
of black stripes and bars
and chains and spots
the iron bars on all four sides
of the cage offered no shelter
from the heat of the sun
and as the day drew on
its nostrils were taunted
by the rising scent
of the rolling sea
and of the wild rainforest
to the rear where it should
have been free to roam
and to hunt by night
back and forth I saw it pace
its majestic muscular pride
so cruelly and hopelessly curtailed
as in silence its paws
pounded the sad dry dust
of its humiliation
but at night
as the moon rose
and stars filled the barren skies
its howls could be heard
for miles around
and they pierced my heart
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 