Proposition

Let’s make the most of today
           I know it’s raining and that
the grey sky will probably not lift
           but let’s do something grand
something that’s so small
           and yet so important it might
change the course of history
           I mean our history which has no need
for a military marching band
           nor for any verbose political postures
something more like the human touch
           away from the public spotlight
something intimate and tender but
           that will further the course of humanity
let’s tie the knot that only lovers know
           tighter than ever and elegantly
in defiance of the dull monotone of a day
           we should not allow to go to waste

John Lyons

Mystery

Time is growth and decay
           renewal and removal
recall and loss of memory
           my mottled hands
marked with the stain of age
           the brittle nails with which
I cling on to dear life
           the spider-lines on my face
and yet purpose still strong
           love muscular as ever

and I think of the roses
           hardened through winter
the curved thorns that could
           tear my hands apart
fresh stems shooting up
           in springtime
the unapologetic beauty
           of new blooms
the rise and fall of it all
           and how many lips
have gone quiet
           the silence of dust
the fragility of the kiss
           and from the moment
of the first murmur
           of my heart
in my mother’s womb
           the mystery

John Lyons

That’s life

This outward journey
              from which no return
mere water light and carbon
             energy that feeds on energy
moving between waves of energy
             our days and nights
governed by starlight
             purpose unknown
and yet in time and space
             we are expression
of the universe
             its silence too
more dialectic
             than contradiction
in this vast architecture of voids
             what sense there is
in the mystery of poetry
             all that defies understanding
our seasons in heaven and hell
             our loves and losses
amid galaxies that assume
             the shape of roses
all within a chaos
             of infinite precision

John Lyons

Question

Is it the sound or the silence
           that comes in waves
the tide of natural voices
           the leaves that rustle
in the forest
           the surge of the sea
that rolls in
           that pounds
on the fine sand
           that sucks at the shore
as it retreats
           that comes and goes
comes and goes
           endlessly ?

John Lyons

None

There is
             no good
in the world
             except
out of love :

no rose
             no nightingale
no salmon rising
             no cherry blossom
nor dripping honeycomb
             no star
no unwavering constellation
             can compare

John Lyons

For the sake of words

to achieve what is possible
           in words and in actions
a little light in the darkness
           a little sense out of the tangle of words
it is madness not to be drawn to beauty
           and wilful cowardice
not to be drawn to the truth
           there are many ways in which to see
but most important when seeing
           is that it be an act of love

to see through the wiles of winter
           to know that summer will come again
that the cool winds will fade
           that the energy of sunlight
will once again ruddy my complexion
           the slothful mind will stir from the dust
that tone of light
           full of remembrance

from a pile of burning leaves smoke rising
           pear apple peach and plum in abundance
the infinite kindness of his hands
           that drew roses up from the soil into the light
the appetite for beauty never died nor for love
           see how the evening cools as the sun goes down
the silent air full of the hum of mosquitoes
           words that appear to glide along a sentence
cuckoo song and a full moon
           a fitting end to the day

John Lyons

Nakedness

Only the human species
           knows what it is
to be naked
           to get naked
to have knowledge
           of one’s body
or of another’s
            : an intimacy
of thought and feeling
           so common and yet so private
the making of love
           just as a world is made
a love-creation
            the rich cluster of charms
in the human body
           congress the primeval process
a love-life fed with language
           with words and whispers
into her slumbering ear
           and in loving we bear
the ultimate witness
           to ourselves
gestures pared back
           to the essential
so as to reach the intrinsic truth
           buried within us
to fall in love
           is to rise up

John Lyons

Point and counterpoint

Through the mind’s eye
           a world captured and contained
the beating blood of memory
           of sunrise and sunset
blue skies and tempestuous seas
           it’s all there
every perception
           every failure to perceive
a mind sometimes lost
           within the space of its own space
genuflections before Venus
           scorn for the purple moon
the dreary rise and fall
           of the tides

so many worlds within the world
           all held together by love’s syntax
such that a feather
           could knock me down
sweet solace of love
           beyond the lace
the nakedness of another world
           into which I am ushered
the single mind
           of perishable beauty
a tongue that mimics my murmurs
           with gleeful abandon

I carry this world within my head
           I carry this love within my heart
I am my own dishevelled destiny
           a floating consciousness
within which roses and nightingales
           and swallows and peonies
clamour for my attention
           the inventing head
and that never-ending voice
           the voice of all felt things
of every affirmation
           and every doubt
love of all love
           that longs to feel
her burnt breath on my cheek
           to light a taper
within the cathedral of her soul
           to be her celebrant for all time
to ride the muscle
           of that turbulent sea
point and counterpoint
           to her eternal sighs

John Lyons