A world filtered

a world filtered
           through so many minds
a world expressed
           by so many tongues
an inflected beauty
           caught at moments
down the ages
           the rise and fall
of the wind
           rain or shine
the seasons
           that blow hot and cold
the face of the earth
           constantly renewed
a blackbird seen
           through a poet’s window
the long shadow
           of the once proud rose
put to the sword
           now drooping in the dust

everywhere
           the thrust of time is felt
urging us on and holding us back
           the lucidity of its to and fro
the soft patter of seconds
           that whiles away our days
the frail tissue of memories
           all that we hold dear
all that we love
           all that we cannot live without
the beauty of a sunset
           that slips below the horizon
and at night the incandescence
           of Venus above a watery moon

Look then to a love
           that transcends it all
press her flesh to your flesh
           obliterating all but the moment
poetry is the sacrament of praise
           love her and praise her forever

John Lyons

Pigeons

a flock of white and grey pigeons
           perhaps thirty or more
flying in low circles back and forth
           over a piece of open ground
close to the railway line
           and as they veer into the sunlight
the white pigeons
           are suddenly illuminated
and for an instant their wings
           are the wings of angels
bearers of the holy spirit
           testimony to the beauty
of creation on this frosty
           afternoon

and all around me
           are signs and signatures
the greeting in an infant’s eyes
           two lovers on a park bench kissing
a desiccated rose that has struggled
           through the winter months
to remain attached to its stem
           the pace of life that goes on and on
and the hope I harbour
           that she will never let me down

John Lyons

Refreshment

Wake to a world
           gripped by a hard frost
birdsong and the sound
           of dogs barking
just to keep warm :
           the simplicity of the sun
will soon melt the ice
           and with it the dark
unconscious shapes
           of the night will fade

the lover that lies within us
           will be emboldened
to venture forth once again
           into the imagined life
in which music is borne
           on the west wind
and in which the clear
           delineations of desire
will declare the soul
           to be free of betrayal

observe time’s notations
           the dignity of swans
on the silver waters
           buds about to burst forth
an early harvesting
           of materials to build nests
that longing for the first
           sight of daffodils
for the immaculate texts
           of nature to be refreshed

John Lyons

Last night

Last night the stars
           in the pitch black sky
brighter than ever before
           and the space deeper
the silence too
           wondering how love
can be sustained
           over such distances
: and through the silence
            endless radio waves
from the origins of time—
           all things that have beginnings
have ends too
           even a universe is not for ever

so where does that leave love
           and how can love survive
can a kiss stretch around the moon
           can a caress rescue the faltering word
can the unutterable abyss of absence
           ever be filled : what gestures 
will bind two hearts together
           in defiance of time and space ?

John Lyons

So what

There are no shortcuts
           no feigning paradise
nothing comes from nothing
           neither are there
accidental roses
           or transient loves

against the frost
           there is the warmth
the light in her eyes
           affirmation in her kindness
life is deliberate
           even though we struggle
to attain perfection
           such as it exists in this world

life is a knowledge
           an accumulation
a construct
           and nobody is free
from error
           all are beholden
to forgiveness
           the gloss on our actions
soon wears thin
           but love endures
as the rose is paragon
           be steadfast
life is a visitation
           a discovering
a walk in the park
           keep your wits about you
and never forget her
           nor let her forget you

John Lyons

Minimum

Crimson sunrise
           a dusting of frost
soon will melt
           into the air

Sparrow-song heard
           and soon forgotten

John Lyons

Morning musing

If she were simply a dream
           I would not remember her
when I wake and she is gone
           I would not long for a kiss
that she could never give

The earth fired
           with a crimson sunrise
this cold morning
           a dusting of frost
on the trees and grass
           that will soon
melt into the air
           as all thing do
no moment
           no thing fixed for all time

Life is sparrow-song
           heard
and soon forgotten
           until it returns
a world of perhaps
           maybe / who knows ?

John Lyons

A piece of work

Sun that reaches
           down into the roots
light into flesh
           a girl’s arms
her hair her lips
           her body built
cell by cell
           from energies
accumulated
           in the leaves
of plants : from grains of life
           that feed this forest
of substantial souls
            Our honesty lies
in our adherence
           to the aboriginal scripts
that underpin the whole
           of our existence

that we should be conscious
           of our consciousness
knowingness of the self
           structures and codes
of language and behaviour
           the greatest discoveries
yet to come
           a poetry of time and place
of elegy and loss
           and memory
for we are who we remember
           ourselves to be
our inner beauty
           is of the moment
and love for one another
           our most precious movement

John Lyons