Turner’s time

Origins
Origins, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Turner’s time

Time of itself
           no significant changes
my time is not your time
           we each carry our own load
I could even say lode
           Time and what you make of it
the wish to change
           and the will to change
the energies that we apply
           to the process of change
or stasis
           and time-resistance
no wish and no will
           to change and each year
as the year before
           and life a constant
duplication of the previous
           or do I repeat myself
the steps we take
           that you and I take
to renew and refresh
           to break through
the time-barrier
           Turner on Margate beach
sand under his feet
           sailed through time
applied fire to his canvas
           held eternity at bay
if only for a while
           all for his art

John Lyons

Star breath

Star breath

Love is not over
           love that comes
with soft touch
           and gentle words
love is not over
           The eyes search
and the hands reach
           and all the senses
are alive in expectation
           Love’s sweet perfume
fills the air
           thrills the heart
is there in the memory
           of what will always be
wholesome love
           that delights
in the pleasure
           of another
The simplicity of love
           defies the convoluted
beauty of roses
           the levity of butterflies
it is the life-breath of stars :
           No — love is not over

John Lyons

A seasonal dirge

A seasonal dirge

The slow drizzle at daybreak
condensation on the skylight

the wet roofs of houses
and the stillness and the silence

The words that are a poem
of themselves their syllables

evoking a moment and a mood
: the actor who aged into the role

of King Lear his face a rough
wasteland of stubbled flesh

September with its misty tableaux
its clouds of ghosts its muffled sounds

a pronounced change in the air
the wilds the storm the wintry night

John Lyons

The dissatisfied soul

The dissatisfied soul

Ever undiscouraged
          resolute
the soul struggles
          grapples with the mystery
of all earth’s ages
          old and new
eyes and ears
          eager
but the soul ever dissatisfied
          curious
but unconvinced
          the same struggle
the same battle
          down the years
leaves of grass
          in the searing wind

John Lyons

 

Cutting back

Cutting back

Red-tinged clouds
          and the light fading fast
From my window a flat
          two-dimensional landscape
Crows cawing en route to their nests
          I wonder where that might be

Evening settles in
          calms my mind
the day’s concerns laid aside
          for the day

Wind is forecast
          several blustery days
to shake down the trees
          Autumn leaves : year after year
the same patterns repeated
          The harvests are in
the bare earth tilled
          orchards heavy
with apple and pear
          waiting to be picked

John Lyons


Today’s poem is an edited version of a poem posted yesterday evening

At the end of the day

At the end of the day

Tonight clouds tinged
          with red
but the light fading fast
          so that seen from my window
the trees appear two-dimensional
          a flat landscape

I hear the crows cawing
          as they make their way
to their nests
          and I wonder where
those nest might be
          high up
in some tree top
          no doubt

Evening settling in
          and with it my mind calms
and whatever concerns I have
          are laid aside for another day

The forecast is for wind
          the prospect of several blustery days
to shake the autumn leaves
          to the ground : year after year
the same patterns are repeated
          Farmers have taken in their harvests
have tilled the bare earth
          though the orchards are heavy
with ripe apples and pears
          waiting to be picked

John Lyons

Timelessness

Timelessness

In my lifetime
          I’ve seen many changes
old ways have been lost
          as new technologies
have taken over
          the world of work
utterly altered
          and yet deep down
it’s all the same
          or so it seems

Through my window
          a suburban landscape
confronting September
          summer has gone
but everywhere is still green
          autumn will change that
and then winter
          these shifting seasons
put me through my paces
          year after year
they are ageless
          but I am not

John Lyons

Throwaway

Throwaway

The light in our eyes
forms constellations

that walk the earth
the dust of stars

shifting shapes
from the potter’s wheel

family ties and circles
friends and relations

random patterns
of coexistence

warmth light
love

John Lyons