Turtles on the Pacific coast
that emerge from the sea
that scurry across the wide flat beach
that burrow into the soft sand
and there lay their eggs
in the white moonlight
This is a fertile universe
that so longs for life
that nothing is allowed to die
not energy
not love
nothing
John Lyons
A body of thoughts and feelings
fed by the blood of sunlight
a body that moves erratically
along a predetermined path
a body that knows when to stop
to admire a rose or to stroke a dog
a body given up to the intensities
of work and the leisure of love
one that lives in defiance
of the seasons and dreams only
of moonlight and a warm bed
in which to lie A body
stripped of all ambition
other than to breathe
the wholesome country air
and count the beats of its heart
John Lyons
Allow me to paraphrase
what Olson writes—
love is so lively
it cannot easily be contained
it jumps for joy
it attracts attention to itself
it is consumed with its own
importance and wants
to make its presence known
everywhere and at all times
it has a constant constancy
because this is a single-subject
universe with sole purpose
the expression of energy
So at night
I walk under the stars
and they follow me
a greater wealth
than any diamonds
and by day they are there
in the lily ponds
and beneath the large
green pads where carp swim
their bright scales
reflecting the light
and in the waters
I see the ripple
of my reflection
and beauty is vertical
and horizontal
and its volume equal
to the love it inspires
There are no unnecessary dreams
no redundant species
no flower that does not
warm the heart
Time is the possibility
to know all this
and to taste love
Neither the fish
nor the flowers
are idle :
and notice
that in our habitat
the sheets upon which we lie
till daybreak
are crisp and clean
and our poetry a space
in which to meet
and make love
John Lyons
Nothing matters
more than love
and we are all aware
of how exponentially
it grows in the practice
in the exercise
of our feelings
in gestures
of reaching
and touching
and simply being
together in silence
It wakes with us
and we put it to bed
at night : and those
delicious moments
when time plays
truant are love’s
gift to love
Cherish it
it is your truth
it is the essence
of your beauty
let its flame
burn forever
and a day
John Lyons
Every unsuspecting fibre
wracked with the pain
of silence and neglect
a litter of leaves
on the path to the Tower
tossing and turning
in the grime and dust
Life is long
: so too
the days and hours
of absence filled with
hope’s sullen reprobates
and at night the grinding
of foxes’ teeth
and the darkness that settles
around the heart
John Lyons
In the fierce wind overnight
leaves stripped from the lilac tree
a moonless sky that casts
deep shadows across my heart
one season here another there
what does it amount to
as we travel the life circuit
and drift from dream to dream?
John Lyons
Vascular life
with its niggling
day-to-day setbacks
the rough taken
with the smooth
dismissed perhaps
as time’s tantrums
life calling death’s bluff
and in the garden
the wheelbarrow laden
with fresh turf
a new lawn to be laid
and the wind picks up
and autumn is upon us
with its August lights
that draw in the moths
winter preparations
for the season of silence
the months straddled
by ice and snow
and a world-weariness
the long bed of the river
silting as it snakes
into the empty sea
and love that clings
to pearls of naked flesh
that longs for the warmth
of word-wisdom and
gentility on the tongue
a lamp burning through
the long nights
the random days
that consecrate love’s
tender traffic
John Lyons
Which once was she
a phantom of delight
a lovely apparition
sent to startle
and to haunt
a dancing shape
her dusky hair
eyes noble and serene
in love and kisses
tears and smiles
endurance foresight
strength and skill
free from simple wiles
her temperate will
to firm reason held
with something of
a moment’s ornament
much more than—
in a world
of transient sorrows
journeying
between life and death
a spirit still
a voice to warn
to comfort and command
the angelic light
the very pulse of love
promise full
as of the stars
without praise or blame
her being breathing
thoughtful breath
John Lyons
*After William Wordsworth
In the glade
sweet chestnut
heavy with fruit
as yet unripe
early days
in late summer
the spiny cupules
familiar to my fingers
pockets of childhood
memories carried
in the blood
of forays into
the unkempt woodlands
where squirrels
still roam freely
today
How sweet
roasted on
the open fire
that burned
in the hearth
so dear to the heart
John Lyons
The year is slipping
away from me
time through the hands
the leaves turning
petals falling
the nights longer
the days too short
and dust descending
who knows what
tomorrow’s moon
will bring
or what tests
the coming winter
will contrive
what brave new world
awaits us all
I look to the immaculate stars
to the puffed white clouds
that pass aimlessly
I lean against the parapet
looking out across
the sleepless river
an eternity condensed
between its banks
and within me I feel
the tangled flow of love
days hours whole years
in which beauty and truth
nurtured the alchemy
of my desires
One day
pardon will be granted
and with it
inviolate peace
and with that
rest : wordless rest
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 