I don’t think so
in the rough and tumble
with all the ups and downs
mistakes get made
and I take full
: fact
I apologise
but nobody’s perfect
so throw a stone
if you dare
this is merely
an expression
of my colourful
imperfections
John Lyons
The mistle thrush with its
pale grey-brown upperparts
a greyish-white chin and throat
and black spots on its pale yellow
and off-white underparts
builds an open cup nest
which it fiercely defends
against all comers :
its melodious fluted whistle
carries far and wide
no matter how wet
and windy the weather
Stormcock screech
shrite gawthrush it goes
by many noms de plume
For its love of the mistletoe
Erasmus termed it
author of its own demise
Erasmus in praise of madness
long gone
John Lyons
Love’s beauty
is permission granted
the trust of one
trusting another
each giving the gift
of receiving
of words wishes
speech and silence
in season
the blood moon
aching in the sky
the quickened pulse
that comes with the rise
and fall of tides
love’s beauty
a faithful truth
delineated for all time
a sea that hugs the shore
intimate in its topography
seductive in its detail
a site of turbulence
and of calm all taken
in the rough and tumble
of waves that break
on the shingle beach
love that remains
and in so doing
defies description
Love is to be known
and seen and wanted
and needed and never
to be relinquished
its warm breath
an enticing touchstone
in its path lies the truth
and beauty of one
and one
made one
John Lyons
The beauty of love
is in the permission
and in the trust
that that implies
one trusting another
holding and wanting
to be held
speaking and wishing
to be spoken to
disregarding the seasons
the blood moon
the rise and fall of tides
Love’s beauty lies
in its truth
in its faithfulness
for all time
just as the sea
hugs the shore
love is intimate
in its topography
and in its detail :
expect turbulence
and days of calm
the rough and tumble
of waves on the shore
love is all these things
and yet remains beyond
description
Know it when
you feel it and see it
and want it and need it
and never let it go
it is the breath’s touchstone
the one true way for all
its beauty lies in the truth
of its touch
John Lyons
What passes for love
soon passes
sooner than the day
sooner than the night
what passes for love
soon passes
John Lyons
A farewell to words
a farewell to descriptions
of seeing and hearing
and feeling and knowing
and simply
of being
In the farthest corner
of the skylight a spider
was woven its web
and the trap is set
for any unsuspecting flier
: having retreated
the spider now eyes
its artistry
from a concealed
vantage point
Silence :
a farewell to words
as day dissolves
into night
and darkness gathers
in the wings
A farewell to the rose
to lush summer fruits
and the warm taste
of beauty’s flesh
: a fond farewell
to words
John Lyons
A man’s particulars
the story of his life
the steps taken
the successes and failures
the loves won and lost
his relationship with himself
and with others
his stars and his blue moons
all that governed his progress
or allowed him to run free
his nature vis-à-vis nature
the promises made
and those unkept
his struggle for self-expression
his words his words his words
that built him up to be
whoever he wanted to be
and the rain and the forests
the harsh climates he endured
the roses he gathered
the fruit that he consumed
the lips that he kissed
along the way and always
the very fine dust he made
John Lyons
So the storm has passed
leaving the streets
littered with dry leaves
and other debris
fine dust and grit
that swirls in the wind
and assaults the eyes
so that we walk
with our heads bowed
shielding our faces
from the unswerving
onslaught
What can I say
we are no longer
roasting by the beach
paddling in the warm
Channel waters
or watching children
as they ferry
sand and water
from one place
to another
Autumn approaches
in the stealth
of shorter days
and longer nights
the summer’s empire
once more defeated
and it is time
to feather the nest
the warm love nest
in preparation for
the months to come
when we will curl up
into our winter days and
kiss the hours goodbye
John Lyons
Balmy summer nights
when sleep eludes us
we toss and turn
beneath the stars
praying for the return
of cooler days
and cooler nights
wishing the moment away
But these are moments
sent to test our mettle
what thoughts what feelings
rule our roost
what fervour drives
our ambitions
what love keeps us
alive
Everywhere the roses have faded
their petals dry and drooping
their season past : dust awaits them
but in our skies welcome clouds
will soon come and rains will fall
and turn the land green once more
and restore us
to our bounty
John Lyons
Air is not emptiness
even when it is empty
of birds or planes
or flying leaves
air is everywhere
full of itself
here angels reside
and pass among us
unnoticed
angels of the sun
and moon soundlessly
sightlessly present
air is breath
and fresh life
and is there
in every thought
and act of love
it is the vehicle
for language
its medium
and its measure
and it shapes our world
clinging to the spangled
topographies
of land and sea
and life and death
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 