Poetry – an imperfect definition

The revelation
       of what is hidden
in the blood
       the passion
that moves muscle
       that fires the breath
that moves men and women
       to words

John Lyons

The heart transformed

That’s what it is
           language developed
over thousands of years
           meanings attributed to things
and feelings and the relationships
           between people and objects
the evolution of sounds
           into an expressive
orchestration all held
           in the collective mind
a phonetic transcription
           of the universe
of the cosmos
           which signifies beauty

and when did love
           first set foot
on the planet
           and who was the first to utter
those simple words
           that so transformed the heart
and placed the noble organ
           on the ultimate pedestal

John Lyons

Urban syndication

Future generations
           will ask who built this city
who lived within the confines
           of these tall steel and glass structures
who stripped the streets
           of their warmth and their humanity
who piled misery upon misery
           in places where no grass grew
where no tree blossomed
           where even the birds
struggled to retain their sense
           of melody and failed

At night the sullen grey river
           runs it course heading down
to the sea where all dreams end
           At night there is silence but for the wail
of sirens that deter rather than attract
           At night even the sleep of lovers
will be broken on the hard bed
           of intemperate progress
each gasping breath assessed
           for its value
for its profit
for its loss

John Lyons

In times of emergency

It’s our duty to be attentive :
           the same consciousness
that sets us apart
           brings us together
not just in times
           of collective emergency
but as we admire a fair rose
           or gaze into a pair of pale
green or blue or hazel eyes
           and whisper words of love

And in the summer lie
           beneath the mighty oak
and know that its leaves
           will one day fall and yet
not give a damn
           because love is all
and while away the hours
           wondering wistfully
where the universe would be
           without us

John Lyons

Peonies

Think pink thrill
of the peonies
their curvaceous
double bloom
their petalled layers
of fragrant frills
skirting a deeper
fertile mystery

John Lyons

Against decadent decay

A world put under the mind’s scalpel
that world within a world
of words and nouns and verbs
a poetry of things that co-opts them
into the world of thought and feeling

Who salutes the morning dew
or pays homage to the heroic harvest
or sings of time’s magnificence
and all that filters through it
who sets the frailty of rosebuds
against the strength of love
Whose naming encompasses
the sun and the moon and the stars
or traps the compelling beauty
of the cosmos in order to investigate
the vast poetics of space
with all its untold relativities
so that no thing remains dumb
or inanimate or is abandoned
to the decaying decadence of defeat ?

John Lyons

Resurrecting the day

The early morning air misty
           and heavy with summer scents
and through the silence
           of the reawakening day
come the raucous cries
           of crow and magpie
black and black and white
           and still a primeval innocence
as on that first day
           before there were days
and no note was taken
           and in the distance
the tall trees a shadow
           of themselves though the sun
will soon lift the mantle
           of stupour

Footsteps hasten along the street
           headed for the station
to the train that will transport them
           to a different territory
and all the life that that entails
           Under the moon there may have been
a night of passion or of despair
           or of nothing but the repetition
of nothing with no softness
           or no caress nor any word
of kindness to lift the soul
           the day now ahead
to be improvised
           the rich red rose to be admired
and love never to be forgotten
           and hope never to be abandoned

John Lyons