What endures

What endures
           may not be love
but memory of love
           how one person’s breath
can turn you wild
           the warmth of her body
against yours
           the words
and the silences
           shared

What endures
           is the light
from distant stars
           that you observe
on a cold winter night
           and you shiver
with delight
           and the memory
of those dreams
           that hung
upon those stars
           back in the day

John Lyons

Meditation in times of love

Life can sometimes seem so serious
           that it is difficult to distinguish
between one emergency or another
           and there are no guides
you simply have to live your way
           through it every man woman and child
and the suspense can be killing or not
           depending on the emotional weather

We live constantly on the edge
           expecting approbation and beauty
and a life all rolled into one
           every dream ever wished upon a star

So she walks into my life
           a glamorous insurgence
and all at once I am at war with myself
           she is pale and the wind shapes her hair
so that it billows in the way Botticelli chose for Venus
           and we wander through the gallery
chasing images to take home and outside
           the streets somehow have emptied
and we have the city to ourselves
           which is how love feels
a delicious emergency of the heart
           and there is no darkness
and there are no secrets
           and no pain intrudes other than
that of separation when the time comes
           though I remember praying
that it would never come
           and that no dust would ever settle
between us and that no spring
           would ever fail

John Lyons

An American silence

Poetry is also in the silence
           in the space between the words
in the space between the lines
           in the space before the poem begins
and the space after it ends
           the white space of silence

the streets of Manhattan
           emptied of cars
emptied of pedestrians
           frozen in time
either a blue sky
           or snow slowly drifting down
into Times Square
           filling the space
with its cold
           ghostly silence

Someone has halted the newsreel
           and there is no action
and the breath is held
           and the mind sinks deeper
into thought and speculation
           and you hear your breath
and maybe the gentle beat
           of your heart and you are aware
that you are living
           and that your life shifts
constantly
           from one space to another
from one scene to another
           and that the silence
may be your friend
           or your enemy
just as the truth consoles
           but can sometimes hurt

John Lyons

Winter bearings

Winter of broken dreams
           so soon laid to rest
Dark clouds in from the east
           and snow shrouds the land
Seasoned lovers wrap up
           to keep warm
while youngsters skate
           on the frozen pond

Winter’s a way of life
           beneath blankets and heavy woollens
light fades and birds shiver
           in their nests

As a child I tried to read the flames
           that burned in the hearth
fiery tongues of red and gold
          as opaque as ever
that kept us alive
          through bitter months

All of that a world away now
           Each day brings new things
a new moon and fresh prospects
           and my pulse quickens
as December approaches
           Soon all manner of mysteries
may be revealed
           though for now I journey on
through mists and frost
           and haywire bearings
as I head for the place
           of my birth

John Lyons

December anthem

In winter our broken dreams
           are laid to rest
dark clouds move in from the east
           and snow shrouds the land
seasoned lovers wrap up
           to keep warm
while young skaters
           take to the frozen pond

Winter is a way of life
           beneath blankets or heavy woollens
while the light fades
           and birds shiver in their nests
those at least that have remained
           in this cold cold land

As a child I tried to read
           the leaping flames of the coal fire
that burned in the hearth
           the red and yellow tongues
of heat that kept us alive
           through those bitter months

All of that is a world away
           and each day is a new thing
and each moon
           brings fresh prospects
My pulse quickens
           as December approaches
and soon all manner of mysteries
           will become clear

though for now I am tasked
           to continue my journey
through mists and frost
           struggling to retain my bearings
in the hope of returning once again
           to the place of my birth

John Lyons

A complex of simplicities

Yesterday the drilling
           of a woodpecker
as I awoke at first light
           today the splatter
of rain on the skylight
           the patter of droplets
of natural time
           just as it falls

Yesterday we strolled
           in the meadow
where avenues
           of age-old oaks
clung to their leaves
           while all around
their peers
           were shedding

The grass was soft
           underfoot
the earth not yet soaked
           We crossed the river
where swans and gulls
           swam and fished
in the wide pool of water
           restrained by the weir

Time and the river
           the wholesome fresh air
and beauty on all sides
           life a complex
of simplicities
           just like love

John Lyons