Sunday drizzle

Sunday drizzle

In the stillness
           I hear the drizzle
falling through
           the universe
The birdsong
           is subdued
I see leaves
           gently waving
in the light breeze
           Our star has yet
to appear through
           the grey clouds

A train is running
           in the distance
and I think
           of Emily Dickinson
and the silences
           of Amherst to which
she was so attuned
           We share
the same cosmos
           a common heritage

What is time
           in the grand scheme
of things ?

What is any of it worth
           without love ?

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Emerging eyes

Emerging eyes

Out of a tangle of coloured threads
           your smile emerges intact
your eyes peering into the future
           your beauty indestructible

This is how art transcends life
           stealing from its embroidered textures
and rendering them immortal
           the stuff of dreams as yet unfulfilled

a never-ending work in progress
           What I hoped to capture
is what moves your heart
           what sustains your deepest self

as you travel your chosen path
           knowing that love is indivisible
that in the come and go of days and nights
           love remains to the very end

John Lyons

 

 

Rilke’s Apollo

Archaic torso of apollo
Archaic torso of Apollo

Rilke’s Apollo

Value shaped
           by the heart
and by the hand
           lends form to love
The torso that gleams
           the flicker of stone
seen in the eyes
           all the softness
of starlight
           caught in the lines
from which these
           my words
take their life
           gracefully
The artist a beast
           that preys upon
the timeless universe’s
           distance
movement
           and depth

John Lyons


Em português:

O Apolo de Rilke

Valor formado
            pelo coração
e pela mão
            dá forma ao amor
O torso que brilha
            o cintilar de pedra
visto nos olhos
            toda a suavidade
da luz das estrelas
            pego nas linhas
das quais
            minhas palavras
tiram a vida
            graciosamente
O artista uma fera
            que faz pilhagem
da distância
           do movimento
da profundidade
           do eterno universo

All things turn around love

All things turn around love

Count the years
           the months the weeks
the days the hours
           that I have loved you
There are no accidents
           and love leaves
nothing to chance
           Being ever purposeful
it’s seen and heard
           on all sides
and perfected
           in its practice
known not by its words
           but in its deeds
expressed in
           its living breath

So to the dawn chorus
           mellifluous on the ear
a music of this sphere
           among all the spheres
of the universe
           and all things turn
around one thing
           all things bend
to love’s true path
           and the greatest
of all the laws
           of thermodynamics
is that love never dies
           : how could it ?

John Lyons

The magnolias are in bloom

The magnolias are in bloom

The purple magnolia is in bloom
           streets are lined with cherry blossom
nature’s festive season has begun
           rains have rejuvenated the land

What more is there to love
           than the pulse of life
rising up from the dead of winter
           with the promise of spring
leading us on into the heart
           of a mid-summer’s dream ?

Even the fish that move silently
           through the reeds know
that a change is at hand
           the signs are there in the sunlight
that floods the river’s depths
           and in the soft debris of petals
swept downstream by the tide of life
           All that lives dies so as to live again :
it’s what nature knows
           and nature never lies

John Lyons

A view from the bridge

A view from the bridge

Hard to believe that the sea
           comes from the sun
that all things
           have a common origin
that the relationship
           between mass and energy
is unbreakable
           and that no inner
or outer space exists
           just space on all sides
stretching backwards
           and forwards
within an expanding
           infinity

We were born to cross
           the Brooklyn Bridge together
that summer’s day
           born to know and love
one another
           to recognise
our common origin
           our particles reconnecting
to live as one
           as it was in the beginning
is now and ever
           shall be

John Lyons

My Sunday morning

My Sunday morning

Sunday moves slowly
           through the day
I feel the emptiness of space
           all around me
the silence and the air
           moving imperceptibly
through the trees
           Life is breathing
and I’m soaking it in
           my mind dipping
into and out of
           a number of memories
flicking through emotions
           through times and places
where we were happy
           together

She is never far
           from my thoughts
though she’s far
           from me now
There was a time
           when so much of her life
was a part of my life
           making absolute separation
impossible
           I learn to live with it
one day at a time
           I read poetry
for consolation
           poetry that is about
what truly counts
           human feelings
love for all things
           that are good
and the truest of all loves
           that never fades

John Lyons