There is another Verona
in which Romeo
never knew Juliet
where no star-crossed lovers
ever met their untimely deaths
a Verona devoid
of duelling Montagues
and Capulets
and where the wooden homes
have no balconies
from which to issue
sighs of unrequited love
John Lyons
Her tousled hair
when she wakes
the fine threads
that bear her age
the intersection
of her beauty
with the world
the accumulated
events of her breath
and all that it takes
to make a life
a probe advanced
into history in the making
knowingly becoming
who she wishes to be
the flesh of her
with its starwarmth
like all things
fabricated from
universe
So I ask myself
what is there
not to hold dear
and to love ?
John Lyons
Revised
Abstract they say
suggesting devoid
of form or rhyme
or reason
as though geometry
were the only truth
Time is occasions
and they occur spatially
there is no such thing
as empty space
no such thing as frontier
we’re all in this together
the welter of events
energy and mass
and the stillness
of the contemplative mind
This then is my geography
a battlefield
an urban woodland
back and forth
across the ocean
highs and lows
a little love
here and there
my DNA written
in the stars
skin and bone
of the sun
And as the wind rises
I lean into the future
it may be a long hard winter
but I will not be cowed
I carry Hector and Achilles
in my blood
and to date
not a drop has been spilt
I was once so young
I had no memories
the slate was clean
and there was everything
to play for
lights
camera
action
John Lyons
With corrections
Sometimes a daughter
may be thirty years old
but not always
as in this portrait
based on a photo
taken when she was eleven
and even today
she is no longer thirty
the clock having moved
but she retains
that innocent gaze
and she is gentle
and kindness itself
and she speaks her mind
because she minds
her truth and loves
to sit at a table
and share a meal
with those she loves
who love her back
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 