Year: 2019

Remembering Tralee

irlandesuk art, poetry
map of the world
Early map of the world, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm oil on canvas)

Remembering Tralee

My mother was born
           in the shadow of mountains
her old bones long since
           laid to rest
I know the place
           the house the houses
where she was a girl
           I know the school
I know the shoreline
           where she would go
in the summer to bathe
           and walk along the beach

My bones
           out of her bones
have grown old too
           but my muscles retain
their youthful vigour
           I know many things
and yet am ignorant
           of so much more

Perhaps I long to return
           to that place
in the shadow of mountains
           where calm waters
run down to the sea
           Perhaps is a word
I have used too often
           in my life perhaps

John Lyons

 

Living in the lap of luxury

irlandesuk poetry

Living in the lap of luxury

At nobody’s beck and call
           the foxes lounge
on the shed roof
           sunning themselves
on this beautiful
           autumn day

Ownership
           they might say
what is that ?

And time
           and space ?

They are so familiar
           with the lie of the land
they want for nothing
           which explains
the dark orange beauty
           of their luxurious pelts

Luxury
           they might say
what is that ?

John Lyons

Keeping it simple

irlandesuk art, poetry
red moon
Red moon, John Lyons (oil on wood)

Keeping it simple

Simple I said
whenever you love me
it goes straight to the heart

I need all things
less than love

I want all things
less than love

material physical love
your finger brushing my lips
gently

your eyes
looking lovingly
into mine

all other purposes
are less than love

there is
no greater reason
no greater sense
than love

John Lyons

What is it to love ?

irlandesuk poetry

What is it to love ?

The poet asks
           what is it to love
what is it that moves
           two people
to take one another
           as their own
to have and to hold
           to exclude all others ?

that love
           clear and bright
seen in the intersection
           of their eyes
and in the shared pattern
           of their movements
in the harmonies
           of their breath
in all their geometries
           and in the rhythms
and the intricate narrative
           of their dance

What beauty arises
           from their unmuted concentricity
from the steadfast enactment
           of their most intimate dreams
As circles of darkness
           are kept at bay
by circles of light
           so their souls shine
in the singularity
           of their conjoined flesh
: time is the dust
           that love outlives

John Lyons

A walk in the woods

irlandesuk poetry

A walk in the woods

Through the woodland
           we walked hand in hand
heard the rustle
           of a baby squirrel
in the undergrowth
           saw crows pecking
at the rich pickings
           in the damp soil
and magpies going silently
           about their business

and in the open field
           a dog fetching a ball
only for it to be thrown again
           All nature falls yes
but life bounces back
           the hollow trunk
decaying down into the soil
           will rise again
in fresh limbs
           that will proudly withstand
the rain and the wind
           nature is par excellence
a survivor and love
           is in our nature

John Lyons

Particles and waves

irlandesuk poetry

Particles and waves

particles and waves
waves and particles

the humility
of the universe

you and I
waves and particles

energy shaped
into purpose

what ions are exchanged
when we embrace ?

a cosmos underwritten
by the laws of attraction

congregation and congress
in which bodily boundaries

are annulled and for a moment
our souls blend into one

John Lyons

Excavations of the heart

irlandesuk poetry

Excavations of the heart

Beneath these lives we lead
           beneath the surface
the truth of ourselves
           the depths that are hidden
the strengths and the fragilities
           that we display when we enter
into relationships
           the text of ourselves
that we offer to the other
           all the versions of ourselves
that have gone before
           refined and tailored
for present company
           all that we lived
and all that we loved
           way back in the present
of those past times
           the curve that brought
learning and sometimes
           forgetfulness
an easing of the burden
           of our histories

To have loved in innocence
           to have survived the thrills
of childhood and adolescence
           to be where we are to day
where you are today
           where I am today
self-contained bodies
           brimming with love

John Lyons

My sentiments exactly

irlandesuk poetry

My sentiments exactly

I was born under my stars
           you were born under yours
and though we share
           the same universe
there are still silences between us
           that stretch out across space
my quietness and yours
           imponderable
as cracked autumn leaves
           tumble through the galaxy

If we dig deep enough
           we will hit upon
pockets of the past
           your childhood and mine
our parents now long gone
           dreams that are ripe
for resurrection
           the lust for love

In Spitalfields market
           I bought black leather gloves
to keep my fingers warm
           those fingers
that know your body
           so well

When you blush
           your blood vessels fill with desire
I can read your face
           like the back of my hand
Never forget that we share
           the same minerals
nor that the shadows
           that trailed behind us
on the edges of the Grand Canal
           will be there for all eternity
I own the light in your eyes
           just as you own the light in mine
: we are a constellation of two
           our nights know no darkness

John Lyons

 

The early morning air

irlandesuk poetry ,

The early morning air

I love the early morning air
           the way it hits the lungs
and tells me how good it is
           to be alive and to be walking
the streets around Shoreditch
           where Shakespeare once performed
in the early hours
           just before the offices open
It’s one of the most alive places
           on the planet
full of the real buzz of life
           people who have come
from their beds
           with fresh energy
ready to engage with the day
           with the win-some lose-some
open mind you get
           from a good night’s sleep

I love the bustle and the jostle
           of people prepared
to make a go of it
           I love the sound of friendship
in the air as people greet or part
           and go on their way to work
I love the simple affections
           that bind us all together
and the deep love
           in my heart

John Lyons

Resurrections 

irlandesuk poetry ,

Quercus_robur

Resurrections        

The common English oaks
         cast a towering shadow
over the platform
         at Barnehurst station
the pedunculate oaks
         with their sessile lobed
spirally-arranged leaves
         twisted into rhyme

Time has again gone up in smoke
         as autumn has drained
their lush green leaves
         to the colour of tobacco
Clad in thick fuses of ivy
         from head to toe
these trees are doomed
         as their lifeblood
is slowly sucked away
         No glorious spreading crown
for these emaciated specimens
         no monstrous girth—
their acorns litter the ground
         cracked and crushed
under relentless waves
         of commuter feet

Time feeds on time
         a parasite that will
one day bring these trees
          crashing down to the earth
and so these rugged branches
         will rot back into the soil
from which they once emerged
         ash to ash
dust to dust
         But the minerals
will rise again
         the resurrection
of the molecule
         is not an article of faith :
oak leaves are indeed
         hands reaching out
to future hands
                  Wallace

John Lyons