Month: Feb 2021

A chaos of colour

irlandesuk art, poetry

marble

Carrara – a detail, John Lyons (25 x 30 cm, oil on canvas)

A patterned chaos of colour
       on the canvas
oils masquerading as marble
       quarried out of Carrara
a flat surface to be curved
       around a tall column
nano dots of pigment
       bound to the supple fabric
paint applied
       with a flick of the wrist

Somewhere in there
       is the beast I have hunted
all my life
       the image the images
that lie beneath
       art composed according
to first principles –
       acrid smoke rises
in the mouth of the cave
       a community gathers
to feast on the spoils
       of the day

By the light
       of the leaping flames
let us leave history
       on the walls
let us record this day
       for all who follow
in our steps
       let us slay the beast
for all time
       let us slay time

John Lyons

Coffee on the brain

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

coffee_brain

Coffee on the brain
the morning fix
juice from the beans
roasted and ground
to a coarse dust
a planet around which
the addict’s life revolves
those who cannot function
without their regular shots

I have seen the plantations
the huge yards
where the harvested beans
were spread out to dry
in the tropical sun
the terraces of cells
where the slaves slept
the fine house the wealth
all built on the sweat
of so many others’ brows

John Lyons

Days to come

irlandesuk poetry

There is always so much
going on in my mind
a tidal wave of thought
and feelings
from the moment I wake

Two robins are hopping
on the garden wall
the valentine red
of their breasts
bobbing up and down

To them life is a game
but a game that they
will never know
even though the snow
has yet to melt away
completely the robins
know their next move
instinctively – spring
eggs at Easter
and a clutch of eager
mouths to feed

John Lyons

Stars made flesh

irlandesuk poetry

When we reach for the stars
       it’s because that’s where
we wish to return –
       we were born there
that was our first home
       and we’ve travelled so far
through vast glacial expanses
       of deep darkness
just to be here
       just to be now

We are stars made flesh
       and on our faces feel
the cold flakes of snow
       driven in on harsh
Siberian winds –
       and so we hunger
for warmth and the touch
       of another’s hand
ever eager to embrace
       a melting heart

John Lyons

The point of creation

irlandesuk poetry

No lie
no metaphor
to talk of clay
to talk of ash
we are particles
of debris
we rise up
from the earth
with one sole
purpose
that is
to love
to make
of our lives
love
tenderness
comes naturally
as nature is
all-giving

out of the loam
our bones
our skin
a cosmic fabric
hydrogen
oxygen carbon
the building blocks
of life

on your lips
a taste
of the universe
parent
of us all
our atoms born
a breath away
from the point
of creation

John Lyons

Ash of ages

irlandesuk art, poésie, poetry

ash

Ash of ages
the slow descent
light filtered
through darkness
in the beginning
was the end
light burnt
to a cinder
the earth’s
fallen forests

out of the cauldron
these flakes of snow
and magpies
that know nothing
of life or death
foxes that tell
their time by
the sun and moon

ash of ages
the slow descent
of my flesh
of her flesh
pale red lips
that meet in love
life as it was meant
to be loved
love as it was meant
to be lived

John Lyons

Cendres des âges
la lente descente
la lumière filtrée
à travers l’obscurité
au début
était la fin
la lumière brûlée
à une cendre
tombées les forêts
de la terre

hors du chaudron
ces flocons de neige
et les pies
qui ne savent rien
de la vie ou de la mort
les renards qui marquent
l’heure selon
le soleil et la lune

cendres des âges
la lente descente
de ma chair
de sa chair
les pâles lèvres 
qui se touchent en amour
la vie telle qu’elle était censée
d’être aimé
l’amour telle qu’il était censé
d’être vécu

I have known colder hearts

irlandesuk poésie, poetry

The fox is back
ferreting in the snow
its movements tracked
by an alert squad of magpies

in the distance
children riding their sleds
on the hillside next to
the ancient woodland

icy flurries have cancelled
the morning chorus :
a time to be wrapped up
and warm in the nest

patches of ice
gathered in the gutters
reflect the grey skies
I have known colder hearts

John Lyons

J’ai connu des cœurs plus froids

Le renard est de retour
il furets dans la neige
ses mouvements suivis
par une alerte escouade de pies

au loin
des enfants sur leurs traîneaux
descendent la colline à côté
de l’ancienne forêt

des averses de neige ont annulé
le chœur du matin :
un temps pour être enveloppé
et au chaud dans le nid

des flaques de glace
rassemblées dans les gouttières
reflètent le ciel gris
J’ai connu des cœurs plus froids

Montaigne’s vanity

irlandesuk poésie, poetry

montaigne

It has snowed overnight
Montaigne sits in his ivory tower
through the window he sees
magpies pecking at the white dust
he sees a fox scavenging

the magpies tease the fox
there are at least fourteen of them
but the fox in a world of its own
casually sniffs
the icy ground

Montaigne wonders
was I born to witness this
to record it in words
to attach some sort of importance
to this trivia of nature ?

Vanity will be the death of me
vanity will be the death of us all
our consciousness of what is
the absurd hierarchies we build in the mind
vanity of vanities: tear it down !

John Lyons

Il a neigé pendant la nuit
Montaigne est assis dans sa tour d’ivoire
à travers la fenêtre il voit
des pies qui picorent la poussière blanche
il voit un renard en train de fouiller

les pies taquinent le renard
il y en a quatorze au moins 
mais le renard dans son propre monde
renifle avec désinvolture
le sol glacé

Montaigne se demande
suis-je né pour être témoin de cela
pour l’enregistrer avec des mots
attacher une sorte d’importance
à cette trivialité de la nature ?

La vanité sera ma mort
la vanité sera la mort de nous tous
notre conscience de ce qui est
les absurdes hiérarchies
que nous bâtissons dans la tête
vanité des vanités: démolissons-la!

Smoke rising

irlandesuk poésie, poetry

Smoke rising
into the pale sky
life smouldering
somewhere beneath

the forecast is
for a blanket of snow
and monotone
landscapes

my eyes will search
for the magpies
that dare to venture out
my ears pricked to capture

the prattle of foxes
when darkness falls
as once I caught
the germ of love

in her eyes
in the curl of her lips
as she turned
and walked away

a man and his dog
cross the green field
the first flakes
yet to fall

bitter wind from the east
stillness and silence
as when she turned her back
and walked away

John Lyons

La fumée monte
dans le ciel pâle
la vie qui couve
quelque part en dessous

la prévision est
pour une couverture de neige
et paysages
monotones

mes yeux chercheront
pour les pies
qui osent s’aventurer
mes oreilles dressées pour capturer

le bavardage des renards
quand l’obscurité tombe
comme une fois j’ai perçu
le germe de l’amour

dans ses yeux
la douce moue de ses lèvres
comme elle tournait
et est partie

un homme et son chien
traversent le champ vert
les premiers flocons
encore à tomber

vent glacial de l’est
calme silence comme quand
elle a tourné le dos
et est partie

Nature’s skin and bone

irlandesuk poetry

This season’s colours too
     will fade when our secret lives
emerge from the shadows
     and peacocks strut once more
and fan their feathers to admiring hens
     life leaf flower fruit life
this too
     is the way of the world

How my blood warms
     to love and the thought
of paradise – a smile
     the warm flesh pressed
to mine – a breath unearthed
     I turn around the light
in her eyes – streets strewn
     with cherry blossom
white chalk mineral words
     with which to sing
of such beauty shaped from clay
     of nature’s skin and bones

John Lyons