Month: Mar 2021

Love’s complaint

irlandesuk poetry , , ,

Upon Troy’s battlements

I will not say
       that the cards dealt
were marked
       or that such were
the merciless stars
       that shone upon
those dark nights
       when I struggled
to find my path
       my soul

in the stillness
       in the morning silence
broken only
       by voice of thrush
and sparrow and
       cooing dove
I stand by my choices
       and the consequences
thereof
       and look to the future
my body yet to collapse
       into wrack and ruin
my desire to love
       and be loved intact

Today I hold
       my hand to the fire
hell has no mysteries
       it is heaven that eludes
or provokes with promises
       of rude passion to tempt
our tender flesh
       into submission
or beguiles us with
       crude images of beauties
that stalk the flaming
       battlements of Troy

John Lyons

A line from John Donne

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

clouds

No emptiness
in the heavens

Symmetries of space
of time and place

Are thoughts not
from the stars ?

Are words not too
and love and all things

that engage our affections ?
Body and soul conjoined

inseparable from birth
and you among us

with your beauty
with your bounty

we are but clouds
you rise from

John Lyons

Love be brief

irlandesuk art, poetry , ,

minimum

History – dead time
       a past buried
in a chromatic wilderness
       a burnt match floating
in a greasy pool
       of rainwater
an old hair
       on an old pillow case

Be minimum
       with your words
in your actions
       resolve to move forward
to write new texts
       in a world
of warmth and affection
       the past is scribble
of fret and fear and fate
       beyond absolution

Be minimum
       cut to the quick
courage and conviction –
       angels will appear
on the edge of night
       by day they will mingle
with crows and sparrows
       foxes will pay allegiance

She who is not worthy
       will lose her way
be lost forever –
       exercise discretion
: in the forgetting
       there is forgiveness –
be minimum
       say no more

John Lyons

The rest is silence

irlandesuk art, poésie, poetry , ,

lascaux

As the fire blazed
       in the mouth of the cave
pigments were mixed
       and applied to the walls
the deer and antelope admired
       and keenly observed
and hunted for food
       : art in order to render
their deep respect for
       this source of life

that others might know
       their story
their values
       the word inseparable
from the deed
       an imagist language
a timeless articulation
       in time and space

John Lyons

Le reste est silence

Alors que le feu flambait
       dans l’embouchure de la grotte
les pigments ont été mélangés
       et appliqués sur les murs
le cerf et l’antilope admirés
       et vivement observés
et chassés pour se nourrir
       : l’art pour rendre
leur profond respect pour
       cette source de vie

que d’autres puissent savoir
       de leur histoire
de leurs valeurs
       le mot inséparable
de l’acte
       un langage imagiste
une articulation intemporelle
       dans le temps et dans l’espace

The road to love

irlandesuk art, poetry

parkville2
                       Parksville, N.Y. revisited, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

A life is a shape
       of sorts
a series of directions
       a series of choices
a series of decisions
       which we sometimes
take for granted
       or to which we pay
less than sufficient
       attention

A fork in the road
       an option or dilemma
it can puzzle us
       unless we know
where we are heading
       what life lies ahead
the road to heaven
       the road to hell
the road to nowhere
       the road to love ?

John Lyons

On the cutting room floor

irlandesuk art, poetry

  news1                       The cutting room floor, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)

Think of the canvas
       as a board
as a Shakespearean stage
       imagine who treads here
Lear or Hamlet or Othello
       Ophelia or Desdemona

words words words
       cut up and thrown
haphazardly as though
       chance were a fine thing
all of this scissored
       out of yesterday’s news
present states
       relentlessly slipping
into the past
       make no bones about it

whether it were better
       or nobler in the mind
enough drama to last us
       a lifetime or more
decisions decisions
       that the artist must take
much editing to be done
       only twenty-four hours
before it’s time to sweep
       the cutting room floor

John Lyons

Heartwarming art

irlandesuk art, poetry

multicolour

                   Old news, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)

These flowers
this background
these colours
are all old news –
clumsy shapes
that suggest
or hint at objects
in the real world
art being a parallel
fictional insertion

Nevertheless
time will not consume
these petals
although these vivid
hues may fade
under intense
and prolonged sunlight

but the expression
– artless but sincere –
speaks of beauty
and of a world untainted
by corruption

It seeks to please
the eye and warm
the heart of whoever
beholds it

John Lyons

Every word its shadow

irlandesuk art, poetry

gold rose
             Absence, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)

In the absence
in the silence
in the stillness
in all simplicity
where dust falls
where light fades
where night comes
and night goes
and seasons shift
one after another
art endures
with its words
and images

every word
every flower
has its shadow
paper curls away
from the canvas
artificial but
not unreal
it purveys a notion
of timelessness
perhaps of serenity
and yet the colours
lack vibrancy
as though the art
were sleeping
a melancholy dream

what hand tends
these flowers
who observes them
who admires them
this gift of nature ?
beauty that makes
no demands
that soothes the mind
that satisfies the heart
that softens life’s
hard edges
speaks only
of love

John Lyons

Read the text

irlandesuk art, poésie, poetry

blue_roses

Blood-red roses
       against an anaemic sky
artificial petals
       that will never fall
time that will never pass
       hope that will never return
children who will never know
       the joy of peace unless
the sale of arms is suspended
        No flowers for the refugees
no food on their plates
       no light in their eyes

Read the text
       beneath the blooms
between the lines
       foreign aid cut
at the stem
       innocent people left
to wither and die
       for profit

John Lyons

Lisez le texte

Roses couleur de sang
       contre un ciel anémique
pétales artificiels
       qui ne tomberont jamais
un temps qui ne passera jamais
       l’espoir qui ne reviendra jamais
des enfants qui ne sauront jamais
       la joie de la paix à moins que
la vente d’armes ne soit suspendue
       Pas de fleurs pour les réfugiés
pas de nourriture dans leurs assiettes
       pas de lumière dans leurs yeux

Lisez le texte
       au-dessous des fleurs
entre les lignes
       l’aide internationale coupée
à la base
       des innocents abandonnés
au flétrissement et à la mort
       pour le profit