Marks on paper

            Fire, John Lyons (acrylic on paper)

Marks on paper

or on canvas
that hold
the energy
of the stroke

action art
creating shapes
in space

adding colour
that activates
the retina induces
a reaction
a change

starlight depicts
warm starlight
with movements
that alter
the cosmos

just as silence
is sound
sometimes richer
than any melody

words driven
by the power
of thought
and feeling

a beauty that stirs
passions within
body and soul
nothing human
ever lifeless

John Lyons


The sycamore senses

                      Leaf, John Lyons (acrylic on paper)

The sycamore senses
the lengthening days
knows that a curve
has been passed

Its leaves tightly packed
in the buds are biding
their time ; they are aware
of their purpose in life

Poetry is not an imaginary
world – it’s as real as
those leaves patiently
waiting to burst forth

John Lyons

The year ending

40 x 40_Tiny dancer
                                  Tiny dancer, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

The living dance
upon dead minds
believe in moon magic
threaten to destroy
the earth with misplaced
enthusiasms and dreams

Time is no refuge
and no doors can
remain bolted forever
Pick up your spoons
and dig into the daily
gruel and accept the cards
you have been dealt

The only splendour
here below is love
but remember it cannot
be put into words nor
can it be photographed
Disdain all those
who would betray it
they are not worth the soil
in which they are buried

John Lyons


And so along with the drizzle
the day dissolves into night

yesterday was so much fun
so full of love and laughter

games played together in
celebration of what family is

They say that at Christmas
the angels work overtime

guiding those who’ve been lost
back into the human fold

tending to the wounds
of the broken-hearted and

reaching out to those in search
of a friendly hand to hold

John Lyons


The clock strikes Christmas
time beats with an open heart

the moon has climbed
to the top of the stairs

I see it through a window
that peeks out into the future

Somewhere a flower is waking
its perfume will soon spread

as its petals open and so deepen
the earth’s unassailable beauty

In every aspect of every star
of every planet you are loved

my hands – simple as they are
were born to adore you everly

John Lyons

In the small hours

Just a figure of speech
there are after all
no big hours

Sometimes I wake
in these small hours
and you are far away

and I love you
from a distance

but as deeply as if
you were by my side
asleep in the beauty

of your dreams
and I were watching
the rise and fall

of your breast perhaps
hearing your heart
softly beating for me

John Lyons

You who in winter sit

You who in winter sit
behind frosted panes
your breath vanishing
before your eyes
observe that the moon
is no longer beneath
your feet but high
in the dark empty sky

You who in winter sit
sat upon the sadness
of your dreams or
the loss of your love
observe the sun rising
in the east shedding
its warm light across
the cold day

You who in winter sit
waiting for life to appear
recognise that it is never
anywhere other than
within your heart and
yours to administer
like the loyal and faithful
servant tasked with
spreading the good news

John Lyons

A once world

A once world
without air
without water
without light
without love
without a ghost
of affection
without a dream
or a song
dayless and

A once world
in the cosmos
an expectation
an oceanic silence
without words
without gestures
birth awaiting birth
life awaiting life
a deep darkness
awaiting the star
of Bethlehem

John Lyons

Hope in words

Hope in words
in the goodness
that rises up
out of the earth
The hawk eye
that spied a hawk
one Friday evening
at Earls Court station

a bird out
of its comfort zone
its implacable eyes
scouring for edible life

the poet who places
hope in words
that might carry the mind
to a better place

John Lyons