Year: 2021

Relaxin’ at Camarillo

irlandesuk poetry , , ,

Charlie Parker

I’ve been listening
       to Charlie Parker
for most of my adult life
       I never tire of the riffs
the sweet melodies
       the effortlessly inventive energy
he applies to the saxophone
       the awesome power of his breath
that lives on in the recordings :
       masterworks indeed

Like the poetry
       of Frank O’Hara
who is alive and well
       in the Lunch Poems
his tone of voice too
       captured for all time
in a poetry that positively
       sings of friendship and love

‘My words are love’
       Frank wrote
and Charlie might well have said
       the same about his notes
Stepping away
       from the world of work
Frank worked the world
       into his verse
His poems – as with all art –
       are affairs of the heart

John Lyons

My life refracted

irlandesuk art, poésie, poetry

seascape

                   Seascape, John Lyons (thin air on wood)

I examine the data
the nails the hair
the skin the teeth
all of which are not
as they once were

I can read the signs
the marks of time
accumulated
over the years
and I know where
it’s all heading

From time to time
on my walks through
ancient woodland
I inspect the gnarled bark
of trees that were there
before me and will
probably see me out

It brings me comfort
and a sense of solidarity
it reminds me of my place
in nature’s spectrum

Separateness is an illusion
in a universe built
on the principle of solidarity
of which human love is
the most intense expression

John Lyons

Ma vie réfractée

J’examine les données
les ongles les cheveux
la peau les dents
qui ne sont pas tous
comme ils l’étaient autrefois

Je sais lire les signes
les traces du temps
accumulées
au cours des années
et je sais où
tout se dirige

De temps en temps
sur mes promenades
à travers les bois anciens
J’inspecte l’écorce noueuse
d’arbres qui étaient là
avant moi et qui probablement
me survivront

Cela m’apporte du réconfort
et un sentiment de solidarité
ça me rappelle ma place
dans le spectre de la nature

La séparation est une illusion
dans un univers construit
sur le principe de la solidarité
dont l’amour humain est
l’expression la plus intense

The ministry of works

irlandesuk poetry

I think how different
       the world would be
if the gasmen
       digging up the road
outside my house
       had taken a vow of silence

But no – it’s early morning
       and they gather
and their excited chatter
       is as though
they had not seen
       each other for years

The foreman arrives
       at eight on the dot
and sets them to work
       : only the drills and
the mechanical diggers
       finally silence them

John Lyons

Only love can hold

irlandesuk poetry

A green hill that rolls off
       into the distance
people are out
       walking their dogs
and birds are mustering
       too far away for me
to identify the species
       a squirrel has been
running back and forth
       on the rim
of the garden fence
       I’m not sure I know
the purpose of it all
       but does it really matter ?

I have a nodding
       acquaintance
with the cosmos
       I know that energy
is the origin of all life
       and that we all
end our days
       as potash

In the meantime
       we have been granted
the beauty of sight and sound
       and the desire to love
and be loved
       Ownership
possessions
       pass through our hands
Time marks progress
       and decay
each moment is precious
       each step each breath
Only love makes sense
       of a life
only love can hold it
       all together

John Lyons

Love’s promise / La promesse d’amour

irlandesuk poésie, poetry

Magpies do not
sing madrigals –
more reserved
than the thrush
than the sparrow
In this still air
I watch them glide
from one tree
to another barely
a muscle flexed

Treat every day
as the start
of a new year –
the ornithological
perspective
that perpetuates
the good news

If she is heartless
if he is joyless
move on
they are a waste
of daffodils and roses
No kiss can compensate
for the betrayal
of love’s promise

John Lyons

La promesse d’amour

Les pies ne chantent
pas de madrigaux –
plus réservées
que le muguet
que le moineau
Dans cet air calme
je les regarde glisser
d’un arbre
à un autre à peine
un muscle fléchi

Traiter tous les jours
comme le début
d’une nouvelle année –
la perspective ornithologique
qui perpétue
la bonne nouvelle

Si elle a le cœur dur
si lui est sans joie
laisse-les tomber
ils sont une perte
de jonquilles et de roses
Aucun baiser ne peut
compenser la trahison
de la promesse d’amour

The bare bones

irlandesuk poetry

Behind us
the bare bones
of winter

Voluble birdsong
buds about to burst
into leaf and frail
flower

Out with the old love
in with the new
when it comes
to her beauty
I’m all eyes

the soul is not
superficial
it keeps faith
with those
who keep faith

John Lyons

Shake the dust

irlandesuk poésie, poetry , ,

My reflection tells me
that I have aged
my heart tells me
that I have not

I have shrugged off
her ugly betrayal
as I would shake dust
from my shoes

the death of a star
is nothing to lament
in the firmament they are
as fish in the sea

Sparrows sing of roses
there in the bud
of petals about to unfold
new love that spring brings

John Lyons

Secouez la poussière

Mon reflet me dit
que j’ai vieilli
mon coeur me dit
que je n’ai pas

J’ai ignoré
sa vilaine trahison
comme je secouerais la poussière
de mes chaussures

la mort d’une étoile
n’a rien à déplorer –
dans le firmament elles sont
comme des poissons dans la mer

Les moineaux chantent des roses
des boutons sur le point de fleurer
d’un nouvel amour
que le printemps apporte

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