Out of the earth
this pine wood
out of the earth
these pigments
out of the earth
the oils used
out of the earth
the wooden brush
and bristles
the artist too
out of the earth
from stardust
to stardust
this simple
composition
a smattering of light
in the darkness
out of the earth
all life all love all art
out of the earth
John Lyons
As night fell
and the waters calmed
the churn of words
within her
He fished the river
his glass never empty
small fry he caught
but he was there
the poetry buried
within her
the thoughts
and the feelings
guided by the stars
darkness was a revelation
love might never come but
breath most precious of all
John Lyons
That morning stillness
just woken from sleep
coffee in hand
gaze through the window
a light winnowing breeze
moves through the trees
birds tuning up
for their morning chorus
a glorious day ahead
blue skies and sunshine
and hope in leaps and bounds
what passes is not love
whatever passes
let it go : whoever passes
through your life
let them go too
love never ever passes
love remains
today I will mix paints
and apply them to canvas
today I will mix words
and apply them to paper
today I will make music
with a mixture of notes
love never passes
love remains
John Lyons
We are aftermath
recycled residue
afterburn of creation
our bodies built
from cluster upon cluster
of wayward particles
and we are eternal return
how many aeons
to shape a rose
the petals of thought
the palpitating heart
the desire to kiss to hold
and to caress
to love
what emerged from the dross
the debris of creation
in a structured universe
in which no amount
of matter or energy
is ever wasted
part of that immense
single unending event
words formed
from clusters of sound
and so to the surge
of the poetic line
the mindful word
travelling across space
or across the page
deluge of the imagination
and how life unleashed
feeds upon life
the unconscious cannibalism
of carbon
fanned by the flames
of oxidation
and all the time
I long to run my fingers
through her hair
wake to her dawn
all dust to dust
rose to rose
John Lyons
The rose has its imprint
petal softness of velvet
brushed against her lips
threads of life entwined
gold and silver and amethyst
honour in her silence
honour in her words
honour in her breath
though the rose requires
no tongue
Love
literally made
in the stars
and in the black nights
we gaze at our past
the foundry in which
we were first formed
before thought
That such intense heat
could give rise to tears
whether of joy or pain
to wisdom too
and sadly ignorance
: does there always
have to be a thorn
in the side ?
We say that paradise
is a place of grace and love
and all that stems
from light –
speech is in our nature
and silence too
the rose imprinted
needs no tongue
Look to your mirror
song will heal your heart
happiness is there
for the taking
syllables shaped
in the sound of light
the mirror says
love you too
John Lyons
Under a blue sky
I lay out my colours
this is the shape of them
their texture as revealed
by the light
There is a pattern
a gathering within
a certain geometry
but there is
spontaneity too
and ragged edges
you could say this canvas
has my fingers all over it
the brush marks are all mine
the choice of colours too
and some might say it’s not art
but who are they to judge
can art ever be truly defined
can love ?
John Lyons
The idea of beauty
shaped in the mind’s eye
because beauty is a shape
so too is love
in all its dimensions
proclivity to action
with a sense of purpose
it achieves where
other emotions fail
boundless too
though it shares
the shape of infinity
the sometime symbol
twisted
into gold or silver
that never ends
worn around the neck
set into equations
a quick calculation
beyond value
the sultry idea of her
of her watered eyes
of her hesitant hands
of her puffed lips
as they play
with words
the cat and mouse of her
wilfully oblivious
to consequence
no facts but in ideas
what the eyes apprehend :
by their deeds
you shall know them
ain’t that a fact !
John Lyons
