Head in the clouds

What living thing
does not die
: the spirit
so they say

animus

and poetry
that cares
for the soul

what brings us
through the wreck
of our lives

the lily
the rose
the tiger
these all die too

defenceless
in the drift of days
their existence
driven by sunrise
and sunset and the need
for sustenance

not a single word
of comfort
or consolation
no entertainment
no true leisure
which is a slackening
of imperatives

to think of the clouds
whisps of water
borne on high
the stuff of life
before our eyes
the common denominator
without which nothing
or next to nothing

John Lyons

Call it what you will

So easy to be dismissive
of poetry that demands attention
that rises above the anecdote
that infuses words with fresh energies

we who live upon the life-giving earth
who are all part of a vast process
how the sea clamours at our shores
and the untamed forces that lie

deep beneath the tectonic plates
that shift and tremor and how
through fissures rivers of molten lava
pour through volcanoes bringing

fire ash and brimstone and how
the leaves are slowly turning
green oxidised to rusty yellows
and browns and what was supple

and breathed in the air is now
dry and friable and ready to fall

John Lyons

Kicking back my heels

Today’s stars say
that I should do nothing
that I should relax
that I’ve been working
too hard and that I need
to take a break
to chill out
let time off the leash
and hang loose
not get worked up
about a single thing

today’s stars say
that I’m at risk
of burnout
that I’ve been pushing
myself too hard
taking life too seriously
working my fingers
to the bone
and that I need
to learn a little
Latin mañana
so I will

John Lyons

Star breath

Love is not over
           love that comes
with soft touch
           and gentle words
love is not over
           The eyes search
and the hands reach
           and all the senses
are alive in expectation
           Love’s sweet perfume
fills the air
           thrills the heart
is there in the memory
           of what will always be
wholesome love
           that delights
in the pleasure
           of another
The simplicity of love
           defies the convoluted
beauty of roses
           the levity of butterflies
it is the life-breath of stars :
           No — love is not over

John Lyons

A seasonal dirge

The slow drizzle at daybreak
condensation on the skylight

the wet roofs of houses
and the stillness and the silence

The words that are a poem
of themselves their syllables

evoking a moment and a mood
: the actor who aged into the role

of King Lear his face a rough
wasteland of stubbled flesh

September with its misty tableaux
its clouds of ghosts its muffled sounds

a pronounced change in the air
the wilds the storm the wintry night

John Lyons

Cutting back

Red-tinged clouds
          and the light fading fast
From my window a flat
          two-dimensional landscape
Crows cawing en route to their nests
          I wonder where that might be

Evening settles in
          calms my mind
the day’s concerns laid aside
          for the day

Wind is forecast
          several blustery days
to shake down the trees
          Autumn leaves : year after year
the same patterns repeated
          The harvests are in
the bare earth tilled
          orchards heavy
with apple and pear
          waiting to be picked

John Lyons

Today’s poem is an edited version of a poem posted yesterday evening

At the end of the day

Tonight clouds tinged
          with red
but the light fading fast
          so that seen from my window
the trees appear two-dimensional
          a flat landscape

I hear the crows cawing
          as they make their way
to their nests
          and I wonder where
those nest might be
          high up
in some tree top
          no doubt

Evening settling in
          and with it my mind calms
and whatever concerns I have
          are laid aside for another day

The forecast is for wind
          the prospect of several blustery days
to shake the autumn leaves
          to the ground : year after year
the same patterns are repeated
          Farmers have taken in their harvests
have tilled the bare earth
          though the orchards are heavy
with ripe apples and pears
          waiting to be picked

John Lyons