Author: irlandesuk

The fine threads of life

irlandesuk poetry

The fine threads of life

In the rose garden
           the blooms have faded :
the very sun that fed their growth
           has led them to their last days
fresh flowers will come again
           in late July or early August
it’s just a matter of time
           and of that universal process

how all things rise
           and all things fall
how life is followed by death
           and death by life
how we too rise up from birth
           and grow tall in love and beauty
before death cuts us down
           country style

These are the days
           never forget

John Lyons

 

The idea of justice

irlandesuk poetry

The idea of justice

The idea of justice
           is not justice
just as the idea
           of beauty

out into the sunshine
           knowing that the sun
brings forth beauty
           even as it fades it
and all that blooms
           is doomed to dust
the truth too
           may wither
and now
           is never enough

on the shore
           there are pebbles
and the sea
           is foaming

who will cast
           the first stone ?

 

John Lyons

Intimacies of time

irlandesuk poetry

Intimacies of time

Think of my far self
of the distance covered

isles of experience
days of darkness and light

nights of hope and love
and the words in which

I have placed my faith
words that have kept me

company : faithful stars
in my inner firmament

John Lyons

Vienna’s past participles

irlandesuk poetry

Vienna’s past participles

The lesson is
            that we are all history
history in the making
            and that one day
we will be history
            our acts finally over
and our achievements
            hung out to dry

Empires fall
            and the palaces and gardens
become curiosities
            the days of grandeur long over
the vast imperial buildings
            with their tall colonnades
and endless emblems
            of power and authority
are empty relics
            of the past

and everywhere you go
            classical white statues depicting
every imaginable motif
            creating a mythic atmosphere
and it is as though
            it was all intended to recreate
a past in which once upon a time
            it might have been noble to live

John Lyons

From an unknown papyrus

irlandesuk poetry

From an unknown papyrus

Why does the day end
            why bring on the night
its moon and stars
            and so much more
invisible to the naked eye
            and what was born
and what will die
            with the day that dies
and rise again
            as the morning rises

Hope and love that outlast
            the rituals of time and place
the latency of all life
            and every perception
every feeling caught
            and shaped and announced
in the amorous art
            of creation

John Lyons

Nachtritus

irlandesuk gedichte

Nachtritus

Und nachts
      wie die Musik des Tages verblasst
und Vögel legen sich ruhig hin
      in ihren Nestern
und die Straßen sind leer
      und ein Vollmond
schaut von hinten
      ein Streifen dicker Wolke
Sie können zu Hause sitzen
      mit allem was Sie brauchen
sicherlich verliebt
      von denen um dich herum
Sie können einen Moment verschonen
      über die Notlage nachdenken
von anderen weniger Glücklichen
      und zähle deinen Segen

John Lyons

Night rite

irlandesuk poetry

Night rite

And at night
      as the music of the day fades
and birds settle in silence
      into their nests
and the streets empty
      and a full moon
peers from behind
      a swathe of thick cloud
you may sit at home
      wanting for nothing
secure in the love
      of those around you
you may spare a moment
      to consider the plight
of others less fortunate
      and count your blessings

John Lyons

St Stephen’s Vienna

irlandesuk poetry , ,

St Stephen’s Vienna

The intricacies of faith
      the cool silent shadows
all things seen
      from every angle
emblematic art
      the pleasure and the pain
the terrifying passion
      the beauty of it all

Towering spires through which
      the wind whispers
a message that reaches
      into the depths of the soul
a monument to craft
      to guilds and fellowship
to a belief fixed
      on unshifting foundations
decor decorum decoration
      all the outward signs
gathered under one roof
      the devil in the detail

John Lyons

Ein Tag an der Donau

irlandesuk gedichte, poesía

danubeEin Tag an der Donau

Wir gehen zur Donau
      mit dem Fahrrad: und auf der anderen Seite
aus dem weiten blauen Wasser
      die Schwäne schwammen in einer Reihe
an die Küste geklebt
      in Richtung Norden
Ruhe den Fluss
      außer wo es gesaugt hat
die Steine des Flussufers
      und brach in kleine Wellen.

Und die Zeit verging
      und nichts wurde getan
und mein Geist trieb in der Ferne
      und überall wurde
nirgends
      und nun
wurde war
      und es war gut

John Lyons

Walking to Eynsford

irlandesuk poetry

Eynsford_ford

Walking to Eynsford

That you could walk
      for miles across fields
of richly tall and ripe
      barley and oats
and never cross a road
      sticking solely to public
rights of way cutting diagonally
      across the North Downs
to the medieval village
      of Eynsford

That life journey we shared
      a father with his three sons
and one of his daughters /Mary/
      who was always game for adventure
and we carried sandwiches
      and a large bottle of lemonade
and in the photos
      we took turns to wear
my father’s hat
      though it was far too big
and fitted none of us
      and never did

And on the far side of the river
      long-horned cattle grazed
and we paddled in the cold stream
      and baked under the sun
and the sound of childhood laughter
      drifted away on the summer air

John Lyons