Beauty is born
in the heart
and is
as all else is
process
from young
to late life
even as the cosmos
had a birth
was born—
into what
heart?
And time
in time
the unfolding
of beauty
once again the rose
once again my love
arrayed
in all her glory
John Lyons
If or when or perhaps
we have every right
to savour our uncertainties
for there is no ultimate code
to define our being
there is no definitive shape
to our lives
we live in the making
of the moment
in the seizing of the day
in the giving of all
the love we have within us
and so we try and fail
and try again
to find our step
to find our way
to become the fullness
of our own being
Oak and daffodil
orchid and elm
have no such freedom
to recast themselves
in a different mould
each of us a species
unto our own
living and loving
in trial and error
so that the fittest
of our selves survives
till kingdom come
John Lyons
A single white swan
on the canal
up by Harrow Road
as though it had been
waiting for me
and that I just had
to admire the purity
of its plumage
the supple elegance of its
slender slow-bending neck
the necessary simplicity
of its being in the world
without a care
a promise of things
to come
in good time
John Lyons
Breath was his foundation
he saw the world
through his mind
and in his heart
and acknowledged
the wisdom in all things
the lilies in the field
the trees that shed
their shadow in autumn
the lizard that crawls
beneath a rock
and observes
—it is after all
an observant universe
and a complex
of simplicities
and simple contrasts
even of extremes
but love mellows
all things
and renders time
irrelevant
How generous
the earth and the seas
that feed us :
let us use our breath
to celebrate
and give thanks
for the mercy
of love
John Lyons
This describes her love
a place of first permission
no ephemeral dream
but a property of her mind
and of her body
a construct of flesh and blood
as a flower is formed
in the open field
a gesture of invitation
a hand extended
with words enfolded
on her lips
The properties of love
are truth and beauty
pure as the greening sun
that ripens all life
creating place out of chaos
and such architectures
that cast no shadow
she the host to my visitations
I bring roses and orchids
and daffodils to brighten
the table at which we dine
and share the secrets
of coherent
multiplication
This is no game
no history
but a ring around
celebrated jointly
with full-throated vows
no nightingale so melodious
here hours are the dust
that love drives away
here the flame may flicker
but never die
here where our minds
are made up
John Lyons
We who have learnt
of the urgencies of love
who have lain
in the meadow
among dandelions
in a place made serene
by her gentle presence
the flame of wild flowers
fluttering in the summer
breeze and all thoughts
all feelings and all sensations
folded into one mind
all shadows chased away
into the darkness
of hours yet to come
she a creation of the light
reflected in the light
of my love as I in hers
Yes to reciprocity
to harmonies of colour
and the cadences
of liable lips
Yes to passions
that know no bounds
unleashed in some distant
primal storm of energy
all sight all sound all silence
always and again
John Lyons
Life from breath to breath
living on the spur of the moment
among roses and daffodils
down by Erith Deep Wharf
the river’s ebb revealing
the mudflats where long-legged
oyster-catchers and other waders
eke out an existence
so much memory
so much sunken time
so much change since I was a child
the wooden jetties collapsed
replaced by the cold hard cement
of progress and the dull hand
of municipal planning in which
the imagination is forced
into a backseat or is totally costed
out of the process
degenerate regeneration
as though nobody was ever expected
to survive the onslaught
all that corrodes
with no eye for beauty
no ear for the truth
no rest for the innocent
no life for lovers
John Lyons
What am I to take from this day
with its grey sky and fine drizzle
and a brisk breeze combing the leaves
and a lawn on which a fox is playing
with a child’s ball pushing it
back and forth with its paw
and in the background I hear
the hum of traffic and the to and fro
of people about their business
a mixture of speed and stealth
of purpose and acute indecision
What am I to make of these hours
and minutes before nightfall
before the blossom gives way
to fruit and prayers are answered
and summer descends with its promise
of beauty and peace and endless love
John Lyons
There is a time too
for silence
to live in the moment
to observe and to appreciate
how wordlessly the world
articulates its beauty
and how love between
two people does not always
require verbal expression
Sometimes the words
are mere obfuscation
an interference that disturbs
the communication of feelings
deeper than anything
the teeth tongue and lips
can express
John Lyons
The particles of matter
that made me
what I am
soft-voiced but no sparrow
I sing to myself each morning
even in silence my mind sings
and it is the same song
over and over
I ask myself
Has all this sunlight
come to this ?
And how I am driven
to search among words
for the right words
and how I will know them
when I hear them
when I see them
when I feel them
when I live them
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 