Not born of nothing
but from a substance
extracted from the stars :
and so our mineral minds
reason with our feelings
hearts remote yet not asunder
and everywhere number
and simplicities compounded
distance and space all relative
the objects of sense and love
a noise that radiates
throughout the known universe
the character of the affections
so deep that either was
the other’s mine and wisdom
an affair of the embedded soul
John Lyons
Tonight no stars
no mirror to my mood—
thick cloud rolled in from the west
and temperatures have risen
Rain or shine we make our luck
we also live and learn
as William woefully put it
So let’s not let remembrance
of things past drag us down
in sobbing sessions of sweet
silent thought : Get over it
and live for the day
John Lyons
Words and what we make of them
what we make with them
the neverending
riverrun of words
that advance in leaps and bounds
or that sing birdsong or the praises
of a rose its thorns set aside
or of your beauty under the rise
and fall of the sun
your daily body and thoughts
as you move about your business
as you are seen here and there
and as you are loved here
in the presence of my heart
The token of words spoken
palatable words that make
of the mouth a shrine
the tongue never still
in its devotion
words caught in the light
of your eyes
and on your live lips
John Lyons
Language that developed
out of deep need
that breath breathed into life
words by which our thoughts
are fleshed out
place where word and deed
coalesce and shape our lives
passionate palpitating texts
soundscape wordscape
of our day-to-day significance
the sense and sensibility of it
snow flurries on a northern hillside
flakes forever frozen
for all time captured
sight and sound recordings
of how good it feels to be alive
to live in the warmth of another’s love
out of the deep need
to give and to partake
to annotate the cry of angels
an eye spy upon the world
and to feel through what we see
to turn a deft hand to love
to pursue the heady heart
to celebrate with the pulse
of rhythm our soulful kinship
and how one body latches
onto another for all time
a kiss at the point of creation
what rises out of the mist
the perfect synthesis of light
beauty’s truth
the poetry of it all
the timed theme of our life
the ardent renewal
of the face of the earth
all wordthings in
immeasurable motion
in ecstatic dance
until our dying day
John Lyons
Now as the light fades
the sky turns ice blue
heralding a bitter wind
from the north
I shiver as I wait
for the train and along
the station platform
I see others rubbing
their hands or hopping
on their feet to keep warm
In the coming hours
the temperature will drop
still further but I will be in
out of the cold
content of heart
in the glow of your love
John Lyons
The grace that comes from knowing
that gift of consciousness
that places us at the very centre
of the imagined universe
that inner voice that guides
and informs us
that is aware
of all our yesterdays
and yet so eagerly
anticipates each tomorrow
The grace that comes
from feeling
that builds an intimate
world of sense
of enriched experience
and of all the emotions
that are ours
to have and to hold
John Lyons
Pure beauty
unfiltered
by words
by thought
by art
beauty as
sole purpose
as open orchid
flower
or lily bent
on enticement
or murmur
of the night sea
on the shore
pins of light
on the horizon
from gently
bobbing boats
trawling the ocean’s
the endless time
and space
John Lyons
What have I
in my breath
captured ?
The stillness
of the moment
the soundlessness
of a mind subdued
of words lying
at rest at ease
almost
In my breath
a single syllable
: rose
neither water
nor petal nor thorn
nor stem
No flowering
of the flower
simply
a rose
with its gaunt
silhouette bound
by the atomic energy
subdued within
The word will outlive the petals
that soon enough will
curl crisp and burn
in the oxidizing air
dust is its destiny
the fate we all share
but for the moment
its perfect form captivates
its opiate beauty enthralls
its fragrance entrances
and it is all
it needs to be
John Lyons
Stillness
of the mind
subdued
the cult
of energy
a rose
contemplated
in all its glory
given the attention
it deserves
the gift of time
its beauty admired
leisurely
each gentle fold
of each petal
lovingly explored
the fragrant
silence
John Lyons
Woven words
particles of sense
two hawks in flight
hovering over
the marshland
cold clear blue sky
the acuteness
of their vision
mapping the ground
beneath them
the hunting instinct
destined to make
their own way in life
ageless timeless creatures
of great beauty
killers nevertheless
John Lyons
