Author: irlandesuk

Uncle Matt

irlandesuk poetry ,

Uncle Matt

My father’s uncle Matt
           a quiet gentle man
who enjoyed a pint
           and would dress
for the occasion
           in his Sunday best

I remember
           his black leather boots
placed neatly
           at the side of the bed
and how quietly
           he slept

He was from Arklow
           and was often a lodger
but I never knew
           what he did nor did I ask
and so light on his feet
           he’d come and go like a ghost
and his brogue so soft
           you’d hardly hear
a single word :
           that’s all I can say

John Lyons

Camille Pissarro

irlandesuk poetry ,
Pissarro
Camille Pissarro – Street in Upper Norwood

Camille Pissarro

Tiny brushstrokes
           tiny blobs of paint
not a person
           not a horse
nor a dog
           but the idea
of that thing
           suggested in oils

no single detail making any sense
            on its own
but taken as a whole
           instantly recognisible
genius on the end
           of a sable brush
coloured pigments
           mixed with linseed oil
applied on canvas
           breathing eternal life
into the inhabitants
           of Upper Norwood

John Lyons

 

Notes towards . . .

irlandesuk poetry

Notes towards . . .

In the uncertain light
       some certainties
the passage of time
       the coming and going
of the seasons
       youth followed hopefully
by the wisdom of age
       and a little less ignorance
hell receding as the heavens
       come a little closer
less fear of fear
       and life refreshed
in the commerce
       of words and the truth
of poetry and belief
       in the purity of love

John Lyons

Blessing

irlandesuk poetry

Blessing

Those personal truths
the ones we hold

dear to our heart
and the knowledge

that grows
through our intimacy

traits I’ve noticed
in you and you in me

your sweet tooth
and your love of dance

my stubborn mind
and your endlessly

forgiving nature
I feel truly blessed

John Lyons

The world

irlandesuk poetry

The world

The world as we know it
       or the world as we see it
or the world as we feel it
       or the world as we make it
or the world as we use it
       or the world as we choose it
or the world as we want it
       or the world as we love it
or the world as we endure it
       or the world as we admire it
or the world as we would change it
       or the world as we take it
or the world as we leave it
       or the world as we left it

John Lyons

Quantum orange

irlandesuk poetry

Quantum orange

Hard to believe
that an orange

comes ultimately
from the sun

its rich colour and
its succulent flesh

the tang of its juice
all out of the ground

ripened under rays
of golden sunshine

product of a perfect
marriage between

the heavens and earth
right here right now

John Lyons

 

 

Love song

irlandesuk poetry

Love song

Between us a pattern
           of affections
that carries us through
           the splintered light
of the primrose day
           delicate as a breath
of summer air

so often I have turned
           to see my love
in your eyes
           as we walked by the river
or under the city lights

or leaf upon leaf falling
           in the woodlands
where we have traipsed
           together my tongue
never tiring of your name

happiness and grace
           that come from the knowing
and the showing
           of that sole syllable
eternal in its undying

John Lyons

Halloween

irlandesuk poetry ,

Halloween

Thorns nettles wasp tails
           sting less than harsh words
or the silence
           of an indifferent lover
or one who betrays
           time’s pledge
or one who rebukes
           with an overzealous tongue

we are all innocents
           until proven guilty
our star-grooved gaze
           fixed upon
the marauding crows
           that hover and cavort
in unvanquished space
           and mortify our dreams

John Lyons

A word to the wise

irlandesuk poetry

A word to the wise

Had I a hat
           I’d raise it
to the world
           but I’m drawn
to the moon
           that waxes misty
above the dark city
           skyline

Winter is a-coming
           and the goose
is getting fat
           and I am all eyes
as the train hurtles
           past people’s homes
the barren walls
           of their civilised caves

and I think of peace
           and harmony
rather than
           dog eat dog
and the futile
           pretence to wisdom

John Lyons