Last night a clear sky
and a full moon
woke in the early hours
heard the screech of foxes
a rabble formed
at the end of the garden
it seemed to go on
forever
and then suddenly
it stopped
but who knows what plot
they were hatching
John Lyons
The energy that runs
through our veins
what I like to call
star-blood
and this world
driven by light
and reality
weighed down
by time
and the cities
that rise up
within us
the rivers
that rise and fall
and endless words
beauty and truth
and love
and César Vallejo
that most human
of poets
who wrote
of how much
it costs
to be poor
John Lyons
“la cantidad enorme que cuesta el ser pobre,” César Vallejo, Los poemas humanos
What wisdoms exist
to fill the thin years
of false economies
what prudence is there
to protect the body politic
when all seems blotched and botched :
our dreams are not dysfunctional
though our actual words and deeds
may well be so though it is a failure
not of surfaces but of systems
We are all of consequence
from the moment we take
our first gasp of air
innocents all
scouring creation
for a book of revelations
but we are all necessary journey
and transformation
and our electrons will live forever
within the hawk or sparrow
or the iridescent dragonfly
that skims the shimmering
summer waters and transcend
the dreary bond of time
that momentarily anchors
our dust to the day
John Lyons
We are of the earth and yet
subject to the same first principles
fragments of an expanding cosmos
driven by the same waves of energy
that created the fox and the badger
the rose and the lilies in the field
we are flotsam and jetsam
atomic debris attuned to time
and conditioned to pursue
truth and beauty and to romance
this fragile world with our words
voices crying out in the wilderness
John Lyons
A plump black cat with a white belly
stands on the garden wall
and has a good look around
it can hear a bird chirping
pneumatically in a bush close by
Today the sun is up
it’s going to be a scorcher
the cat is there on the wall
indecisively surveying the scene
taking mental notes or
sketching out a plan for the day
Scarcely a single lilac bloom
has survived the onslaught
of the oxidising air that has
turned them all to rusty combs
soon to be dust : let that
be a lesson to us all— they don’t
come any clearer
John Lyons
Last night you called and I’m sorry
that I missed you
I was working all evening
and wasn’t expecting a call
because mostly you don’t call
when you’re away
though last night you did
but I didn’t hear the phone
because my head was buried
in my work : so much to do
and so I missed your call
and I’m really sorry
because it would’ve been
so nice to hear your voice
and to know what you’ve been up to
and how you’re doing
and things like that but I’d no idea
you’d call because
so often you don’t :
so at the end of the evening
/really far too late/
I was surprised when
I noticed I’d missed
an unexpected call
from you
— I’m so sorry
John Lyons
These honey-scented
purple inflorescences
have had their day
these once bright clusters
or panicles of flowers
are fading fast and
oxidation in many
has already had its way
with once vivid hues
now drained to rust
if there is a lesson
it is to make hay
yet not to forget
that in turn the hay
will one day turn
to dust
John Lyons
Sweet alyssum sweet asylum
the resolution of love’s equations
in the approximation of distances
let the heart not reprove
nor the eye fall foul of truth
in all its radiant beauty
music is there to invoke
to guide our steps to the stars
not to distract but to raise us up
to the heights that lie within us
our lives driven ever soulwards
fulfilled in the soft-petalled bliss
of love stripped of pain and error
wisdom pledged in piety and patience
John Lyons
If I could describe your beauty
If I could recreate in words
a breathing replica
of your flesh and bone
I would do so but I can’t
so although I must accept
the only tools I have
/my words/
they will never do
and in my heart I know
there can never be
a substitute for you
John Lyons
Horses for as long as I can remember
grazing in the field that borders
a cemetery attached to a Norman church
Work horses that do no work and sometimes
gather in the centre of the pasture
or under the shade of the old oaks
that line the northern perimeter
Week after week fresh graves are dug
in the burial ground that seems never
to run out of space : through gaps
in the fencing people stop to feed
carrots on which the horses chomp
without a care in the world
John Lyons
Des chevaux pour autant que je me souvienne
Qui pâturent dans le domaine qui borde
Un cimetière attaché à une église normande.
Des chevaux de travail qui ne travaillent pas
Et parfois se rassemblent au centre du pâturage
Ou à l’ombre des vieux chênes qui marquent
la limite du périmètre nord.
Semaine après semaine, on creuse
de fosses fraîches dans le cimetière
Qui ne semble jamais manquer d’espace :
Profitant de trous dans la clôture
Les gens s’arrêtent pour offrir des carottes
Aux chevaux qui les mâchent
Sans le moindre souci du monde.
Caballos allí desde cuando yo recuerdo
Pastando en el campo que bordea
Un cementerio junto a una iglesia normanda.
Caballos de trabajo que no trabajan
Y a veces se reúnen en el centro del pasto
O en la sombra de los antiguos robles
que marcan el límite del perímetro norte.
Semana tras semana, se cavan
nuevas tumbas en el camposanto
Que nunca parece quedarse sin espacio:
Aprovechando huecos en la cerca
La gente se detiene para ofrecer zanahorias
Que los caballos mastican
Sin el menor cuidado en el mundo.
Cavalos lá desde quando me lembro
Pastando no campo que fica ao lado
Do cemitério de uma igreja normanda.
Cavalos de trabalho que não trabalham
E às vezes eles se reúnem no centro do pasto
Ou à sombra dos antigos carvalhos
Que marcam o perímetro setentrional.
Semana após semana escavam
novos túmulos no cemitério
Que nunca parece ficar sem espaço:
Aproveitando buracos na cerca
As pessoas param para oferecer cenouras
Que os cavalos mastigam
Sem a menor preocupação no mundo.
johnjosephlyons 