Author: irlandesuk

Landscape with blue sky

irlandesuk art, poetry

sketch
Landscape with blue sky, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm, oil on canvas) 

The fact is
        that anything goes
as long as boundaries
        are respected
that is to say
        the sun and the blue sky
remain above the fields
        and farm buildings

Paintings are colourscapes
        full of hints and suggestions
Renaissance nativities or crucifixions
        have become easy on the eye
imagine now a stage upon which
        reds and yellows and blues
and whites dance freely
        and follow nothing but
the most basic rules :
        seek and you shall find 

John Lyons

Love’s bone structure

irlandesuk art, poetry

third detail
          Third detail, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

The high cheekbones
        the shape of the eyes
the thin smile
        the unobtrusive ears
the slender neck
        her supple feet

The feet of a dancer
        trained to pace the floor
with dignity and poise
        a frame upon which
fabrics sat elegantly
        could bear the weight
of primary colours
        had she found
someone to love
        she might have
loved him forever
        dearly deeply

John Lyons

The promised land

irlandesuk art, poetry

further detail
  Further detail, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

The colour of my words
        set against a dark grid
behind which the light
        struggles to be seen

So many horizons
        a maze of directions
that twist and turn
        bound by the canvas

My heart has become
        a plaything in her hands
she speaks of paradise but
        denies me the promised land

John Lyons

Love’s hard lines

irlandesuk art, poetry

minor detail
          Minor detail, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Figment done
        in pigment :
the devil
        is in the detail
a composition
        to raise a hue
and cry

If you must have it
        at least let me see
the colour
        of your money

Here there is
        light and darkness
within the geometry
        of chaos

A representation
        of mood
of a life lived
        on the hoof
a mere hint at
        the hard lines
of the love left
        in her wake

John Lyons

Eternal art

irlandesuk art, poetry

greenpepper

Two peppers
        painted for no reason
green and white pigment
        on a background
of cadmium yellow
        on a circle of wood :
rough surface
        rough texture

The old argument
        art versus nature
rehearsed down
        the centuries :
that which lives
        and breathes
and that which may
        last forever

John Lyons

Emigrant song

irlandesuk poetry

They let the grass
grow high in the meadow
then bring in the sheep
to keep it trim

In one corner
the church with its
tall steeple : on
summer days
it casts a long
shadow

So many shadows
in their blighted lives

Here so many hearts
failed as the years
bled them to death

Everywhere else
was a land of plenty
and love was the ticket

She finally left
when the roses
were in bloom

One summer’s day
For years nobody
noticed she was gone

John Lyons

Out of the air

irlandesuk poetry

Out of the air
out of the sun
out of the earth
all beauty

a world
made flesh
the bone and blood
sustained
by the warmth
of her breath

the long hair
that spins
in the wild wind
that lashes
her ruddy cheeks

her voice strung
with the strings
of a harp
I could listen
for hours
for a lifetime

watch her fingers
admire the spoils
of her handiwork

Those were fine days
never to be forgotten
a life lived
in the shape of love

John Lyons

Sunshine brings out the best

irlandesuk poetry ,

A gaggle of geese
overhead heading
for a family reunion
at Blackheath
by the pond
     where willows weep

Sunshine brings out
the best in us
the best being
that ability to live
     in the moment

To love in the moment
grateful for small mercies
Life and death
     at our fingertips

The grass is greener
in winter : parched
     under summer skies

My advice ?
Identify a single star
and stick with it
rain or shine
     thick or thin

And a dose of love
     can do no harm

John Lyons

Party time

irlandesuk poetry, translation ,

Steel fireworks
How charming these illuminations
     Artificer’s artifice
Lends a little style to courage

Two air-burst shells
Pink explosion
Like two breasts set loose
Their nipples insolently pointing
WHAT A LOVER
                  What an epitaph

A poet in the forest
       His revolver half-cocked
Observes with indifference
Roses dying of hope

He thinks of Saadi’s roses
And suddenly his head slumps
When a rose reminds him
Of the soft curve of her hip

The air stinks with a terrible alcohol
Filtered by half-closed stars
The shells caress the soft
Night perfume where you rest
     Mortification of the roses

Guillaume Apollinaire
(translation by John Lyons)

Note: A later version of this poem appeared in the previous post

Warrior roses – Apollinaire

irlandesuk poetry, translation ,

Celebration with steel lanterns
How charming these illuminations
Murderous fireworks
But with courage one has a good time

Two rockets pink explosion
Like two breasts that one releases
Insolently point their nipples
What a lover What an epitaph

A poet in the forest
Observes with indifference
His half-cocked revolver
The roses dying in silence

Roses from an abandoned park
And which he gathers at the fountain
At the end of the diverted path
Where each evening he strolls

He thinks of Sâdi’s roses
And suddenly his head slumps
When a rose reminds him
Of the soft curve of her hip

The air is filled with a terrible alcohol
Filtered by half-closed stars
The shells sob in their flight
The amorous death of roses

September 1915
Guillaume Apollinaire
(translation by John Lyons)

From Poèmes à Lou, a series of poems Apollinaire sent from the front line in letters addressed to his girlfriend at the time.