A clear day
and no memories
sun glistening
on the water’s surface
of Spirit Quay where a grey wagtail
is hopping from one
lily pad to another—
a yellow-bellied male
with a black throat and
whitish moustachial stripes
Barges moored by the riverside
are flying the Ukrainian flag
and people are sunning themselves
in the Hermitage memorial garden
: the tide is out and time
is taking a break
John Lyons
A clear day
and no memories
the treeline in the distance
dappled with sunshine
Today I will walk and ride
and sit and dream
by the riverside
where our life flowed
so sweetly
All those years
that meant so much
the many bridges
we crossed
the many sunsets
we shared
the laughter
and the love
the many petals
of fallen roses
John Lyons
I cannot speak your thoughts
no more than I can read
the mind of the stars
That fear possessed you
I know this :
that your courage failed
at the point of decision
and so you withdrew
I know that in that moment
whole cities faded out of sight
and certain ardent words were lost
as you hid your heart from me
We are of the world but
we cannot fix it unless
we’re prepared to defend
love’s innocence and carry
our convictions to the grave
and never betray our kiss
John Lyons
This is how the wind shifts
from one moment to another
the result of the tussle
between high and low pressure
and as the wind shifts
so too the day and all
the illusions and disillusions
it brings as part of its baggage
and our thoughts go spinning
and our feelings reeling
as warm and cold fronts clash
under the barometric weight
human eagerness driven by
clear blue skies can so easily
collapse into lethargy and
irrational gloom :
it takes a spark to ignite
our passions and set the stage
for love and romance to unfold
and fill our lives with joy
The silence of things
that have no voice
no means of expression
above and beyond
their physical shape
and characteristics
things so often
in the backdrop
that we barely notice
stones in the road
that only occasionally
cause us to trip
And yet they are
presence and context
where what we talk of
takes place or unfolds
Our fascination
with the moon
and the stars and the sea
with lakes and rivers
all of which are in
perpetual motion
and have deep purpose
and speak volumes to us
on their own terms
in their own language
devoid of syllables
but full of sense
And we speculate constantly
about never-ending things
the chain of life and death
systolic and diastolic and all
that happens in between
Love should be among
those never-ending things
and sometimes it is
but all too often
there comes a sharp speech
a withering conversation
and the voices dry up
and love no longer is
John Lyons
The silence of things
that have no voice
no means of expression
above and beyond
their physical shape
and characteristics
things so often
in the backdrop
that we barely notice
And yet they are
presence and context
where what we talk of
takes place or unfolds
Our fascination
with the stars
and the sea
with lakes and rivers
all of which have motion
and deep purpose
and speak to us
on their own terms
in their own language
devoid of syllables
but full of meaning
And we speculate
constantly about
never-ending things
the chain of life and death
and all that happens
in between
Love should be
a never-ending thing
and sometimes it is
but all too often
there comes a speech
and the conversation
dries up and
it no longer is
John Lyons
“in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes”
The wOrds saD and beauty, the
woRds thORN and desIRe;that si-
lence that is anathemA to musicke, you-
r loVer torn betwEEn a rock and a
hard place;body of love laid snug
to rest;inTemPerate riSe and faLL
of quickSilver.Stay A while and I
will take your baroMetriC press-
ure;a feBrile finGer strays upon y-
our impulse.O lord, lead us into temp-
tation,bEforE it is tOO late.But for
the worDs,beTimes, all is dusT.
18 April 2005
John Lyons
A clear day :
fresh leaves on the trees
have brought the ancient woodland
to life : school has yet to begin
but soon the young
will be making their way
along the path through the woods
to their classes
the youngest will hop and skip
and chatter their innocent
knowledge full of the excitement
and anticipation of what
the day holds
the new meanings
that their activities
will create
Today the air is clear
and this small world
is touched by sunshine
The young have inherited
this part of the world
this spectacle lived previously
by others long gone
And the woodland’s understory
is alive with new growth
holly and dogwood
ivy and nettles
saplings fighting for their share
of the light
John Lyons
A complex of occasions
a life
three score and ten
: to have known love
more than once
and for the memory
to burn as a flame
in the mind
Yesterday in April still
the first white butterfly
of the season
gliding above the debris
in the railway cutting
All things are measures
of other things
some trees now in flower
others with foliage
about to burst forth
Beneath the complexity
the cycles that drive
the natural world
the song of the nightingale
and the manmade beauty
of the Grecian urn
and the web of words
that binds us together
in communities and
in our homes and
in our hearts
and in our beds
John Lyons
Cosmic ash drifting
through the universe
and that special light in Venice
in which the artists
caught a glimpse of heaven
a composite of glorious colour
every square inch adorned
and the word that survives
: layer upon layer of faith
in the promise of rewards
to come and the art
a bulwark against
falsehood and betrayal
trust and steadfast belief
truth cut into stone
or worked
into precious metal
honesty of the artist
valued for all time
love honoured in all ways
John Lyons
