I think how different
the world would be
if the gasmen
digging up the road
outside my house
had taken a vow of silence
But no – it’s early morning
and they gather
and their excited chatter
is as though
they had not seen
each other for years
The foreman arrives
at eight on the dot
and sets them to work
: only the drills and
the mechanical diggers
finally silence them
John Lyons
A green hill that rolls off
into the distance
people are out
walking their dogs
and birds are mustering
too far away for me
to identify the species
a squirrel has been
running back and forth
on the rim
of the garden fence
I’m not sure I know
the purpose of it all
but does it really matter ?
I have a nodding
acquaintance
with the cosmos
I know that energy
is the origin of all life
and that we all
end our days
as potash
In the meantime
we have been granted
the beauty of sight and sound
and the desire to love
and be loved
Ownership
possessions
pass through our hands
Time marks progress
and decay
each moment is precious
each step each breath
Only love makes sense
of a life
only love can hold it
all together
John Lyons
Magpies do not
sing madrigals –
more reserved
than the thrush
than the sparrow
In this still air
I watch them glide
from one tree
to another barely
a muscle flexed
Treat every day
as the start
of a new year –
the ornithological
perspective
that perpetuates
the good news
If she is heartless
if he is joyless
move on
they are a waste
of daffodils and roses
No kiss can compensate
for the betrayal
of love’s promise
John Lyons
La promesse d’amour
Les pies ne chantent
pas de madrigaux –
plus réservées
que le muguet
que le moineau
Dans cet air calme
je les regarde glisser
d’un arbre
à un autre à peine
un muscle fléchi
Traiter tous les jours
comme le début
d’une nouvelle année –
la perspective ornithologique
qui perpétue
la bonne nouvelle
Si elle a le cœur dur
si lui est sans joie
laisse-les tomber
ils sont une perte
de jonquilles et de roses
Aucun baiser ne peut
compenser la trahison
de la promesse d’amour
Behind us
the bare bones
of winter
Voluble birdsong
buds about to burst
into leaf and frail
flower
Out with the old love
in with the new
when it comes
to her beauty
I’m all eyes
the soul is not
superficial
it keeps faith
with those
who keep faith
John Lyons
My reflection tells me
that I have aged
my heart tells me
that I have not
I have shrugged off
her ugly betrayal
as I would shake dust
from my shoes
the death of a star
is nothing to lament
in the firmament they are
as fish in the sea
Sparrows sing of roses
there in the bud
of petals about to unfold
new love that spring brings
John Lyons
Secouez la poussière
Mon reflet me dit
que j’ai vieilli
mon coeur me dit
que je n’ai pas
J’ai ignoré
sa vilaine trahison
comme je secouerais la poussière
de mes chaussures
la mort d’une étoile
n’a rien à déplorer –
dans le firmament elles sont
comme des poissons dans la mer
Les moineaux chantent des roses
des boutons sur le point de fleurer
d’un nouvel amour
que le printemps apporte
Carrara – a detail, John Lyons (25 x 30 cm, oil on canvas)
A patterned chaos of colour
on the canvas
oils masquerading as marble
quarried out of Carrara
a flat surface to be curved
around a tall column
nano dots of pigment
bound to the supple fabric
paint applied
with a flick of the wrist
Somewhere in there
is the beast I have hunted
all my life
the image the images
that lie beneath
art composed according
to first principles –
acrid smoke rises
in the mouth of the cave
a community gathers
to feast on the spoils
of the day
By the light
of the leaping flames
let us leave history
on the walls
let us record this day
for all who follow
in our steps
let us slay the beast
for all time
let us slay time
John Lyons
Coffee on the brain
the morning fix
juice from the beans
roasted and ground
to a coarse dust
a planet around which
the addict’s life revolves
those who cannot function
without their regular shots
I have seen the plantations
the huge yards
where the harvested beans
were spread out to dry
in the tropical sun
the terraces of cells
where the slaves slept
the fine house the wealth
all built on the sweat
of so many others’ brows
John Lyons
There is always so much
going on in my mind
a tidal wave of thought
and feelings
from the moment I wake
Two robins are hopping
on the garden wall
the valentine red
of their breasts
bobbing up and down
To them life is a game
but a game that they
will never know
even though the snow
has yet to melt away
completely the robins
know their next move
instinctively – spring
eggs at Easter
and a clutch of eager
mouths to feed
John Lyons
When we reach for the stars
it’s because that’s where
we wish to return –
we were born there
that was our first home
and we’ve travelled so far
through vast glacial expanses
of deep darkness
just to be here
just to be now
We are stars made flesh
and on our faces feel
the cold flakes of snow
driven in on harsh
Siberian winds –
and so we hunger
for warmth and the touch
of another’s hand
ever eager to embrace
a melting heart
John Lyons
No lie
no metaphor
to talk of clay
to talk of ash
we are particles
of debris
we rise up
from the earth
with one sole
purpose
that is
to love
to make
of our lives
love
tenderness
comes naturally
as nature is
all-giving
out of the loam
our bones
our skin
a cosmic fabric
hydrogen
oxygen carbon
the building blocks
of life
on your lips
a taste
of the universe
parent
of us all
our atoms born
a breath away
from the point
of creation
John Lyons
