Love’s simplicity
The stem
that rises
up from
the earth
green
and fresh
that flowers
and stands
tall
in its delicate
beauty
if but
for a few
brief days
John Lyons
Love’s simplicity
Author: irlandesuk
Poetic mastery
Poetic mastery
How journeyed ?
thought that leads
to shape
shape to thought
the impulse to create
to innovate
to add fresh colour
to revitalize
to labour at an idea
from tree
to wood
to table
to an installation
that spells domesticity
a home built
from forms
all of which
are a kind of script
a man-made world
by women too
the structures
we inhabit
our practices
how they shift
with time—
all works
of the imagination
and of these
the greatest
is love
John Lyons
It didn’t rain
It didn’t rain
It didn’t rain
there was no thunder
the storm passed
and left the world intact
the trees shook a little
bird nests were rattled
squirrels and foxes
went to ground
and for a moment
the sky grew dark
and menacing
but it didn’t rain
and there was no thunder
the storm just passed
and left the world intact
and now it’s now
and the sun is shining
and people are smiling
and the birds are singing
foxes are prowling
and I am writing
now and again
John Lyons
Yellow Flag
Yellow Flag
In the shallow waters
of the pond
on Wimbledon Common
yellow irises thrive
in May and June
Here where water fowl
come to breed
they rise up
with their long
sword-shaped leaves
standing almost a metre tall
As yellow flag or sword-grass
they have entered
the popular imagination
and were once believed
to keep the powers of evil at bay
When herons spot them
from the air they know
that they are close
to a place they can call home
John Lyons
Nijinsky in the woods
Nijinsky in the woods
I’ve noticed how the light
moves through the woodlands
with great stealth
how it prowls in bushes
and seeps into the soil
whenever there is a clearing
and how in nature
all things talk to each other
in their own special way
I marvel at the long row of trees
on the edge of the open green
all standing at the same height
a beautiful emerald chorus line
swaying this way and that
when the whistling wind blows
to animate their ballet
John Lyons
Back in the day
Back in the day
Summers
we would wander up
to the lake
go boating
or sun ourselves
in the open air pool
the lake is still there
the small rowboats
that encouraged the swans
to keep to themselves
The grass is no greener
than it was
when we were children
sometimes the summers
were long and hot
sometimes not
since then
so much has passed
and yet still
so much remains
John Lyons
Increments of awareness
Increments of awareness
What one poet steals
from another
feathers from another nest
tropes of the imagination
deep-mined from seams of thought
words feeling their way
through life
a sequencing of the unconscious
if that makes sense
love is indivisible
it simply cannot be stripped down
to constituent parts
as if to say night
as if to say day
or the sun and the moon
that mope in the heavens
while philosophers doodle
in the dark
and gnarled trees
bend to the will
of prevailing winds
poets steeled
against the inclemency
of indifference
One wonders was Homer
blind from birth
and if not so
whether he ever left home
and sailed to sea
John Lyons
Midnights are commonplace
Midnights are commonplace
Midnights are commonplace
but a straight rain is rare
a rain that falls perfectly
perpendicularly
without deviation
that hits you
on the crown of the head
and runs around the contours
of your naked body
down to the ground
don’t ask where
don’t ask why naked
don’t ask when
believe me
a straight rain is rare
I inhabit a history
in which the names
are anonymous
and I have slept
for many years
not all at once
of course
but midnights
have been commonplace
in my life –
long may they last
John Lyons
Praise these bones
Praise these bones
These my bones
that I contemplate each day
have served me well
have kept my flesh upright
all these years
have carried me to shores
far and wide
and always done me proud
Uncomplaining bones
that have never known fracture
that remain free from arthritis
and continue to support me
in all my endeavours
and so permit me to perform
my solemn democratic duties
as a fine upstanding citizen
these my dear dear old bones
that have lived in the poetic
shadow of Yeats and Walt Whitman
rock solid to the core
today I salute you
and warmly give thanks
John Lyons
On a summer’s day
On a summer’s day
Sat in the sun yesterday
we’re old friends
we go way back
I often say
I owe everything
to the sun
From my perch
I surveyed the garden
the deep green of the grass
the pink and red roses
the white and yellow blossom
on neighbouring bushes
I’ve grown accustomed to the calls
of birds who live locally
know some of their melodies
off by heart –
they owe everything
to the sun too
and like me
they go way back
It was a glorious summer’s day
and I just sat there
silently soaking it all up
musing upon the relativity
of all things and communing
with the relations
John Lyons
