Secrets of the heart
What she whispers
into my ear
what I whisper
into hers
love intensified
by word of mouth
JohnLyons
Secrets of the heart
art
A love bouquet
A love bouquet
The mere suggestion
will suffice
when it comes
to art
the form
inseparable
from the content
shapes we carry
in the memory
things associated
with multiple purposes
the detailing
of the expression
of feelings
a simple bouquet
for my love
John Lyons
Corrected text
Remembering Tralee
Remembering Tralee
My mother was born
in the shadow of mountains
her old bones long since
laid to rest
I know the place
the house the houses
where she was a girl
I know the school
I know the shoreline
where she would go
in the summer to bathe
and walk along the beach
My bones
out of her bones
have grown old too
but my muscles retain
their youthful vigour
I know many things
and yet am ignorant
of so much more
Perhaps I long to return
to that place
in the shadow of mountains
where calm waters
run down to the sea
Perhaps is a word
I have used too often
in my life perhaps
John Lyons
Keeping it simple
Keeping it simple
Simple I said
whenever you love me
it goes straight to the heart
I need all things
less than love
I want all things
less than love
material physical love
your finger brushing my lips
gently
your eyes
looking lovingly
into mine
all other purposes
are less than love
there is
no greater reason
no greater sense
than love
John Lyons
Good care of souls
Good care of souls
Good care of souls
in the hands
of the poet
in the words
Let us terminate
our season in hell
and go forth
in joy and charity
Let us dispel
those mists
that keep us
from seeing
what is
before our eyes
In order to be one
we must first separate
so as to conjoin
in love’s singularity
A cloud
has enveloped my days
but with a vengeance
the sun will return
and with it spring
with all its blossom
and blithe airs
and you will shine
in all your inexhaustible
beauty
John Lyons
Why would I not ?
Why would I not ?
Of course I take it personally
whether you love me or not
whether you betray me or not
whether you fail me
or fail to understand me or not
I bear the soul of a private man
ploughing by day the furrows
of city streets in which squirrels
run rampant and gold is amassed
in steely towers of greed
So I live and die for words
for unsolicited acts of tenderness
for the beauty of light on water
for the delicacy of moonlight
that pierces the night sky
Of course I take our lives seriously
your life and mine : and tell me
why would I not ?
John Lyons
The primeval sea
The primeval sea
The primeval sea
awash with colour
the underbelly
of creation
whence all life
whence all love
See how the light
shimmers
on the shifting surface
restless ocean
restless life
colours that coalesce
wave upon wave
here where the sun
sets and rises
and where the surf
pounds on the shore
so mimicking
the passionate pant
of our human breath
John Lyons
Reading the coffee grounds
Reading the coffee grounds
A fine autumn day
with a brisk breeze
and magpies
ten of them
playing catch me if you can
flying under and over
the garden table and chairs
There are dandelions in the grass
and a few late blossoms
in the bushes—
most of the berries
have been eaten
and I’m sitting here
alternately
looking out of the window and staring
into the empty depths
of my morning coffee mug
Nothing there now
but the dried grounds
and I try to read the pattern
traces of light appearing
out of a dark cloud
She loves me
she loves me not
she loves me
I’ll know
soon enough
that’s for sure
John Lyons
Revised text.
Found art, at the bottom of my cup!
A nosegay for my love
A nosegay for my love
a posy
a spray
a bunch
a bouquet
art
of the moment
a cast-off
on the lid
of a wooden box
a throwaway
dashed off
with scant attention
to detail
an action painting
an act of love
to render a thought
or rather
a feeling
an engagement
with the medium
flowers that emerge
out of nothing
ephemeral
merely to state
that love
is the part of us
that never dies
John Lyons
In an essay entitled, A process of painting, Robert Motherwell wrote : “A painting is not a picture of something in front of your eyes—a model, say, primarily. It is an attack on the medium which then comes to “mean” something.”
Ten wise virgins
Ten wise virgins
A room with a view
a dark room into which
light streams
through an open window
a table laid for dinner
silver service and fine porcelain
a room in which much human dust
has settled
Soon host and guests will enter
words will be moved around
chairs scraped on the floor
there will be laughter
and few moments of silence
amid the clink of cutlery on plates
Sometimes there is
a definite purpose
as though the universe
is going places
sometimes we all need
to take a break
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 