Time threads its way

Time threads its way
           through the rain
down into the gutter
           down into the earth
the gentle drizzle of time
           and I lie here thinking of her
far away now
           but remembering the closeness
the soft warmth of her body
           the beauty of her composure
the sheer energy of her existence
           everything that drew me to her

As galaxies roll around the universe
           as stars are born and others die
as fresh shoots of life appear
           all around me I pine for her
hating her absence and the silence
           with which she has filled
my days and nights
           There was an intensity
to what we shared
           with all the simplicity
of passion – and I know
           that it can never die
And so I wait for her
           to turn again – to return
to place her heart
           into my hands once more

John Lyons

Sunday silence

Overnight
           a heavy frost
unexpected
           though still the birds
woke me
           with their spring song

how strongly their instincts
           are attuned to shifts
in the quality of light
           how anxious they are
to rehearse
           their love calls

Overnight
           you were a thought
in my head
           and I awoke
with memory of you
           obstinate in its occupation
of my mind
           my heart

In the Sunday silence
           I sip coffee
alone for all the world
           and recall the ritual
we shared 
          our calm and loving conversation
over the first coffee
           of the day

John Lyons

Storm of colour

A working body
      a body that works
a body of work
      work of the body
a body of words
      words of the body

the embodiment
      of beauty
encased in words
      of bold beauty
a casket of jewels
      sounding sense
and emotion
      makes language
rise above signs
      expression
in delicate metrical
      dance steps
heartfelt
      body of breath

John Lyons

Ancestors

we who emerged
           from the sea
from tall forest trees
           from damp caves
are but shadows
           hands daubed
in red ochre
           on the walls
flames dance
           as the flesh roasts

we have hunted
           we have gathered
we made love
           now we have died

John Lyons

The colour of emotion

These are my feelings
            a redness and a blackness
and a whiteness and a blueness
            randomly organised
into a provisional chaos
            that will change with time
as the pain passes
            as the paint cures
as the oils dry
            and the sadness drains
and there is peace once again
            in my heart

John Lyons

Maritime matters

The hypnotic sound of the sea
            breaking on the shore
the hydraulic power of the waves
            that race in and appear to trip
and crash down on the shingle
            the rasp as the waters retreat
the white surf lacing the beach
            Something primeval within us
nostalgia for the ocean depths
            from which we emerged
and for a simpler form of life
            for that prime motility
that brings us to where
            we are today

The sea runs in our veins
            with all the essential salts
star warmth marine blood
            stoking the complexities
of human relations
            the come and go upon dry land
She loves me she loves me not
            another shore another sea
there is always another
            another and another

John Lyons