Through an open skylight
sycamore seeds helicopter down
into my living space
In Egyptian mythology
the sacred sycamore in which
the goddess Hathor perched
when she created
the irrepressible world
As children we’d gather these seeds
and cast them high into the wind
and watch as they spiralled
back to the ground
back to the earth
from which they sprang
John Lyons
Wallace refers to the intelligence of trees
the famed tree of knowledge is related
the thing that grows organically
and the metaphors that we may apply
the roots that reach so deep into the earth
the branches that reach constantly for the sky
the leaves that burst from buds in spring
that bring delight in the summer until
in the autumn they fall as all things fall
the rings of age that mark the wood
the gnarled bark of ancient specimens
the shade under which lovers lounge
the stillness of time until the wind rises
John Lyons
What is love if not
a place of kindness
a time and a place
a disposition to care
one for another
not a hard silent
inhospitable terrain
or a sour tongue
Is it too much
to ask for clarity of the heart
to cut through the myths
and fantasies
how else shall we know
the sheep from the wolves
There is virtue too in love
that speaks only of the truth
seeks only to give of itself
recognises the sanctity
of the kiss and the sacredness
of the consensual bond
John Lyons
Say it
it’s a glorious autumn day
to be sitting by the river
at Erith with the tide out
and the mudflats revealed
and in the distance
a white sailing boat
leaning to starboard
and along the pier
anglers are casting their flies
and children are playing
on their scooters
a vast blue sky
with white clouds
receding into the distance
and though she is absent
and I miss her
I still carry her in my heart
and I’m good and at peace
and hope she is too
John Lyons
What will they say of us :
that our days were numbered
that we counted our steps
in Oxford Cambridge Somerset Bath
and the minutes the hours the days
when love was so precious
and time was no impediment
They’ll say that we took much pleasure
together and saw and heard and did
so much side by side that we seemed
inseparable until the bitter end
John Lyons
Blood thicker than
the waters we crossed
to get to Shoreditch
or to St Katharine’s Dock
past Traitor’s Gate
along Kingsland Road
to eat at Vietnam
duck on a platter
and mango salad
the stuff of memories
and wondering now
what it all meant
and why it was
so soon forgotten
a mystery written
in our dust
John Lyons
What will they say of us ?
that their days were numbered
that they counted their steps
in Paris Venice Berlin Budapest
and the minutes the hours the days
when love was so precious
and time was no impediment
They will say that much pleasure
was taken together and that so much
was seen and heard and done
side by side that they seemed
inseparable until the bitter end
John Lyons
A scripted universe
of energy and matter
and words
a cosmic narrative
driven by processes
that began with a single event
that is still unfolding
underpinned by a language
that speaks to us
from the very origins of time
a language that we have translated
into our own necessary tongues
but a unique story
of indivisible creation
a language that gives us
the rose in all its beauty
that gives us love
in all its tenderness
and an articulate constantly
innovating expansive existence
that brings both change
and permanence
because all art outlives life
as love does too
John Lyons
I need more sky
I need it blue and wide
and unencumbered
by towering steel and glass
I need clear skies at night
so that I can track the stars
in which my destiny
is written
I need more sky
into which I can propel
my dreams and figure out
a way to turn back the head
of the woman I love
and I need more birds
to populate my skies
and remind me
of the lightness of being
and the ease of movement
from one place to another
the exhilaration of flight
I need more sky
and less dusty roads
that merely carry me away
from the one I love
less long dry roads
that snake out
into the wilderness
never to return
I need all the welcoming sky
I can get and under that sky
I need her to tell me
that I’m forgiven
for all the things I never did
for all the words I might have said
for all the times I might have slipped and fell
and for all the times
John Lyons
Tremendous exhibition of Dylan’s drawings accompanying handwritten lyrics to many of his best known songs. At the Halcyon Gallery, New Bond Street until 30 November 2018. Don’t miss it!
johnjosephlyons 