art

The unkempt garden

irlandesuk art, poetry
spears
The unkempt garden, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

The unkempt garden

After the long dry spell
          the grass is threadbare
covered in tall coarse weeds
          and towering dandelions
: a couple of chairs
          that were overturned
in the fierce storm
          have yet to be righted

The word that comes to mind
          is neglect or abandonment
although it’s not as though
          nobody cares
just that nature appears to be
          one step ahead of the neighbour
who has assumed responsibility
          for the garden

Frankly he’s getting on in years
          so I don’t blame him
in fact I blame no one
          that’s just the way it is
plant life is so rampant
          under these climate conditions
it poses a real problem but I trust
          it will all work out in the end

John Lyons

Liquidities

irlandesuk art, poetry
Figures 2

Interim, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Liquidities

Life and its liquidities
          the ebb and flow
the figures that come and go
          and how one thing
leads to another
          and the dry wit of words
amid the steel stone and glass
          structures that cement
our minds to the ground
          so that life becomes abstract
and all the while
          as the climate heats
the earth cools
          and pockets of distress
spread like wildfire
          and time turns to December
frost thick in the fields
          and the night sky
a fretwork of stars
          and a moon that beams
misfortune upon those detached
          from the pulse of love

John Lyons

 

Shooting the breeze

irlandesuk art, poetry
Figures_detail
Liquid figures, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Shooting the breeze

A body of thoughts and feelings
          fed by the blood of sunlight
a body that moves erratically
          along a predetermined path
a body that knows when to stop
          to admire a rose or to stroke a dog

a body given up to the intensities
          of work and the leisure of love
one that lives in defiance
          of the seasons and dreams only
of moonlight and a warm bed
          in which to lie  A body

stripped of all ambition
          other than to breathe
the wholesome country air
          and count the beats of its heart

John Lyons

Magnetic resonance

irlandesuk art, poetry
magnetic resonance
Magnetic resonance, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Magnetic resonance

Vascular life
           with its niggling
day-to-day setbacks
           the rough taken
with the smooth
           dismissed perhaps
as time’s tantrums
           life calling death’s bluff

and in the garden
           the wheelbarrow laden
with fresh turf
           a new lawn to be laid
and the wind picks up
           and autumn is upon us
with its August lights
           that draw in the moths

winter preparations
           for the season of silence
the months straddled
           by ice and snow
and a world-weariness
           the long bed of the river
silting as it snakes
           into the empty sea

and love that clings
           to pearls of naked flesh
that longs for the warmth
           of word-wisdom and
gentility on the tongue
           a lamp burning through
the long nights
           the random days
that consecrate love’s
           tender traffic

John Lyons

As straight as a die ?

irlandesuk art, poetry
Colourful_imperfections.jpg
Colourful Imperfections, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

As straight as a die ?

I don’t think so
      in the rough and tumble
with all the ups and downs
      mistakes get made
and I take full
      : fact

I apologise
      but nobody’s perfect
so throw a stone
      if you dare
this is merely
      an expression
of my colourful
      imperfections

John Lyons

Time’s petty pace

irlandesuk art, poetry , ,
Heredia_partil view
Stained glass, (oil on canvas)

Time’s petty pace

Tomorrow and tomorrow
           etched in the mind
the word that appeared nightly
           above that building
on the corner
           of Mariahilferstrasse

Neon strips
           letter by letter
illuminating the word
           until complete
and so it remains
           for a minute or so
before vanishing
           into the dense darkness
of the Hapsburg capital
           only to repeat

At times
           thick white cloud
hangs from the horns
           of the moon

Tomorrow and tomorrow
           time creeps its petty pace
until first light of day
           and the deed is done

John Lyons

The shape of time

irlandesuk art, poetry ,
Art of Painting
The Art of Painting, Vermeer

The shape of time

 Pockets of time
         caught in art
trapped under pigment
         line and colour
from a different age :
         after the cave came canvas
but it’s the same process
         time dedicated
to capturing time
         a succession of moments
or of perceptions
         or of intuitions
or simply of actions
         but all shaped
thoughts feelings
         observations
and there’s
         a single narrative
running through it all
         this is what it is
to be human
         to be alive
or at least
         an aspect of it

John Lyons

Night invention

irlandesuk art, poetry
thorns
Thorns 2

Night invention

The darkness is ours
in which I hand to you
you hand me back
all the love

water spreads
through the earth
reaches into
the root of being

in the darkness
as mirrors rest
your secret voice
is revealed

through the blinds
a moon laced with cloud
on white linen
the thorns are removed

one by one
there is no blood
to stain
no tears to dry
your mouth

is an abyss
into which
I willingly fall
and sleep comes
gently

John Lyons

Eight thorny lines

irlandesuk art, poetry
thorns_2.jpg
Thorns

Eight thorny lines

How soon the petals fall
how soon dawn turns to dusk

how soon this life is over
and all things turn to dust

and memories are piecemeal
and time consumes them all

till love is all that’s left us
that love in which we trust

John Lyons