(Groundwork, John Lyons (40 x 40, oil on canvas)
Marks on the surface
a splash of colour
here and there :
the mere suggestion
of a face
a serious expression
Lines are left suspended
just as time appears
to stagnate
What if the figure
could speak ?
What would it say
about the state
of the world ?
John Lyons
Land, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
Think of it thus
as a garden
as a small plot of land
the soil recently
turned in preparation
for a new crop
In the artist’s mind
the seeds may already
have been sown
Who knows what
may appear—a portrait
of a face once beloved
or a landscape remembered
with affection or
some other grand gesture
Earth colours
will be applied —
this too is the work
of sunlight
and what is born here
will live forever
John Lyons
The peasant family, Taras Schevchenko (1843)
Do not envy the rich man,
He knows nothing ever
Of friendship nor of love—
For those he must pay.
Do not envy the powerful,
They are obliged to bully ;
Do not envy the famous
For they know well enough
It’s not they who are loved
But their bitter fame
Which in order to please gushes
From the blood and tears of bitter pain.
And to the young they meet,
All is quiet and blissful
As in paradise—but see :
Something is really wrong.
Therefore, envy, no one ;
Look around—and you will never
Find paradise on this earth,
Nor, indeed, in heaven above.
Taras Schevchenko
(version by John Lyons)
Taras Schevchenko, (1814-1861) is Ukraine’s national poet and the personification of the Ukrainians’ thirst for liberty and independence. Schevchenko was born into serfdom, but in 1838, a group of artist friends purchased his freedom with the proceeds from a sale of their paintings. Schevchenko was an accomplished painter of landscapes and historical canvases
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Dance of light, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
She who dances
dances in the light
light dance against
the deep blue
in waves of light
a bold silhouette
against a barren
blue sky
In endless time
she dances
across the canvas
and fills the space
of my heart
her supple slender
arms moving
to the rhythm
of love
John Lyons
Mirage, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)
How to reconcile
the syllables of silence
with empty vessels
In my mind
I crossed a Sahara
endless dunes
endless silence
I a passenger
in the wilderness
parched by day
by night shivering
under the stars
love the oasis
of milk and honey
on the eager tongue
at daybreak
the heart calculates
the distance
the horizon
the never-ending
thread
John Lyons
Revised
Let nothing
but leaves
fall in
the forests
of Ukraine
nor in the cities
nor in the ports
Let no boast
of Russian blood
soil the soil
Let the wisdom
of trees prevail
Let peace stifle
war’s angry breath
Let nothing
but leaves
or rose petals
fall on Ukraine
John Lyons
Yellow door, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
Hope in doors
hope in gates
a yellow door
in a sea of blue
soft light of the sun
reverberating
on the surface
all paths lead
to her heart
on both sides
hearts depart
a single plane
a single hope
a single key
key to her heart
John Lyons
Blue door, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
If I told you
If I told
If I told you
would you like it
would you ?
A play not on words
but a play in words
In space words
In time words
If I found them
my feelings
If I found them
and if I told you
If I told
would you like it
would you ?
Played out
in rooms
sitting
dining
bed and
bathroom
One door leads
to another
and another
and another
all our lives
windows and doors
One door
on either side
entrance and exit
coming and going
first to last
If I told you
If I told
If I told you
would you like it
would you ?
John Lyons
(revised)
Green mountain, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
What vanity to imagine
I can give you everything, love and happiness,
itineraries, music, toys.
It’s true this is how it is:
all I have, I give to you, it’s true,
but all I have is not enough for you
just as it’s not enough for you to give me
all you have.
So we’ll never be
the perfect couple, the picture postcard,
if we’re unable to accept
that only in arithmetic
does one plus one make two.
Scribbled on a scrap of paper
that merely says:
You were always my mirror,
What I mean is, I had to look at you to see myself.
And this fragment:
The slow machine of disaffection
the gears of reflux
bodies that abandon the pillows,
the sheets the kisses
and standing before the mirror each one
self-questioning
no longer facing each other
no longer naked for each other
I no longer love you,
my love.
Julio Cortázar
(translation by John Lyons)
Night dance, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)
After hours
light fading
lone dancer
bounds across
the stage
Carnival masquerade
in a Venetian palace
Slow drift of time
through cloistered
canals : lovers cross
the Bridge of Sighs
Que será será
Que será será
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 