art

Love’s artery

irlandesuk art, poetry

inferno
           Inferno, John Lyons (paper collage)

Let’s describe this
       as a cauldron of colour
light and energy
       bubbling away
soft pinks and blood reds
       with dark clouds
gathering at the rear
       the ragged edges
of torn paper laid
       on a bed of white card
one day collaged
       upon another and so
the picture builds up
       could be a fiery heaven
or an icy hell
       a state of mind
or simply an outburst
       of activity

But where
       you may ask
are the people ?
       where is there
anything familiar ?
       it’s all feeling
but feeling for what ?
       a life consumed
as a smokeless fuel
       moments of anger
moments of passion
       arterial moments of love

John Lyons

The lie of the land

irlandesuk art, poetry

noirjean
         The lie of the land, John Lyons (9 x 13 cm collage)

This is what it’s like
       to be caught
in the warp and weft
       of being
the fabric of our existence

We have needs
       beyond our means
dreams that may be
       dashed
and we fear above all
       the loss of love

Our lives are filled
       with equipment and devices –
so many things we no longer
       know how to do for ourselves
our homes have become
       territories which we guard
with our lives
       we have become investments
and pander to so many idols
       blinding ourselves
to the work of angels
       who move constantly among us

Perfection is there
       in the webs of spiders
in nature’s silk
       in the beauty of roses
or the soaring flight
       of sparrowhawks

But there are no vacancies
       in the natural world
and none need apply
       creation has its work to do
its solar systems to build
       while we are tasked
with something quite simple
       merely to love and
to allow ourselves
       to be loved

John Lyons

Gateway to love

irlandesuk art, poetry

gate
        Gateway to love, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

Sometimes the best poetry
       for the moment is composed
of silence : just as sparrows
       do not sing all day long
a pause a respite a lull
       is always welcome
rather than
       a glut or an excess

Broad margins
       of white space
a huge empty sky
       blue by all accounts
waves of transparent air
       shifting imperceptibly
a kind of nothingness
       of fulfilment

What I want to tell you
       is. . .
but it can wait
       just allow me to be
the one beside you
       basking in your beauty
loving you wordlessly without
       so much as a sigh

John Lyons

The passing of flowers

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

dressed

There is no aim
       to clean cut flowers –
to be frank they are
       an unnecessary need
We place them
       upon pedestals
we water them
       with affection
we say we love them
       we admire them
from all angles
       they centre our rooms
and light up the hours
       of our lives that are
themselves mere petals : and
       when their stems droop
and their blooms
       fall apart we mourn
their passing just as
       we mourn the passing
of our loves and all things that
       must necessarily pass

John Lyons

True colours

irlandesuk art, poetry

gate adjust

         Adjustment, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

These birds too
       know that it’s September
they also have their calendars
       and live from season to season
acting in accordance
       with the earth’s mood

They see the leaves falling
       they see dew on the grass
at first light and they observe
       the behaviour of squirrels
harvesting for the winter ahead
       and they sense
in the silence in the skies
       as summer visitors depart
to warmer climes
       that life will shortly form
a tighter fist
       and that some but not all
will soon struggle to survive –
       they know more than we know

John Lyons

Edited from earlier today

Just words

irlandesuk art, poetry

Face

From this distance in time
         that rearward vision
as life unravels
         leaf after autumn leaf
falling through the drizzle
         all those moments captured
in wordy recollections
         the winnowing wind
of memory
         me picking my way
through the text
         of my past

Where would I be
         without those words
when love was in flames
         A world unwoven
only to be threaded
         together again
poetry to exalt
         the present and the real
built on the bridge
         of what went before

John Lyons

Universe with a light touch

irlandesuk art, poetry

globe 2

    Universe, John Lyons (oil on wood)

A universe with a light touch
all that power all that energy

and still the lightest of touches
time and distance and light

and temperature and in the midst
a light touch gentle and delicate

lips that brush a forehead
or a finger that caresses a cheek

fire and destruction and fault lines
that tear the earth apart and

all the time birth to replace death
and love that binds hearts forever

John Lyons

Squirrel takes a turn

irlandesuk art, poetry

aimless 2

You would think
       that that squirrel
that spritely rodent
       with its grey bushy tail
was in training
       for something

All morning
       it has been running
back and forth
       along the rim
of the garden fence
       making a great show
of its enviable sense
       of balance : freezing
from time to time
       in quintessential poses
before leaping forward
       with acrobatic ease

Winter is approaching
       already the sun has dipped
the first frosts are days away
       the squirrel will have its sport
before summer utters
       its last call

John Lyons

What goes around

irlandesuk art, poetry

Erin

The season will soon
       be upon us again
of Vacherin Mont d’Or
       the winter cheese
in the round pine box
       sumptuously
unpasteurised
       deliciously baked

Think of the hillsides
       where the cows graze
where the pine trees grow
       and the wooden disks
from the base and the lid
       which I decorate
year after year
       to celebrate the force
of nature and the power
       of the imagination

John Lyons