Out of Eden, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
Out of Eden
there flowed two rivers
through fields of corn
and barley and rye
and people gathered on the banks
their eyes fixed upon
the shifting waters
and the sunlight
that danced on the surface
: this is where
our ancestors learned
the shape of love
and where they chose
their colours
John Lyons
Eden – a work in progress, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
Here is land
laid on canvas
an Eden
of the imagination
out of which
two rivers flow
Shapes formed
from strokes
of the brush
using colours
out of the earth
here is light
and time
to contemplate
the distance
we have come
since our birth
all that we have seen
all that we have felt
all that we have been
The oils have yet to dry
and when they do
some will be toned down
others will be intensified
here is Eden
a work in progress
like us all
all who love
John Lyons
On black, John Lyons (10 x 12 in, oil on canvas)
Out of the darkness
comes a cascade
of colour
of light
of love
here where words
flow in streams
all the energy
of the universe
finds expression
art with its visual
voice and poetry
with its glowing
sequences of breath
heat and passion
a knife taken
to the cold canvas
out of it comes faith
and the hope too
that our lives
may be worth
remembering
forever
John Lyons
Tiny dancer, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
Tiny dancer
a shape that shifts
effortlessly
through the air
Over land or sea
a silhouette gliding
through space
The exuberance
of movement
to time and yet
timeless
We hear the music
in our imagination
the dancer advances
in leaps and bounds
under desert blue skies
All is revealed
where masks are worn
where love never tires
and faith is never lost
John Lyons
Gestation, John Lyons (50 x 70 cm, oil on canvas)
This is how it begins
less an idea than an embryo
what it is and what it will be
who knows ?
What colours and shapes and textures
remain to be seen
As it stands
the easy stage is complete
where anything can go right
because there’s everything
to play for : the black mixed
with two shades of blue
the cadmium yellow cut
with a little burnt umber
I now need to hold back
to listen to the canvas
to turn it this way and that
scrutinise it
from every angle for days
or even weeks on end
before further decisions
are taken
In time it’ll tell me
what it wants to express
and I trust
as always
that it’ll keep me
in the frame
Can one fall in love
with cadmium yellow
or the cadmium red
that is currently absent
making the heart
grow fonder ?
Playful or serious
there’ll be a message
but it’ll string me along
keep me on my toes
until it finally decides
to reveal all
John Lyons
Bones that yearn
for other bones
out of the earth
into the earth
coffee grounds
and yellow cadmium
eyes turning
one toward the other
only love heals
the scars left
by love
winsome
her hazel eyes
her lips
a celebration
love woven
on the loom
of her life
bones
and the echo
of other bones
long gone
Venus sidles up
to the moon
and for a brief
moment
it illuminates
their love
their bodies turning
in unison
time will one day
sweep them away
for ever conjoined
their dust
their bones
laid to rest
for a single
eternity
John Lyons
Lovers, John Lyons (50 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)
An aerial view
of the lie
of the land
lovers locking
into a kiss
a port of call
a docking
one delicately
poised above
another
a passage
through time
a navigation
of narrow straits
John Lyons
Rainfall, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)
The rain perhaps
the rain as it used to rain
in my childhood
slow steady rain
an ablution of the earth
the damp air heavy
with the scent of soil
The rain perhaps
tiny droplets of memory
falling through the universe
and my mind wanders
to far forgotten places
and the faces
that I knew there
The rain perhaps
when we first built a shelter
and called it love
and we huddled there
together tightly and listened
to the rain and wind
and were content
The rain perhaps
that is neither a beginning
nor an end in itself
as though I had
always known you
always wanted you
forever in my life
John Lyons
Flowers, John Lyons (oil on wood)
Dagwood dogwood
whipple-tree
these are but names
conferred over time
We know it by its fruit
by its berries
by its blossom
by its simple
untoothed leaves
The larvae of butterflies
and the engrailed
and emperor moths
feed on it
quail devour its red seeds
a tea made from its bark
can treat pain and fevers
From dogwood
to dogberries
to skull tree
these are but words
fit for poetry
John Lyons
Landshape 2, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)
A painter poet
struggles to convey
the lie of the land
in which certain shapes
dominate and others
are pushed
into the background
I know that I have been here
but can’t remember when
I have dreamt of snow
on the hills and triangles
that rose up beyond the lakes
I have walked for miles
as I slept and passed
through so many doors
What I searched for
was breath and pulse
a warmth and a gentleness
a softness of being
a firmness of ground
beneath my feet
green pastures
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 