Riddle
How
many
words
does
it
take
to
change
your
life
forever
?
John Lyons
poetry
For Sophia on your wedding day
For Sophia on your wedding day
You arrived in a blast of winter ice
And snow flurries
The church clock chimed midnight
Shortly after your first cry
Tuesday’s child is full of grace
I whispered and so you were.
You stared at me as if to say
I know you
I have heard your voice
I have lain beneath your
Beating heart
I have felt your
Love even before I
Became me.
Now you are mine and
I am yours for ever
You grow into
This impossibly beautiful
Creature and I know
That one day your loving
Trusting gaze will light
On another.
We are at that place today
And as I watch you shimmer
And sparkle among the
Flowers and candles
Within this sacred place
I will say a silent thank you
For all that has been and
Is yet to come.
Molly Rosenberg
29 April 2017
Time for words
The poem below is based on a reading of the works of the Saint Lucian poet, Derek Walcott (1930-2017), winner of the 1992 Nobel Prize in Literature.
Time for words
What is time
in the context of universe
and what is verse
the unified voice of poetry
but an opportunity
to live love explicitly
under the star-speckled sky
how the river wearies
slows
grows sluggish
deposits silt on its bed
is swallowed within
the immense depths
of the rapacious sea
Always time and the river
and clusters of lovers
clinging to each other
in the darkness
and in the light
and in the forest
the heavy seas of foliage
tossing in the storm winds
the air thick with pollen
and occasional blossom
and sweeping skirts of rain
penetrating the soil
as day bleeds into night
the petty pace that creeps
and the poetry of it all
and the words that bind
our lives together
so that we sail through time
on a raft of significant sense
abrupt angels riding
the turbulence of our dreams
and here and there in our wake
the signatures of love
and intermittent accounts of accurate distress
when we find ourselves walled in
by the architectures of isolation
Time
the slow drip drip of words
the slow exhalation of breath
time that is our birth and our death
John Lyons
Thomas
Thomas
I shall never
forget
his definition
of friendship
A friend
is someone
who doesn’t
ask too many
questions
John Lyons
Thursday
Thursday
Not much happens on a Thursday
and as today is Thursday
I’m not expecting too much to happen
same old grey sky same old sun
struggling to make its presence felt
I look at this way :
perhaps Thursday is the day
that the stars change gear
in preparation for Friday
when everything seems to happen
On Fridays we all seem to enter
a new phase in which our bodies
and our minds are driven
by a rogue moon that just wants
to party all weekend long
There are deeper questions
regarding infinity and mortality
the definition of truth and beauty
and the importance of love in our lives
but today is Thursday
and to be quite honest
I haven’t the heart to go deep
John Lyons
Cold snap
Cold snap
So today it’s another cold snap
Just when I thought I could
put away the woollens and settle
into my summer wardrobe
I notice that the grey clouds
are moving down from the north
and through another window
I can see that the bushes are all
shivering and it’s strangely silent
in the garden as though the birds
are having a lie-in on account
of the low temperatures
I do love it when the sun is out
and I do miss it when
it’s nowhere to be seen
Of course we’re related
and there’s not a tissue in my body
that has not been created
by the transformation
of energies from the sun :
to say we’re practically family
would be no exaggeration at all
John Lyons
Petal petulance
Petal petulance
Pink and lilac tulips
in a tall glass vase
an unerring beauty
that will fade and droop
as the days pass
as the hours expire
to think that in the heavens
there are no wise stars
that in this universe
so full of eyes
the world will relapse
that love and tenderness
may be depleted
by tides of naked sorrow
compassion for others
withered in the cruel reign
of blind greed and contempt
life cheapened and tainted
by the dark dissolving
human heart
Roses red and white
that draw blood on the thorn
fragrant flames of sunshine
snipped from the bed of life
John Lyons
Plus ça change
Plus ça change
Being lost for words
and being speechless
is not the same
nothing is ever the same
things are or they are not
but they’re never the same
similes are absurd
as no one thing
is like another
Gertrude Stein taught us
that not even repetitions
are the same
a rose is a rose is a rose
is an equilateral triangle
of competing energies
each rose qualifying
the other ones
one after another
When Elaine de Kooning
portrayed Frank O’Hara
standing in her studio
first she painted
the structure of the face
above the tall lean body
and when she had finished
she wiped out the face
so that the portrait
would more closely
resemble the subject
the portrait and the subject
were not the same
nothing is ever the same
John Lyons
Lyric
Lyric
These are the candles we light
day after day
and how brightly they shine
night after night
these are the moments
of illumination in our lives
and how they glow
day after day
night after night
this is the life we live
day after day
night after night
this is the love
that lights up our lives
day after day
night after night
John Lyons
London marathon
London marathon
Thousands of men
and women and children
crossing a bridge
all ages all shapes all sizes
all faiths all creeds
every denomination
and of every ability
crossing a single bridge
one end to the other
of a finite bridge
the clump of their feet
on the boards of the bridge
and on the sidelines
thousands urging them on
the air thick with their
cheers and their applause
life from one end
to the other
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 