poetry

Lovedust

irlandesuk poetry , , ,

Lovedust

Molecules of dust
         tiny floating particles
specs of nanodust organized
         and clustered
in ever greater complexes
         sidereal dust driven
on boundless waves of energy
         through an apparent
cosmic emptiness
         stardust that next appears
in the full-throated song of the robin
         and the nightingale
in all that flowers in woodlands
         and in our gardens
the dust of stars
         transformed into words
on the page
         and in our ear
that is present
         in every gesture
in every rhythm
         the entire universe
an expression of itself
         call it purpose
call it direction
         call it lovedust

John Lyons

Pandemonium

irlandesuk poetry

Pandemonium

A fierce wind
         caught in the mirror
a frenzy of branches
         lashing out
on this wild night
         a moon almost full
almost avuncular
         in that black sky

I imagine the stars
         going out one by one
and wonder
         who could possibly
be turning them off
          Desire is of the body
and of the mind
         a soothing narrative
except when in conflict
         one against the other

She brought daffodils
         a bouquet of sunlight
and yet in the darkness
         the only light I could see
was there in her eyes
         Someone on the street
was laughing to himself
         such a lonely sound
it seemed to me

The final words
         Charles I muttered
under his breath
         I have no head
for history
         On a night I dreamt
I could not sleep
         I dreamt I slept

John Lyons

Birth

irlandesuk poetry

Birth

Think of the white orchid
         a new flower about to burst
out of the green bud
         as though its petals were wings
to unfold and take flight
         in the imagination
to add one fresh tiny detail
         to the plant and to the room
where it stands
         a newborn thing of beauty
an announcement
         and how our lives
are full of lives
         everywhere teeming
with fresh new life
         and so much life
within life
         within life

John Lyons

Remembering my father

irlandesuk poetry

Remembering my father

All these years
         that you have been gone
your roses have continued to grow
         I do not need to close my eyes
to see you clearly
         your own blue eyes
that retained a shade of sadness
         even when you smiled
that fleeting smile of yours
         from which an ever so slight
hint of pain was never absent
         as though it somehow
pained you to smile
         I remember your creative hands
with which you worked the clay
         and which over the years
became discoloured
         the patches caused by the leakage
of red blood cells into the skin
         I remember the compulsion
with which you constantly
         had to clear your throat
and I remember your silence
         your great love of silence
the silence of which
         you could never get enough
I remember you sitting there
         in your never-ending silence

John Lyons

 

New day

irlandesuk poetry

New day

Out of the earth
         new leaf
new life
         new love
fresh hope
         that springs
from the light
         reflected in the light
of her eyes
         petal by petal
the day builds
         the rose and
the daffodil
         unadorned beauty
of the skyblue day
         and everywhere
the pulse of creation
         beats as it builds
a world upon world
         cell by cell
word by word
         fingers impelled
to caress the flesh
         two hearts that lie
beneath the shade
         of oak and ash
that sip from
         a foaming glass
that bathe
         by the cool sea
that now and again
         dip into time as though
it were a choice
         but never a drudge
time expressed
         in growth
in abundance
         soft-fruited time
so dear to the palate
         everlasting time

John Lyons

The mind runs on

irlandesuk poetry

The mind runs on

Dust down the truth
         see how it has suffered
over the years
         how it has been creased
and scuffed and abused
         on the tongues of vicious
loathsome charlatans

the mind runs on and on
         to birds and bees and butterflies
and to the taste of fresh honey
         that drips from the mouth
and the elixir of love

leave the past where it lies
         undisturbed
no good can come from it
         no further good
from the ash of embers
         cold as the coldest stone

her face in the light
         all the perfection I need
one loving moment
         hatched from another
framed in the memory
         there is all there is

two black crows
         on the live rail
of the railway track
         share a crust of bread
broken in their beaks
         life is survival
so too love
         love alone

John Lyons

Remembrance Sunday

irlandesuk poetry

Remembrance Sunday

What is it that flows
         onwards and out to the sea
the river swollen
         by the evening rains
so that it rises
         to barely a metre
below the jetty
         and a light wind
ruffles its surface
         where white gulls
bob up and down
         and though the sky
is winter grey
         the day itself is mild
and what a river needs
         is volume and pace and power
and a clear sense of direction
         and it certainly has that
on this solemn November day
         on which the grave dead
of the two World Wars
         are remembered

and I think of her voice
         its soft singing tone
the gentle rise and fall
         of her graceful words
live on her lips
         her voice that is
so often within me
         and how the torrent of love
flows passionately
         to and fro
and back and forth
         from one to another
in the give and take of it all
         and of the happiness
that words can bring
         the warp and woof
that binds the narrative
         just as two bodies
are intimately joined
         in all honour

John Lyons

Origins

irlandesuk poetry ,

Origins

Dust that coalesces
         monomers and polymers
the primordial soup
         out of which life emerged
and with it
         the possibility of love
all driven by energies
         from the sun
and I think of you
         in your constituents
in your history
         in your childhood
and adolescence
         in your maternal role
in the journey of time
         through the maturing years
and in all your displacements
         and in all the challenges
that you have faced
         and the multitude of factors
that have brought you
         so close to me
and so dear to my heart
         so that I feel your flesh
to be my own
         your blood to be
the blood that courses
         through my veins
your kiss to be ours
         your love to be us

At first there was a darkness
         deeper than the deepest night
a cosmic nothingness
         until all hell was let loose
Such was our origin
         and so I think of you
as a pure body of light
         illuminating my life

John Lyons

Nightfall

irlandesuk poetry

Nightfall

Evening descends
         to extinguish the light
and a desolate sky
         weighs on my shoulders
Why is the past
         so unforgiving
the present so pitiless
         : was this the day
that love left on tiptoe
         my affections disdained
my kiss turned away ?
         I now carry my heart
in my pocket
         ragged and spent

We loved one day
         at a time
and for a time
         it was good
until the hand
         was dropped
Love may return
         sooner rather
than later but
         as for my breath
I will not hold it
         or I may die

John Lyons

Perhaps

irlandesuk poetry

Perhaps

A rainbow cannot be broken
         nor a smile : perhaps
there is another house
         where someone waits for me
with a garden filled with trees
         and a long sloping lawn
and in the centre a bed of roses
         in full bloom and fruit hanging
on some of the trees
         cherry and peach and plum
and tart Bramley apple
         and a sky filled with blue and swallows
and all the scents of summer
         I remember those who once lived there
long since departed
         now nothing more than names
and I remember that day
         we lay on the grass
and I ran my fingers through her hair
         the hair that slipped through my fingers
and how history shows no remorse
         Perhaps there is still
another garden
         where someone waits for me
and a coat for me to wear
         of fine cloth and many colours
that the sunlight will adore
         and perhaps there will be a day
when she says that she loves me
         and it will be true

John Lyons