Flowers, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)
All the flowers
in the world
could not save
our love
John Lyons
poetry
Love among the graves
Tulips, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)
That Easter she brought flowers
blood-red tulips from Amsterdam
On a bench in Margravine
they sat and ate fresh doughnuts
they watched the squirrels at play
among the tumbledown gravestones
Life tasted sweet and good on the palate
and love was still a promise to be kept
John Lyons
Love in the mix
Such is the texture of life
chiaroscoro on the palate
the rough with the smooth
shapes drawn from nature
and chance the greatest
of all artists – sole capable
of the happy accident
a cascade of coloratura
and so we met and
there was love in the mix
a relationship constructed
out of coffee and much more
a sharing of bodies and of hours
that built destinations
into our days and cut paths
through the urban jungle
This disk of light and dark
a flavour of the times
her cup never less
than half full and all served
with a warm kiss – the taste
indelible on my lips
John Lyons
Love’s conumdrum
Dregs, John Lyons
Beauty lurks
in all things
ready to beguile
to entrance
to win a heart
to provoke a sigh
beauty that
so truly lies
to the eye
of the beholder
Here my fortunes
in love or life
all too easy
to be read
in the coffee cup
to me remained
a mystery
to others
an open book
John Lyons
Helpless love
Grapevine, John Lyons
What shall I do
with this absurdity
this universe in which
silence and stillness
simply do not exist
I think of whispered words
the tightened bow of her beauty
the ships on the shores of Troy
the blazing battlements
and a heart under siege
The rod and fly that I handled
so poorly as a boy when I fished
the streams around Thomastown
days long forgotten dearly remembered
What shall I do with this absurdity
the mule that I rode or the horse
or the donkey or a day at the fair
riding the carrousel with scarcely
a dream in my heart just an old tune
: or adrift in the water
under sail off the Brittany coast
under a fierce summer sun
and something stirred within me
and I held her soft face in my gaze
and fell forever into helpless love
John Lyons
Hand of blood and bone
Bone moon
Hand of blood and bone
picks roses primroses
things of perfection
things of time
Simple passing
back and forth
of banter
of bonded bodies
that separate
that slip
in and out
of sleep
On moon nights
the silence
of starlight
at daybreak
doves cooing
and later thrush
and sparrow
and eventual
magpies robins
crows
Last night
the interminable
chatter of foxes
shooting the breeze
survival a way of life
for them
Effortless love
that slips in and out
of silence
words couched
in tireless
gestures
Her lips closed
she sleeps on
while he observes
the coruscations
of time
experience comes
at a price always
worth paying
John Lyons
Love’s faded flowers
Trash, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)
Trash
garbage
the faded flowers
of friendship
heaped in a pile
of sweepings
of yesterday’s news
to which everyone
turns a blind eye
as though
it never happened
forgotten smiles
kisses consigned
to ancient history
who lives by the sword
dies by the word
John Lyons
Love – an artifice of eternity
Débris, John Lyons (40 x 40, mixed media on canvas)
The fact is that we grow into our age
a generation among generations
perhaps the flesh tires but the soul never
the spirit that drives us forward
the pursuit not of intellect but of love
whatever lights a fire under our emotions
From conception to birth to our passing
the cycle is relentless and justly so –
no rose or magpie aspires to immortality
though wild salmon run the rapids
to perpetuate their nameless lineage
The day is there for us to behold
the moments for us to savour the delights
of breath and feel the pulse of life
coursing through our veins : a gentle kiss
is all it takes to lift us up to heaven
John Lyons
Pale rags of cloud
Pale rags of cloud
sweep across
the pale morning sky
pearl grey day
yet to be infused
with light
A single magpie
waits for others
to join it in its play
in the background
the desultory song
of thrush and robin
my mind a haze
of broken dreams
a spidery web
of disconnected
thoughts and feelings
In all these years
the ragged elms
have barely changed
those that witnessed
my birth : from winter frosts
to summer storms
they’ve weathered it all
Time stretches out
its ragged horizon
: roses and daffodils
and autumn leaves
the measure of me
love another — times
I met a fair wind
and a warm heart
John Lyons
When calm and quiet
When calm and quiet
I step into the past
Childhood is as
Another room
Open the door
Cross the threshold
On gentle tiptoes
Watch the characters
Interact as through
A curtain as light
As a butterfly wing
They make you laugh
Sometimes cry
Always longing for
A glance
A gentle touch
A nod of acknowledgement
A brief respite from
What is today
What has to be
Faced, dealt with
Fixed
Renewed, refreshed
To go on.
Molly Rosenberg
