I can see her
in silks
her eyes
molten light
her pursed lips
restless as we rode
the underground
I can hear her voice
brief words
her hands
creating patterns
in the air
purr of her breath
slow release
of her sighs
I recall
the turn of her feet
as we strode across
Tower Bridge
the rich scent
of the wild flowers
in Potters Fields
sunlight drifting
on the river surface
and the nights
the endless nights
of love laid
upon love
John Lyons
Not even stone
can hold the memory
of Matilda Goode
forever :
moths devoured
her silks
now her dust
lies under earth
in the boneyard
of Christ Church
Spitalfields
debris of dry
leaves and twigs
litter the ground
rock turns to sand
: all things pass
time pours salt
on love’s
open wounds
John Lyons
Monotone, John Lyons, (30 x 20 cm, oil on canvas)
Night floats
into day
day floats
into night
seamlessly
all that
wakes
sleeps
all rivers
run down
to the sea
all bodies
age
sooner
or later
love comes
and goes
but not
always
sometimes
it never comes
sometimes
it never goes
c’est la vie
that’s life
John Lyons
Not
cunning
casks
of clay
of the earth
but above
the earth
mindful
soulful
embodiment
of kindness
of love
substance
of tenderness
of warm
gestures
action
words
doing
making
joyful
kiss
endless
bliss
John Lyons
My mind teems
with memories
I know what brings me
happiness and I know
what saddens me
I’ve known love
I drink kefir
and eat slices
of fresh peach
a few golden girolles
sautéed on toast
Through the window
I watch as the early birds
feed on the wing
summer has almost gone
I am still here
living the simple life
in abundance
John Lyons
The door is always open, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)
Out of the darkness
into the light
fire of passion
of blue sky
of pure white life
dark walls inclined
in daylight
green pastures await
art is departure
into something nobler
something brighter
black vectors
urge us to leave
to accept each exit
as entrance
to an outside world
in which the unfettered spirit
of the inner world
may flourish
doors pose challenges
have locks and keys
and mysteries lurk
on either side
of the frame : this is
the binary door
she loves me
she loves me not
take it
or leave it
John Lyons
Edited from previous text
Nothing saddens me now
Nothing saddens me
I have no tears
I feel no pain
I pine for no one
nor for any thing
you have exhausted
every avenue of sorrow
within me leaving me
no alternative but
to live life to the full
in joy and creativity
painting as best I can
writing as best I can
loving those around me
as best I can
John Lyons
Rare earths
we bind in alloys
our bodies stretched
across the periodic table
our flesh and blood
our memories both
enriched and depleted
in the process of time
We may pretend to love
but our true destiny
is atomic and we are
indestructible
down to the tiniest
particle and thus when
all our closed circuits
are finally broken down
and destroyed
we are merely returned
to live among our faithful
cosmic kith and kin
John Lyons
All things of the earth
: sheep grazing
and hawks hovering
above dry dusty fields
scouring the stubble
of wheat and barley
with an eye for the kill
Summer days again gone
and so on and on the cycle
of death and resurrection
all that we live for sustained
by the fat of the land
work of human hand
—cue September mists
and lovers’ lethargy
loth to rise from their beds
John Lyons
The snow in Budapest
the snow in Berlin
the snow in Vienna
colder than the snow that fell
in Independence Square
on the streets lined with
photos of the young men
and women shot by snipers
perched on the roofs
of government buildings
their warm red innocent blood staining
the immaculate white snow
John Lyons
