poetry

Love’s resurrection

irlandesuk poetry ,

pochomil

                       Pochomil, Nicaragua

A place of kindness
       of fresh-cut flowers
and rounded gestures
       of deep affection

eyes streaming sunlight
       the words whispered
on her lips brighter
       than any stars

Last night in vain
       the moon sought
to distract me
       from her beauty

A place of silence
       a delta through which
endless passion flows
       into an unmapped sea

Shores I walked with her
       under shade of palm
soft sand underfoot
       and time teeming

breath of poetry
       of instants captured
utterly eternal resurrection
       of love

John Lyons

True colours

irlandesuk art, poetry

gate adjust

         Adjustment, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, oil on canvas)

These birds too
       know that it’s September
they also have their calendars
       and live from season to season
acting in accordance
       with the earth’s mood

They see the leaves falling
       they see dew on the grass
at first light and they observe
       the behaviour of squirrels
harvesting for the winter ahead
       and they sense
in the silence in the skies
       as summer visitors depart
to warmer climes
       that life will shortly form
a tighter fist
       and that some but not all
will soon struggle to survive –
       they know more than we know

John Lyons

Edited from earlier today

Just words

irlandesuk art, poetry

Face

From this distance in time
         that rearward vision
as life unravels
         leaf after autumn leaf
falling through the drizzle
         all those moments captured
in wordy recollections
         the winnowing wind
of memory
         me picking my way
through the text
         of my past

Where would I be
         without those words
when love was in flames
         A world unwoven
only to be threaded
         together again
poetry to exalt
         the present and the real
built on the bridge
         of what went before

John Lyons

The red ball gown

irlandesuk poetry

How the words fall
       the occasion of words
or words for an occasion
       words that tell a story
or words that are the story
       pivotal words not merely
yes or no but found to be
       at every inflection of our lives
words in the midst of silence
       intriguing or decisive words

A widow in a wise veil
       a careless colour applied
to a carefree canvas
       a meal consumed
without animosity
       words measured so as
not to cause offence
       or precisely the opposite
: if a silence is not observed
       does it exist does it ?

A luscious red ball gown
       laid across a bed –
who will wear it and
       will she or won’t she ?
And if love is not observed
       does it exist does it?

John Lyons

Love is the only hope

irlandesuk poetry ,

stein_alice

                 Gertrude Stein and Alice B Toklas at home

Winter is closing in
       I read Gertrude Stein
to cheer me up –
       a cushion
a seltzer bottle
       a long dress
a red hat a blue coat
       a piano a chair
white lilies in a vase
       on a table upon which
particles of fine dust
       are clearly visible
or perhaps not dust
       but withered pollen

Outside
       the silence is singing
I can hear the sea
        where we bathed in July
I can hear the birds
       who have kept us amused
all summer
       their shadows gathering
on the wires overhead
       soon to be on their way
I think of our lives
       trimmed by the light
trimmed by time
       and how slowly
but surely our days
       spread into nothing
and how love
       is the only hope

John Lyons

Life cycles recycled

irlandesuk poetry
sycamore seeds

Stood under the old sycamore
       gazed up through the shadows
through the branches
       at the pale blue sky
the foliage now thinning
       many leaves underfoot
their colour faded to dull rust
       with the texture of wafer thin
friable parchment curled by age
       and days away from dust
the green seeds still clinging
       to dear life but with dry
stiff brown wings all ready
       to take flight

: twins
       I thought or lovers
joined together in a kiss
       but o so soon to be separated
in the relentless cycle
       of life and death and afterlife

John Lyons

Reprinted from yesterday with two modest alterations

In the dark drift of night

irlandesuk poetry

In the dark drift of night
the entire universe realigns
planets and stars and comets
unbeknownst to the lovers
who sleep through their dreams

At daylight standing
by an open window
I see that the hawthorn
has flowered effortlessly

While we slept all things
have grown : the roses
have come into their own
and fresh voices have joined
the dawn chorus

I understand that growth
is depletion in all things
but love – nothing else
matters

John Lyons

To love and be loved

irlandesuk poetry

What I miss about winter
       is the brilliance of the stars
on those pitch black nights
       when there is frost in the air
and my soul is wrapped
       in the warmth of my flesh

to know that I am alive
       that I have a history
that all things are possible
       in this universe of light
in which to love and be loved
       lends purpose to every breath

John Lyons

Squirrel takes a turn

irlandesuk art, poetry

aimless 2

You would think
       that that squirrel
that spritely rodent
       with its grey bushy tail
was in training
       for something

All morning
       it has been running
back and forth
       along the rim
of the garden fence
       making a great show
of its enviable sense
       of balance : freezing
from time to time
       in quintessential poses
before leaping forward
       with acrobatic ease

Winter is approaching
       already the sun has dipped
the first frosts are days away
       the squirrel will have its sport
before summer utters
       its last call

John Lyons