poetry

What moves me to words

irlandesuk poetry

What moves me to words
       moves me to silence too
poetry is in the to and fro
       of the motion of the emotion
I see instances of beauty
       and I want to capture them
just as I want to admire them
       in silence in stillness
in the peace and quiet
       of my heart

The stars at night
       as I look out
across the necessary ocean
       never idle
the stars nor the sea
       in this universe woven
from light :
       the paradox
of gravity and weightlessness
       So what holds it all together
even as it expands
       fragments of the nothingness
that existed before the Big Bang
       blew it all apart ?

What drives this mass of energy
       into the shape of wild roses
or the orchid’s delicate blooms
       or the innocence of a child’s smile
or the unabashed gleam
       in my lover’s eyes ?

John Lyons

Today in this light

irlandesuk poetry

Today in this light
       this late summer light
you look different
       the light in your hair
the light in your eyes
       today you look different
gilded by this late
       summer light
this halo of light
       that enhances
your elegance
       your beauty

Today in this late
       summer light everything
seems possible
       our joy our happiness
and not just possible
       but necessary as though
it was meant to be
       as though we were
meant to be in this late
       summer light before the last
roses fade in the approach
       to winter

John Lyons


What goes around

irlandesuk art, poetry

Erin

The season will soon
       be upon us again
of Vacherin Mont d’Or
       the winter cheese
in the round pine box
       sumptuously
unpasteurised
       deliciously baked

Think of the hillsides
       where the cows graze
where the pine trees grow
       and the wooden disks
from the base and the lid
       which I decorate
year after year
       to celebrate the force
of nature and the power
       of the imagination

John Lyons

Slender words

irlandesuk art, poetry

mond

Aimless art, John Lyons (25 x 30 cm, oil on canvas)

As the wind moves
through a field
of tall flowers

or through a forest
in winter
when all the leaves
have fallen

As it moves through
her hair displacing
the sunlight
as it goes

As her breath moves
through her lips
passes out
into the air

and the sound
of her laughter
of the voice shaped
by her words

her gentle smile
and the kiss
she blows
for me alone

John Lyons

Memory is distance

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

drift
               Coffee grounds on yellow background, John Lyons

Memory is distance
       over time
is wholeness
       is struggle to prevent
fragmentation –
       perceptions saved
within the senses
       the dragonfly
that skimmed the pond
       summer after summer
all those years ago
       and the scent of cherry blossom
of peach and pear and plum
       and cut grass
and ice on my tongue
       the joy and sadness of rain
and winter dreams
       and the discontent of bees
as flowers fade and dust gathers
       on the gilded earth
and love comes lately
       if it comes at all

Memory is sharpness
       of the mind
we forage for it
       and sometimes stumble
upon past realms
       resurrected in the heart
savoured on the lips
       or a soft voice heard
on the edge of night
       a tender text of angels
a sudden knowledge
       of years reborn
a body politic
       to which we clasp
until daylight breaks
       across our bones

John Lyons

A day at the beach- Prainha do Caniçal

irlandesuk poetry ,

Prainha 

A secluded family beach
       set in a natural cove
and accessible only
       by a series of steep steps
: there you bathed
       and we lay on our towels
and lapped up
       the unbroken sunshine

When lunch came
       four sardines on a plate
and a bowl of French fries
       which we ate overlooking
the immaculate ocean
       : from sunrise to sunset
all that we had was what
       we had within our hands

John Lyons

Just add a little lipstick

irlandesuk poetry , ,

bodiao

The Portuguese budião
       or wrasse
is a curious thick-lipped fish
       and an Atlantic loner –
all are born female
       but over the years
many mutate to male
       at which point they build
circular nests of algae
       leaving open slits
where the female
       lays its eggs

The English name comes
       from the Cornish gwragh
a mouthful meaning old woman or hag
       but lightly grilled
its mild white flesh
       is a culinary delight

John Lyons

Love and trust

irlandesuk poetry

These then are the people we are
       we travel back and forth
to Funchal or to Machico
       to Seixal or to Porto Moniz
we lie on sun-drenched beaches
       and navigate the rocks and stones
we drink from plastic bottles
       and climb steep rugged hills
with the agility of billy goats
       we eat whatever the restaurants
push our way without complaint
       we examine our consciences
by reading the old colonial histories
       stamped on church walls and ceilings
After dark we count countless stars
       and pay allegiance to a golden moon
sparrowhawks mewl in the night
       and visit the ledges of our dreams

We are all the things we ever wanted to be
       yet having travelled so far
still have so far to go
       love and trust stroll hand in hand
through narrow dusty streets
       love and trust lie in a single bed
love and trust bring new names
       into the world and shield the dead
from permanent death
       paradise we know can be clinched
with a kiss if the time is right
       and good fortune comes our way
to keep growling hound dogs
       and sacrificial gods at bay

John Lyons

Sipping smoothies in Garajau

irlandesuk poetry ,

Whether of peach or mango
we sat under shade
and sipped our smoothies
and beheld the day
filled with sunshine
and quiet words
amid snippets
of the life stories
we exchanged

Here there was silence
for the taking
and gentle steps of affection
as the truths one by one
were released
into the atmosphere

How two narratives
can become intertwined
so that a convergence of news
and consciousness occurs
just as our feet followed
for a few days
a shared path

At four in the afternoon
the sun at its fiercest
and sometimes we bathed
in the cerulean sea
and sometimes we lounged
or climbed steep hills
through narrow streets
lined with banana or fig trees
our heels kicking up the dust
of those long departed

and reaching our destination
we panted for breath
and gasped for water
like lovers whose energies
are sapped by the depth
of their endless entanglement

and at nightfall a dark sky
hovered above the land
and one by one the stars appeared
etching out an array
of unfathomable distances
so placing all our intimacies
into proportion underlining
the farness and the nearness
of unadulterated love

John Lyons