poetry

Seventy years and counting

irlandesuk poetry

Seventy years
       man and boy
I’ve known hawthorn
       in flower and thistle
and seen cherry blossom
       strewn across the lawn
I’ve known the solitude of crowds
       and the companionship of roses

My fingers have bled
       when I grasped the thorns
I’ve known and lost love
       and won love again
only to lose it once more
       but each day I dream
of a dancing girl
       who will come to me
when the shadows gather
       and night falls

in the blind darkness
       she will creep into my life
a warm heart embroidered
       on her sleeve and she will
spin and twirl in my arms
       until the early hours

At dawn the dandelions
       will rise in the fields
in the eaves
       white doves will coo
and the joy in my heart
       will be unconfined

John Lyons

Air is the medium

irlandesuk art, poetry

dance_2

                               Air dance, John Lyons (50 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)

Measured movements
the body shifting

in time and space
think of the gravity

think of the rhythm
think of the journey

the steps taken
the ground covered

in leaps and bounds
choreographed air

dance of sunshine
under moon and stars

John Lyons

Love’s last look

irlandesuk art, poetry

detail 2

                Detail 2, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Whichever way
you look at it
it’s words
there’s no escape

silence
the absence of speech
but not necessarily
of thought

Viewed from this angle
what does this canvas
convey ?
Shapes and colours

are the same
but a shift in orientation
is a shift in perception
just as love

observed from a distance
is simply not the same
her face her eyes
caught in a new light

a composition of the mind
a flurry of questions
where is this all going
and where will it end ?

John Lyons

Love’s refusal

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

detail

                                Detail, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Dark lashes
       eyes abashed
reticent lips
       gentle wind
sifting the hair
       a vulnerable beauty
built of taut flesh
       and supple bone
that must step out
       into the world

Sometimes words
       get the better of her
and she turns in
       upon herself
no mirror can
       hold her for long
nor any man’s arms
       nor moon her night
she is a truth
       waiting to be told

John Lyons

My heart laid bare

irlandesuk art, poetry , ,

stains_s

                                 X-Ray, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Let’s call it songrise
when the light breaks
across the horizon
and sparrows come
to sing at my window

Hers was a face made
before the world was born
formed from the energy
of dark drifting stars
her hair spun from silence

Here let my heart be laid bare
muscular intuitions shaped
in the vanity of words
All things may be numbered
days years and the hours

in which love multiplies
in endless invention
How many times did I kiss
those scarlet lips and look
into those soft tempting eyes 

John Lyons

Angel emerging

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

angel_emerging

                    Angel emerging, John Lyons (unfinished, 70 x 50 cm, oil on canvas)

On the drawing board
       of creation an angel
emerges to save my soul
       Who in the dark night
has not heard her cry
       banished from paradise
she scours the earth
       imparting love
where love is due
       softening the sharp
edges of what we know
       to be universe

In silence she descends
       a flutter of wings
gentler than those
       of any species of moth
to dry tears where they fall
       a sparrow or a nightingale
crude prototypes in comparison 
       from the dawn of time
Come sweet angel free me
       from this soiled earth
and lift me up to that heaven
       where you and I belong

John Lyons

Corrected text

Colour of love

irlandesuk art, poetry

beach
                       Unfinished, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Ocean depths or
       a beach of buff titanium
unpainted patches
       or thin smears –
an unfinished canvas
       in which only some
of the angles are right
       a space awaiting
occupation
       decisions decisions

Outside
       the dawn chorus
no words to their songs
       another day of decisions
simmering reds and pinks
       and vibrant yellows
would brighten it up
       emotions brushed
under the carpet
       it’s so hard to say goodbye
and some paintings
       never leave the studio

John Lyons

Art lover

irlandesuk art, poetry

stains

Stains, John Lyons (16 x 16 cm, coffee and oil on canvas)

A grid formed
from barbecue skewers
laid overnight on a canvas
and doused in coffee
to create a canvas
drawn from nature

gravity and evaporation
did most of the rest
but a few dabs of oil paint
were added to provide
a little colour

so whose work is it
mine or an accident
of art produced
by the shaky hand
of chance?

John Lyons

The doors of perception

irlandesuk art, poetry ,

Copy_k

                            Door, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

“If the doors of perception
were cleansed
every thing would appear to man
as it is, Infinite.

For man has closed himself up,
till he sees all things
thro’ narrow chinks
of his cavern.”

William Blake
from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790-93)

The painting illustrating today’s text is a reading of Willem de Kooning’s A door to the sea, held at the Whitney Museum in New York. It is perfectly legitimate for one painter to base a painting on an existing work by another artist. Think of the plethora of nativity or crucifixion scenes in Renaissance art. In its own way, a door may represent a nativity or a crucifixion.