poetry

Reading the coffee grounds

irlandesuk art, poetry
coffee
Coffee grounds, John Lyons, photo 

Reading the coffee grounds

A fine autumn day
           with a brisk breeze
and magpies
           ten of them
playing catch me if you can
           flying under and over
the garden table and chairs
           There are dandelions in the grass
and a few late blossoms
           in the bushes—
most of the berries
           have been eaten

and I’m sitting here 
          alternately
looking out of the window and staring
           into the empty depths
of my morning coffee mug
           Nothing there now
but the dried grounds
           and I try to read the pattern
traces of light appearing
           out of a dark cloud
She loves me
           she loves me not
she loves me
           I’ll know
soon enough
           that’s for sure

John Lyons

Revised text.

Found art, at the bottom of my cup!

A nosegay for my love

irlandesuk art, poetry
posies
A nosegay, John Lyons (oil on wooden lid)

A nosegay for my love

a posy
a spray
a bunch
a bouquet

art
of the moment
a cast-off
on the lid
of a wooden box

a throwaway
dashed off
with scant attention
to detail

an action painting
an act of love
to render a thought
or rather
a feeling

an engagement
with the medium
flowers that emerge
out of nothing

ephemeral
merely to state
that love
is the part of us
that never dies

John Lyons

In an essay entitled, A process of painting, Robert Motherwell wrote : “A painting is not a picture of something in front of your eyes—a model, say, primarily. It is an attack on the medium which then comes to “mean” something.”

Ten wise virgins

irlandesuk art, poetry
ten wise virgins
Ten wise virgins, John Lyons (20 x 30, oil on canvas)

Ten wise virgins

A room with a view
           a dark room into which
light streams
           through an open window
a table laid for dinner
           silver service and fine porcelain
a room in which much human dust
           has settled

Soon host and guests will enter
           words will be moved around
chairs scraped on the floor
           there will be laughter
and few moments of silence
           amid the clink of cutlery on plates

Sometimes there is
           a definite purpose
as though the universe
           is going places
sometimes we all need
           to take a break

John Lyons

Layers of love

irlandesuk art, poetry , ,
waters
Troubled waters, John Lyons (20 x 30 cm, oil on canvas)

Layers of love

Snow fell as they tramped 
through the empty streets
of Berlin

What was in their hearts
protected them
from the bitter cold

And as they passed hand in hand
beneath the Brandenberg Gate 
they felt invincible 

Life is often what lies beneath
a landscape in which layers of love
have been laid to rest 

John Lyons

The heart that beats

irlandesuk poetry

The heart that beats

Whichever way we look at it
           our lives begin with a scar
when we are cut free
           from our mothers
and must henceforth
           fend for ourselves
and in the course of our lives
           many of us accrue other scars

From the darkness of the womb
           we go out into the light
and we take hesitant steps
           until we find ourselves
The brightness at the heart
           of this painting emanates
from the primary colours
           and they represent the joy
I am experiencing
           at this stage of my existence

The surface of the canvas
           bears the evidence of scars
and there are areas
           shrouded in darkness
but at its heart
           what shines forth
is the affirmative light
           and a love of life

John Lyons

A child into the world

irlandesuk art, poetry

A child into the world

A failed painting
           can often be resuscitated
and that’s where the art lies :
           one has to examine the dead canvas
and imagine how one can
           breathe some sort of life into it
That’s why so many artists
           are reluctant to let their work
leave the studio
           they need to be certain
that what they have created
           will have an existence all of its own
that it will stand the test of time
           and require no explanation
or props to keep it alive
           Just as one would not want to send
one’s children out into the world
           vulnerable or defenceless
it’s an act of love
           towards one’s creation

John Lyons

The beating heart

irlandesuk art, poetry

The beating heart

Certain terms
make me smile
action painting
for example

Every painting
ever done
is the result
of a series of actions

thought
word and deed
—and painting
is a language

Robert Motherwell
a highly literate artist
wrote
that he preferred
to see
rather than read

But what could he
possibly see
without reading
the language
in which
it was written ?

Art
is feeling
the integrity of feeling
: it comes through
in the radiance
of light

John Lyons

Robert Motherwell (1915-1991) was one of the youngest of the New York School, which also included Philip Guston, Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko. This poem draws on a reading of The Collected Writings of Robert Motherwell, edited by Stephanie Terenzio.

St Mary Magdalen, Bermondsey

irlandesuk art, poetry
matrix2
Inverted matrix, JohnLyons (20 x 20 cm oil on canvas)

St Mary Magdalen, Bermondsey

The poet knew
           that true love
is indissoluble
           neither can it
be faked

Wild flowers
           and vines and weeds
come up through
           the headstones
that line the boundary wall
           in the grounds
of St Mary Magdalen
           in Bermondsey Street

The names engraved
           on these sandstone markers
long gone to dust
           and dead words hang
in the silence

What of the murmur
           of dreams
what of the curious
           systole and diastole
the beating and pounding
           of blood in the veins
what of the cries
           and the laughter
the husky pantings
           of these lovers
now laid to rest ?

The poet knows
           in the senses of his body
and in every limb
           and in every breath
that love
           is the pulse of life

John Lyons

The matrix painting may be hung in any of its four orientations. See Matrix in yellow and umber

Light sensitivities

irlandesuk art, poetry
getting there
Getting there, John Lyons (70 x 50 cm oil on canvas)

Light sensitivities

Yesterday glorious sunshine :
           my son and I sat in the garden
all afternoon and cooked chicken
           on the barbecue
I brought my canvas out briefly
           and laid it on a table
added some flourishes
           of greens and yellows and reds

At its heart
           the golden triangle is preserved
also the city skyline running
           along the bottom edge
This morning I noticed
           that as the paint is drying
some of the colours have dulled down
           where there was sunshine
the composition is a little overcast
           Outside it has just begun to rain
and I realise that my canvas
           is sensitive to the weather
I’m also aware that my best work
           was done when we were in love

John Lyons

Revised

It goes without saying that the photos accompanying these poems give an approximate representation. A professional photographer would be better able to capture the vibrancy of the colours.