Simple I said
whenever you love me
it goes straight to the heart
I need all things
less than love
I want all things
less than love
material physical love
your finger brushing my lips
gently
your eyes
looking lovingly
into mine
all other purposes
are less than love
there is
no greater reason
no greater sense
than love
John Lyons
The poet asks
what is it to love
what is it that moves
two people
to take one another
as their own
to have and to hold
to exclude all others ?
that love
clear and bright
seen in the intersection
of their eyes
and in the shared pattern
of their movements
in the harmonies
of their breath
in all their geometries
and in the rhythms
and the intricate narrative
of their dance
What beauty arises
from their unmuted concentricity
from the steadfast enactment
of their most intimate dreams
As circles of darkness
are kept at bay
by circles of light
so their souls shine
in the singularity
of their conjoined flesh
: time is the dust
that love outlives
John Lyons
Through the woodland
we walked hand in hand
heard the rustle
of a baby squirrel
in the undergrowth
saw crows pecking
at the rich pickings
in the damp soil
and magpies going silently
about their business
and in the open field
a dog fetching a ball
only for it to be thrown again
All nature falls yes
but life bounces back
the hollow trunk
decaying down into the soil
will rise again
in fresh limbs
that will proudly withstand
the rain and the wind
nature is par excellence
a survivor and love
is in our nature
John Lyons
particles and waves
waves and particles
the humility
of the universe
you and I
waves and particles
energy shaped
into purpose
what ions are exchanged
when we embrace ?
a cosmos underwritten
by the laws of attraction
congregation and congress
in which bodily boundaries
are annulled and for a moment
our souls blend into one
John Lyons
Beneath these lives we lead
beneath the surface
the truth of ourselves
the depths that are hidden
the strengths and the fragilities
that we display when we enter
into relationships
the text of ourselves
that we offer to the other
all the versions of ourselves
that have gone before
refined and tailored
for present company
all that we lived
and all that we loved
way back in the present
of those past times
the curve that brought
learning and sometimes
forgetfulness
an easing of the burden
of our histories
To have loved in innocence
to have survived the thrills
of childhood and adolescence
to be where we are to day
where you are today
where I am today
self-contained bodies
brimming with love
John Lyons
I was born under my stars
you were born under yours
and though we share
the same universe
there are still silences between us
that stretch out across space
my quietness and yours
imponderable
as cracked autumn leaves
tumble through the galaxy
If we dig deep enough
we will hit upon
pockets of the past
your childhood and mine
our parents now long gone
dreams that are ripe
for resurrection
the lust for love
In Spitalfields market
I bought black leather gloves
to keep my fingers warm
those fingers
that know your body
so well
When you blush
your blood vessels fill with desire
I can read your face
like the back of my hand
Never forget that we share
the same minerals
nor that the shadows
that trailed behind us
on the edges of the Grand Canal
will be there for all eternity
I own the light in your eyes
just as you own the light in mine
: we are a constellation of two
our nights know no darkness
John Lyons
The common English oaks
cast a towering shadow
over the platform
at Barnehurst station
the pedunculate oaks
with their sessile lobed
spirally-arranged leaves
twisted into rhyme
Time has again gone up in smoke
as autumn has drained
their lush green leaves
to the colour of tobacco
Clad in thick fuses of ivy
from head to toe
these trees are doomed
as their lifeblood
is slowly sucked away
No glorious spreading crown
for these emaciated specimens
no monstrous girth—
their acorns litter the ground
cracked and crushed
under relentless waves
of commuter feet
Time feeds on time
a parasite that will
one day bring these trees
crashing down to the earth
and so these rugged branches
will rot back into the soil
from which they once emerged
ash to ash
dust to dust
But the minerals
will rise again
the resurrection
of the molecule
is not an article of faith :
oak leaves are indeed
hands reaching out
to future hands
Wallace
John Lyons
Home in the early hours
along the lonely path
from the railway station
the temperature has fallen
the dew is descending
and the grass is furring up
with a delicate frost
and I remember his hands
as he felt his way through Brahms
felt his way through his feelings
tentative and yet decided:
the instruments of passion
at his fingertips melody
which he caresses as the lover
that lies within
gently phrasing his affections
Leaning in he extracts a cascade
a stream of notes picked
from the calm domestic world
that surrounds him
the rhythm shifts but the identity
doesn’t change
He has nothing to reveal
he is the revelation
on a walk through the woods
here a rose there a robin
an eagle soaring above a stream
of crystal clear water
He has become
part of the world narrative
a rich fragment
a billowing love song to life
and to natural beauty
: here children play
you can hear their laughter
as they race down the hill
here love goes hand in hand
surges in moments of ecstasy
and subsides into peace :
the piano has become a carapace
he bears the weight
on his shoulders—a shell
a habitat an exuberant
meteorological space
Lost within a score
he leans back
adjusts his cuffs
and shakes his wrists
to loosen the remaining
notes that lie within him
Faith and hope and charity
the variegated satisfactions
of a domestic universe
an impassioned partnership
in which he has dissolved into Brahms
a marriage and a resurrection
and so the frost falls
and the night sleeps on
until lovers
refreshed
rise from each other’s arms
into the new day
John Lyons
The poem above is based on notes taken during a brilliant performance of Brahms’ Three Intermezzos Opus 11 given by Evgeny Kissin at the Barbican theatre on 10 March 2016.
Good care of souls
in the hands
of the poet
in the words
Let us terminate
our season in hell
and go forth
in joy and charity
Let us dispel
those mists
that keep us
from seeing
what is
before our eyes
In order to be one
we must first separate
so as to conjoin
in love’s singularity
A cloud
has enveloped my days
but with a vengeance
the sun will return
and with it spring
with all its blossom
and blithe airs
and you will shine
in all your inexhaustible
beauty
John Lyons
Of course I take it personally
whether you love me or not
whether you betray me or not
whether you fail me
or fail to understand me or not
I bear the soul of a private man
ploughing by day the furrows
of city streets in which squirrels
run rampant and gold is amassed
in steely towers of greed
So I live and die for words
for unsolicited acts of tenderness
for the beauty of light on water
for the delicacy of moonlight
that pierces the night sky
Of course I take our lives seriously
your life and mine : and tell me
why would I not ?
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 