Small birds
blue tits finches and sparrows
on a frenzy of feeding
devouring the orange berries
so abundant on the bushes
at this time of year
They come in their twos and threes
their light weight
barely bending the branches
and they peck at the fruit
as though there was no tomorrow
and for them perhaps there is none
John Lyons
Revised
The under-painting
was more complex
more contrived
had more definable colours
occupied the whole
of the canvas
What’s presented here
is a stripped back version
paint removed
by the application of turpentine
and a rub with a rag
so that the initial gestures
of the first intentions
are not shrouded by excess
Here the daub
is actually a disapplication
to leave virtually nothing
but the bare bones
It’s a messy canvas
because life is messy
Cadmium yellow
is the colour of love
and love as we all know
is messy too
John Lyons
September rain
the pavements
strewn with leaves
a dampness
that reeks of decay
the dwindling light
of a year winding down
after a long hot summer
And yet there is a comfort
in these relentless cycles
all life and death
in a nutshell
the lush green fields
the swollen rivers
the long trails of birds
flying south
while the rest of us
batten down the hatches
And she is constantly
in my mind
her hair the rich colour
of autumn
her eyes too
the beauty that lies
beneath the pale skin
the love
that makes life
worth living
John Lyons
All from atoms
the roses I brought her
the champagne—
she trimmed the stems
of the flowers
and placed them in a vase
I opened the champagne
and poured it into glasses
We toasted
and we kissed
two bodies touching
and in this way
peace was made
sadness was banished
and for a while longer
she loved me
John Lyons
My heart has no complaint :
for the better part of love
I loved and was requited
Now autumn’s dust envelops
all the world along with seeds
amid the flaking debris planted
that will in time bring forth
new life new growth new love
fresh petals to adorn the bed
where every wanton kiss is granted
John Lyons
There is another Verona
in which Romeo
never knew Juliet
where no star-crossed lovers
ever met their untimely deaths
a Verona devoid
of duelling Montagues
and Capulets
and where the wooden homes
have no balconies
from which to issue
sighs of unrequited love
John Lyons
Her tousled hair
when she wakes
the fine threads
that bear her age
the intersection
of her beauty
with the world
the accumulated
events of her breath
and all that it takes
to make a life
a probe advanced
into history in the making
knowingly becoming
who she wishes to be
the flesh of her
with its starwarmth
like all things
fabricated from
universe
So I ask myself
what is there
not to hold dear
and to love ?
John Lyons
Revised
Abstract they say
suggesting devoid
of form or rhyme
or reason
as though geometry
were the only truth
Time is occasions
and they occur spatially
there is no such thing
as empty space
no such thing as frontier
we’re all in this together
the welter of events
energy and mass
and the stillness
of the contemplative mind
This then is my geography
a battlefield
an urban woodland
back and forth
across the ocean
highs and lows
a little love
here and there
my DNA written
in the stars
skin and bone
of the sun
And as the wind rises
I lean into the future
it may be a long hard winter
but I will not be cowed
I carry Hector and Achilles
in my blood
and to date
not a drop has been spilt
I was once so young
I had no memories
the slate was clean
and there was everything
to play for
lights
camera
action
John Lyons
With corrections
Sometimes a daughter
may be thirty years old
but not always
as in this portrait
based on a photo
taken when she was eleven
and even today
she is no longer thirty
the clock having moved
but she retains
that innocent gaze
and she is gentle
and kindness itself
and she speaks her mind
because she minds
her truth and loves
to sit at a table
and share a meal
with those she loves
who love her back
John Lyons
Here is a new world
created by chance
as all worlds are
depicted on taut hide
the coloured elements
of a rare earth
scars in the cosmos
in which it floats
its geometric perfection
at odds with its universe
to believe that therein
bees and butterflies exist
and seeds and flowers
and what when two
people come together
is known as love
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 