Long-tailed tits

Long-tailed-tit

Long-tailed tits

If you go down to Highgate Wood
           there are sparrow-hawks
on the prowl and crows and magpies
           looking for easy pickings –
so the long-tailed tits
           can take no chances

In the fork of a tree
           or the thick of a hawthorn bush
they build a nest shaped in the form
           of an old-fashioned flexible purse
with a narrow entrance
           to one side near the top

It’s made from a mesh
           of tiny moss leaves
bound by spider silk
           and covered with flakes of lichen
to provide camouflage
           against predators

The interior they line with hundreds
           upon hundreds of downy feathers
to insulate and create a warm cradle
            for the clutch to come –
and for weeks
           they live in fear
until the brood has found its feet
           and found its wings

John Lyons


Version en français

long-tailed tit nest

Les mésanges à longue queue

Si vous descendez à Highgate Wood
           il y a des éperviers à l’affût
et des corbeaux et des pies
           à la recherche de cueillettes faciles –
donc les mésanges à longue queue
           ne peuvent prendre aucun risque

Dans la fourchette d’un arbre
           ou bien au milieu d’un buisson d’aubépine
ils construisent un nid en forme
           d’une bourse souple à l’ancienne
avec une entrée étroite
           d’un côté près du sommet

Il est fabriqué à partir d’un filet
           de minuscules feuilles de mousse
liées par la soie d’araignée
           et recouvertes de flocons de lichen
pour se camoufler
           contre les prédateurs

L’intérieur ils tapissent
           avec des centaines
de plumes duveteuses pour isoler
           et créer un berceau chaud
pour la portée d’oisillon à venir –
           et pendant des semaines
ils vivent dans la peur
           jusqu’à ce que la couvée ait
trouvé ses pieds
           ait trouvé ses ailes

That mirror moment

That mirror moment

Hard cold cruelty
           of the mirror
true friend of time
           harshest critic
inflexible judgment
           how thin
how destructive
           your silver lining
as you throw back
           in our faces
every wrinkle
           every line
every error
           of excess

and how you prowl the world
           lurking
in every unexpected corner
           ready to pounce
in halls and bathrooms
           hotels and restaurants
to confront and unnerve us
           when masks have dropped
and we are left alone
           with little more
than our intimate
           loveless reality

John Lyons

Time threads its way

jewel
Precious stone, John Lyons (oil on wood)

Time threads its way

Time threads its way
           through the rain
down into the gutter
           down into the earth
the gentle drizzle of time
           and I lie here thinking of her
far away now
           but remembering the closeness
the soft warmth of her body
           the beauty of her composure
the sheer energy of her existence
           everything that drew me to her

As galaxies roll around the universe
           as stars are born and others die
as fresh shoots of life appear
           all around me I pine for her
hating her absence and the silence
           with which she has filled
my days and nights
           There was an intensity
to what we shared
           with all the simplicity
of passion – and I know
           that it can never die
And so I wait for her
           to turn again – to return
to place her heart
           into my hands once more

John Lyons

A poem for the day

underpainting
Abstract geometries, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

A poem for the day

Spring with all its promise
           the flowers that we cut
tulips and irises and daffodils
           the words we hold
close to our hearts
           when time moves
at a gentler pace
           and we hear the coo of doves
as nature positions itself
           for all that it takes
for the species to survive
           the particles of life
coming together
           difference converging

and young children skip
           along the pavements
and lovers embrace
           under the shade
of willow and oak
           A world that the beholder
imagines and savours
           in the mind and heart
Light borne on the tide
           the river suffused
and the oceans deep
           with the mystery
Knowledge of things –
           chromatic achievements
are as naught
           when love is absent

John Lyons

Wings for a day

Wings for a day

A tiny white butterfly
           the smallest I’ve ever seen
flutters among the wild flowers
           on a stretch of wasteland
between two railway tracks
           its pale wings gently
paddling the air in which it floats
           from bloom to bloom

Nectar to feed its brief life
           nectar to fuel its brief love
nectar to sustain its brief beauty
           a poem to celebrate the memory

John Lyons

Highgate Wood

 

Highgate Wood

Highgate Wood

Ancient woodland
           hornbeam holly and oak
new growth shooting up
           alongside the deadwood
fungi feeding on the carcasses 
          of fallen trees

At night bats
           have the run of the place
– pipistrelles – natterers –
           and common noctules

but by day the dogs
           are out in force
dragging their owners
           by the lead
kicking up the dirt
           as they go

John Lyons


Revised from earlier post

Canary Wharf

Canary Wharf

The early morning
           chatter of birds
never idle
           never pointless

a roll call
           present
and fighting fit
           here I am

let the day begin
           bring it on
time may ruffle
           our feathers

but it will never
           defeat us
and by God it’s great
           to be alive

John Lyons

 

Shades of love

Shades of love

With silver light
           the sun sets
handing the day
           to night

in the darkness
           your body my horizon
your murmur
          sound of the sea

the moon hides
           in the tall trees
their branches
           winnowing the wind

love’s simplicity
           defies definition
but my heart
           never tires of its song

John Lyons

 

Lip service to love

Lip service to love

April showers May flowers
           Bluebells line the railway line
the sun hides in the sky
           and at night the darkness
beats at my window
           I see silence all around me
I hear it in my heart
           the stillness of trees
that long for birds
           to alight on their branches

April flowers May showers
           and lambs frolic in the fields
the beautiful illusion of blue skies
           and summer silences
At night the world curls
           into a ball
sleeps by my door
           until first light
when untrammelled dreams
           unravel before my eyes
an occupational hazard
           pays lip service to love

John Lyons

 

Palette portrait

Palette Portrait

So many times
           I slept by your side
woke before you
           and lay there
admiring the beauty
           you embody
the softness of your breath
           your lips pursed
the calm assurance
           with which you dreamt
your cares away
           I longed for you to wake
but waited patiently
           until your eyelids
began to flicker
           and finally opened
and welcomed me
           with a smile
into your heart
           my love

John Lyons