Molecular love
When my molecules
met your molecules
my molecules
jumped for joy
this is love
my molecules thought
your molecules making
my molecules
jump for joy
John Lyons
poetry
Carcass of dreams
Carcass of dreams
The old skins I have shed
are all around me
call it my past
shreds of my past
gathered in dark corners
or under bridges
or in wide fields
that stretch back
into my childhood
Here where I worked
or here where I played
where I kissed a girl
where I walked
head held high
an amateur
in love
The lips have gone
the swoon in her eyes
her warm breath no longer
on my face
The carcass of dreams
litters the streets
Here I was superman
I climbed the iron bridge
vaulted over time
landed at her dancing feet
loved her
as I have never loved
love her
as I will never love
(how could I ?)
again
John Lyons
Not blind obedience
Not blind obedience
Not blind obedience
not adulation
or mere submission
to your will
Nor expectation
of perfection
but rather
of all that is
human
foibles included
moments of doubt
hesitations
A willingness to accept
one’s failings
along with those
of another
to coexist in a space
that is loving
and forgiving
never wanting
to better the other
never judging
or condescending
or back-biting
A love that transcends
our inadequacies
but true to its strengths
to its delicacy of touch
the sincerity of its kiss
free from manufacture
one soul upon another
in celebration
John Lyons
Without words
Without words
Loving you
without words
in the silence
in the near silence
in the half-light
as day breaks
as you sleep on
my breath
sychronised
with your breath
perhaps our hearts
too
Loving you
without thought
or just thinking
of you and of us
and being side
by side
in the half-light
in the near silence
wanting nothing
but to be there
for the moment
when you wake
when your eyes
open
and your lips curl
into a smile
Loving you
without words
hand in hand
arm in arm
on the streets
of London
or Budapest
or wherever
we happen
to be
John Lyons
The poetry of bruise
The poetry of bruise
The poetry of bruise
of hurt
of disbelief
must give way
to the poem of light
the past hacked away
an abandoned track
never to be revisited
Out of the darkness
of the cold steel of night
comes the warmth
of fresh kisses
hope delivered
on the lips
along with the taste
of a new life
She that was
is cemetery
is cinders
is the ash and dust
of discarded time
long forgotten
John Lyons
Ancestors
Ancestors
we who emerged
from the sea
from tall forest trees
from damp caves
are but shadows
hands daubed
in red ochre
on the walls
flames dance
as the flesh roasts
we have hunted
we have gathered
we made love
now we have died
John Lyons
A Venice of the mind
A Venice of the mind
A Venice of time in place
in which you stand
leaning against a parapet
staring into the sluggish waters
People are milling around you
but your eyes are lost
in the distance within you
your heart is drifting
Externally you are a pose
a photograph
soft light in your hair
lips curled in a gentle smile
Internally you are
a lifetime away from me
I have lost you
to your dreams
and to your darkness
You have abandoned me
to the chill wind
of your silence
John Lyons
History’s yellow pages
History’s yellow pages
I ride the bus past Dockhead
the church where my grandparents
celebrated 50 years of marriage
the school where my father once taught
The bus turns into Tanner Street
then heads down
onto Tower Bridge Road
past Ruby’s nail salon
where so often you’d go
on a Friday evening
From the upper deck of the bus
I turn the yellowing pages of history
Old times and old places
and so many faces long gone
but you and I were so happy here
: how could I ever forget ?
John Lyons
Sunday drizzle
Sunday drizzle
In the stillness
I hear the drizzle
falling through
the universe
The birdsong
is subdued
I see leaves
gently waving
in the light breeze
Our star has yet
to appear through
the grey clouds
A train is running
in the distance
and I think
of Emily Dickinson
and the silences
of Amherst to which
she was so attuned
We share
the same cosmos
a common heritage
What is time
in the grand scheme
of things ?
What is any of it worth
without love ?
Rilke’s Apollo
Rilke’s Apollo
Value shaped
by the heart
and by the hand
lends form to love
The torso that gleams
the flicker of stone
seen in the eyes
all the softness
of starlight
caught in the lines
from which these
my words
take their life
gracefully
The artist a beast
that preys upon
the timeless universe’s
distance
movement
and depth
John Lyons
Em português:
O Apolo de Rilke
Valor formado
pelo coração
e pela mão
dá forma ao amor
O torso que brilha
o cintilar de pedra
visto nos olhos
toda a suavidade
da luz das estrelas
pego nas linhas
das quais
minhas palavras
tiram a vida
graciosamente
O artista uma fera
que faz pilhagem
da distância
do movimento
da profundidade
do eterno universo
johnjosephlyons 