poetry

Rough with the smooth

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warp and woof
Warp and woof, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

Rough with the smooth

Love too is a work
            of the imagination
it constantly seeks
            new forms of expression
in order to remain fresh
            to keep the present alive
and not simply trade
            on the faded past

It can be brash
            and outspoken
and have real attitude
            since by its very nature
it’s gestural
            more in the manner
of a de Kooning
            or a Pollock
than a Titian
            or a Raphael

Yes I want all of you
            the sweep of your strokes
across my body
            your hair falling
into my eyes
            my face drowning
in your tears
            of laughter
your precious hand
            gripping on to mine
as we hurtle
            down the roller coaster
moving from the darkness
            into the light

 

John Lyons

It’s good to be alive

irlandesuk poetry

It’s good to be alive

Cold and sharp last night
            clear and not much wind
the full moon shining
            a fine spread of constellations
Sirius very bright rising early
            preceded by Orion
vast glittering sworded
            chasing with his dog

In the calm splendour
            of the night
I take a short walk
            the earth hard frozen
a stiff glare of ice
            over the pond
my mind full of her
            of her last words to me
before the cold silence
            The bitter wind
drives me back
            into the warmth

I wake early
            my mind full of her
the lost warmth of her love
            the fond memories

Out in the open
            the sun has risen
I sit on a bench
            close to the woods
I bask in the pleasant air
            there are bluebirds
flying about
            I hear the reedy trill
of a robin
            then other songs that rise
to a steady chorus
            I stroll on past the pond
where the ice has melted :
            it’s good to be alive

John Lyons

Adapted from a passage by Walt Whitman

A fond farewell

irlandesuk poetry

A fond farewell

Dignity in the face of loss
            or the slow ebb of affection
when love slips away
            and silence and coldness
take its place

She was a lady of flowers
            an unending river
a city of the imagination
            an early morning song
she was flesh and blood
            and her eyes danced
before all she saw
            the magical breath of life
she was the stuff of dreams
            made real and whole
and a force of nature
            she was where I always
longed to lay me down to rest
            in her open arms
in her open heart
            she was beauty
refracted through love
            and for a while
I was hers and
            she was mine

John Lyons

The acid test

irlandesuk poetry

The acid test

Let the record state
            that there was love
true and honest
            and deep and full
of kindness
            and that steps
were taken
            to defend that life
against all adversity
            but words of promise
of commitment
            to commonwealth
to shared purpose
            are as nothing
until they are proved
            upon the pulse

John Lyons

A red robin in Richmond

irlandesuk poetry

A red robin in Richmond

The gift of simplicity
            to live an ordinary life
and to admire
            all the simple things
around us

A red robin alights
            on a branch
in a garden
            in Richmond
sent as a reminder
            to draw breath wisely
to be thankful
            for small mercies

Humility is not
            self-abasement
it is keeping close
            to the essential values
of our true nature
            what springs
from the earth

Stripped of all things
            if love remains
we want for nothing
            from love
we draw our strength
            : put simply
love is what it means
            to be human

John Lyons

Bound in the body

irlandesuk poetry

Bound in the body

We who are bound
            in the body
finite within the infinite
            rooted in the earth
although our dreams
            all stem from the stars
We acquire habits
            and qualities and modes
of expression
            we have a language
for everything
            we have memory
and also the capacity
            to forget

And how one body
            attracts another
that’s one
            of the fundamental laws
and what we seek
            in that union
is a haven from life
            a heaven of peace
and love
            and so it creeps
into our metaphors
            and the beloved
looks heavenly
            or out of this world
Baudelaire
            with a different
complexion
            and when we have loved
fulfilled
            we are at rest

John Lyons

Object lesson

irlandesuk poetry

Object lesson

It comes as a surprise
            to realise that things
are as we imagine them
            not as they really are

The rose of our imagination
            brings with it a history
a long narrative and a succession
            of previous appearances
in childhood or adolescence
            or when we first as an adult
presented a single bloom
            on a slender stem
to the love of our life
            A rose without thorns
which we handed over
            to the gloved hand
a token to attest
            to a dream
that we carry within us
            of love everlasting

And yet the rose withers
            changing visibly
under the changing light
            a moment to which we cling
hopelessly and a poignant
            drama borne within the bud
and an object lesson to us all
            as the universe flows on

John Lyons

 

Remembering Bruton

irlandesuk poetry ,

Remembering Bruton

As the train left London
            snow began to fall
and we wondered whether
            it would accumulate
but it did and by the time
            we reached Bruton
it lay thickly on the ground
            and we shivered
as we stepped out into the air
            and everywhere whiter
than the sheep
            on the hillside

And that night a whole lamb
            roasted on an open fire
and there was music
            and we danced
and there were fireworks
            and so many people
and so much love
            in your eyes

John Lyons

The simple truth

irlandesuk poetry

egg cups

The simple truth

Our breakfast might sometimes
            be as simple as a soft boiled egg
with a slice of toast and some jam
            the big end of the egg pricked
to allow the air sac to void
            when immersed in boiling water

It became something of a ritual
            and I remember how you struggled
to decapitate the egg with a single
            swipe of the knife and how instead
you crushed the shell into tiny pieces
            Our life then was full of meaningful
simplicities shared with a smile
            We knew then in our hearts that
we had been born to be together
            for better or worse for all time

John Lyons