Cosmic birth pangs

Cosmic birth pangs

 And still they search
           for signs of other life
in the universe
           huge parabolic ears cocked
and listening to the whimpers
           of cosmic birth pangs

 Is it not enough
           that you and I
are here and now ? 

Could it not be
           that you and I
and the love
           we share
are purpose enough
           for the whole of creation ?

John Lyons


Revised from earlier post

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Raison d’être

Raison d’être

To see the world
as love sees it

the constant
ephemeral flame

what fires the heart
sets acts of passion

in motion
and drives us

to be better
than ourselves

to be the gift
that never dies

to be the truth
that never denies

its reason for being
its being for a reason

John Lyons

Occasional side-bit

companion piece
Companion piece, John Lyons (oil on wood)

Occasional side-bit

Down every day
           to the solitude of the woodland
a serene sun filtering
           through the trees
as I sit here by the pond
           the water surface moving
in gentle wind-ripples
           before me

On an old beech at the edge
           decayed and slanting
yet still with life and leaves
           on its mossy limbs
a grey squirrel is exploring
           running up and down
flicking its tail before sitting
           on its haunches

Suddenly it sees me
           and the game is up
as it races back into the thick
           of the foliage again

John Lyons


Adapted from Walt Whitman’s Specimen Days

Bound for glory

Bound for glory

That we are made of light
           this explains your beauty
your rich red handsome blood
           housed in the flesh
turns of phrase on the tongue
           words of love
and the delight in your eyes
           nothing more naked
more wholesome nor
           more complete than love

It’s in our nature
           to shine
to glow
           to tremble with excitement
to be among all other things
           tender and warm
and clear and unwavering
           in our heart’s purpose
scrupulous with every kiss
           our bones bound for glory

John Lyons

Fatal attraction

Fatal attraction

Light travels at such a speed
           to us it seems static
and through the waters
           a carp swims swiftly
but we catch the glimmer
           of its scales
or the trout moving
           through a stream
that summer in Kilkenny
           ripples of sunlight
drifting across
           the river surface

All things move
           and our emotions too
movements of the heart
           one towards another
and we call that
           love

John Lyons

The snows of yesteryear

snowfield
Snowfield, John Lyons (oil on canvas)

The snows of yesteryear

When lost for words
           I reach for the poets
Charles Olson
           or François Villon
luminous words
           scrawled on paper
genius is almost always low tech
           it comes in flashes
in aperçus
           in fleeting moments of insight

All that has been
           suddenly is : time
is the face of recognition
           where are the loves
of yesteryear
           the snowfields of yore ?

Each of us has
           our own unique antiquity
some die in their bed while others
           swing from hallowed gallows
Notre Dame
           a place of visitation
a monument to belief
           in the resurrected spirit

John Lyons

 

A Southwark story

A Southwark story

I have picked a path
           through the day
and now that the sun is setting
           I sit here wallowing
in the afterglow
           light softly fading
as time settles down
           for the night

Within what memories
           I have lived these hours past
of moments and places
           and feelings that can never
be relinquished
           down by the silent river
or along those dusty streets
           where nothing ever changes
where nothing will ever
           be the same again

John Lyons