Dregs, John Lyons
Beauty lurks
in all things
ready to beguile
to entrance
to win a heart
to provoke a sigh
beauty that
so truly lies
to the eye
of the beholder
Here my fortunes
in love or life
all too easy
to be read
in the coffee cup
to me remained
a mystery
to others
an open book
John Lyons
Grapevine, John Lyons
What shall I do
with this absurdity
this universe in which
silence and stillness
simply do not exist
I think of whispered words
the tightened bow of her beauty
the ships on the shores of Troy
the blazing battlements
and a heart under siege
The rod and fly that I handled
so poorly as a boy when I fished
the streams around Thomastown
days long forgotten dearly remembered
What shall I do with this absurdity
the mule that I rode or the horse
or the donkey or a day at the fair
riding the carrousel with scarcely
a dream in my heart just an old tune
: or adrift in the water
under sail off the Brittany coast
under a fierce summer sun
and something stirred within me
and I held her soft face in my gaze
and fell forever into helpless love
John Lyons
Let the day live, let the day be
through you, let the day
gently dictate the course
of your breath the course
of your fate of your shadow
of your movements
your decisions, of your thoughts
and your feelings, let the day be
through the minutes,
through the hours
without worry, without fuss
let the day live in all its splendour
in all its glory, let it be your life
and be roses, be bees and butterflies
and magpies marauding
and red foxes prowling
and squirrels squirreling
and willows sighing
sweet memories tugging
at the strings of your heart
let the north wind and the south wind
and the east wind infuse your soul
with resolution, let the day live
in every nook and every cranny
of your being, let nothing whatsoever
darken your days, neither the sun nor
the moon nor the stars
Let the day live, let the day be
and let nothing but love
stand in your way
John Lyons
Bone moon
Hand of blood and bone
picks roses primroses
things of perfection
things of time
Simple passing
back and forth
of banter
of bonded bodies
that separate
that slip
in and out
of sleep
On moon nights
the silence
of starlight
at daybreak
doves cooing
and later thrush
and sparrow
and eventual
magpies robins
crows
Last night
the interminable
chatter of foxes
shooting the breeze
survival a way of life
for them
Effortless love
that slips in and out
of silence
words couched
in tireless
gestures
Her lips closed
she sleeps on
while he observes
the coruscations
of time
experience comes
at a price always
worth paying
John Lyons
Trash, John Lyons (40 x 40 cm, mixed media on canvas)
Trash
garbage
the faded flowers
of friendship
heaped in a pile
of sweepings
of yesterday’s news
to which everyone
turns a blind eye
as though
it never happened
forgotten smiles
kisses consigned
to ancient history
who lives by the sword
dies by the word
John Lyons
Débris, John Lyons (40 x 40, mixed media on canvas)
The fact is that we grow into our age
a generation among generations
perhaps the flesh tires but the soul never
the spirit that drives us forward
the pursuit not of intellect but of love
whatever lights a fire under our emotions
From conception to birth to our passing
the cycle is relentless and justly so –
no rose or magpie aspires to immortality
though wild salmon run the rapids
to perpetuate their nameless lineage
The day is there for us to behold
the moments for us to savour the delights
of breath and feel the pulse of life
coursing through our veins : a gentle kiss
is all it takes to lift us up to heaven
John Lyons
Pale rags of cloud
sweep across
the pale morning sky
pearl grey day
yet to be infused
with light
A single magpie
waits for others
to join it in its play
in the background
the desultory song
of thrush and robin
my mind a haze
of broken dreams
a spidery web
of disconnected
thoughts and feelings
In all these years
the ragged elms
have barely changed
those that witnessed
my birth : from winter frosts
to summer storms
they’ve weathered it all
Time stretches out
its ragged horizon
: roses and daffodils
and autumn leaves
the measure of me
love another — times
I met a fair wind
and a warm heart
John Lyons
When calm and quiet
I step into the past
Childhood is as
Another room
Open the door
Cross the threshold
On gentle tiptoes
Watch the characters
Interact as through
A curtain as light
As a butterfly wing
They make you laugh
Sometimes cry
Always longing for
A glance
A gentle touch
A nod of acknowledgement
A brief respite from
What is today
What has to be
Faced, dealt with
Fixed
Renewed, refreshed
To go on.
Molly Rosenberg
How gently she moves
through my mind
an image without words
a fleeting presence
and how the quiet returns
in moments of respite
Who among us
has never loved in vain
has never fought
for a cause that was
doomed to failure or turned
an eager hand
for it to come
to naught
But there is no pain
in the imagining
or when we shake down
the dust of distant days
Our dreams our hopes
wind in circles that recur
old tunes rattled out
on an ageing gramophone
the long-legged flies
that scuttled across
the shallow pond’s
smooth summer surface
our lives a convoluted
race against time
and all the while obsessed
with truth and beauty
a lonely face that flashed
before my eyes
a whisper barely heard
before it dies
John Lyons
Upon Troy’s battlements
I will not say
that the cards dealt
were marked
or that such were
the merciless stars
that shone upon
those dark nights
when I struggled
to find my path
my soul
in the stillness
in the morning silence
broken only
by voice of thrush
and sparrow and
cooing dove
I stand by my choices
and the consequences
thereof
and look to the future
my body yet to collapse
into wrack and ruin
my desire to love
and be loved intact
Today I hold
my hand to the fire
hell has no mysteries
it is heaven that eludes
or provokes with promises
of rude passion to tempt
our tender flesh
into submission
or beguiles us with
crude images of beauties
that stalk the flaming
battlements of Troy
John Lyons
