A clear day
and no memories
sun glistening
on the water’s surface
of Spirit Quay where a grey wagtail
is hopping from one
lily pad to another—
a yellow-bellied male
with a black throat and
whitish moustachial stripes
Barges moored by the riverside
are flying the Ukrainian flag
and people are sunning themselves
in the Hermitage memorial garden
: the tide is out and time
is taking a break
John Lyons
A clear day
and no memories
the treeline in the distance
dappled with sunshine
Today I will walk and ride
and sit and dream
by the riverside
where our life flowed
so sweetly
All those years
that meant so much
the many bridges
we crossed
the many sunsets
we shared
the laughter
and the love
the many petals
of fallen roses
John Lyons
I cannot speak your thoughts
no more than I can read
the mind of the stars
That fear possessed you
I know this :
that your courage failed
at the point of decision
and so you withdrew
I know that in that moment
whole cities faded out of sight
and certain ardent words were lost
as you hid your heart from me
We are of the world but
we cannot fix it unless
we’re prepared to defend
love’s innocence and carry
our convictions to the grave
and never betray our kiss
John Lyons
As we were friends and occasionally loved each other,
perhaps to add a further interest
to the many that already bound us,
we decided to play mind games.
We set up a board between us:
equal in pieces, in values,
and possible moves.
We learned the rules, swore to respect them,
and the match began.
We’ve been seated here for ever,
ferociously pondering
how to land the final blow that will irrevocably
annihilate, once and for all, the other.
Rosario Castellanos
(translation by John Lyons)
Under the full moon
down by the Thames
I said to her— Be the voice
of my night
of my day
of my love
Let us share the sunrise
the silent hour at dusk
and together
let us scan the sky
for shooting stars
Let us travel
down to the shore
to hear the sea-sound
to be lulled by
its timeless serenade
John Lyons
This is how the wind shifts
from one moment to another
the result of the tussle
between high and low pressure
and as the wind shifts
so too the day and all
the illusions and disillusions
it brings as part of its baggage
and our thoughts go spinning
and our feelings reeling
as warm and cold fronts clash
under the barometric weight
human eagerness driven by
clear blue skies can so easily
collapse into lethargy and
irrational gloom :
it takes a spark to ignite
our passions and set the stage
for love and romance to unfold
and fill our lives with joy
The earth and the sky
and in between
the white cliffs
and the rolling sea
from sunrise
to sunset—our lives
In old wooden huts
down by the shore
old men and women
silently mend the nets
the air heavy with brine
and the stench of sea debris
broken shells and damp
seaweed underfoot
We were there
for a few short hours
one summer’s day
and when we walked
among the backstreets
we came across a row
of Tudor buildings
and we felt as though
it was our discovery
And in those days
it felt too as though life
belonged to us
that it was our world
and that we would
always be in love
with it and with
each other
John Lyons
The silence of things
that have no voice
no means of expression
above and beyond
their physical shape
and characteristics
things so often
in the backdrop
that we barely notice
stones in the road
that only occasionally
cause us to trip
And yet they are
presence and context
where what we talk of
takes place or unfolds
Our fascination
with the moon
and the stars and the sea
with lakes and rivers
all of which are in
perpetual motion
and have deep purpose
and speak volumes to us
on their own terms
in their own language
devoid of syllables
but full of sense
And we speculate constantly
about never-ending things
the chain of life and death
systolic and diastolic and all
that happens in between
Love should be among
those never-ending things
and sometimes it is
but all too often
there comes a sharp speech
a withering conversation
and the voices dry up
and love no longer is
John Lyons
The silence of things
that have no voice
no means of expression
above and beyond
their physical shape
and characteristics
things so often
in the backdrop
that we barely notice
And yet they are
presence and context
where what we talk of
takes place or unfolds
Our fascination
with the stars
and the sea
with lakes and rivers
all of which have motion
and deep purpose
and speak to us
on their own terms
in their own language
devoid of syllables
but full of meaning
And we speculate
constantly about
never-ending things
the chain of life and death
and all that happens
in between
Love should be
a never-ending thing
and sometimes it is
but all too often
there comes a speech
and the conversation
dries up and
it no longer is
John Lyons
“in thy beauty is the dilemma of flutes”
The wOrds saD and beauty, the
woRds thORN and desIRe;that si-
lence that is anathemA to musicke, you-
r loVer torn betwEEn a rock and a
hard place;body of love laid snug
to rest;inTemPerate riSe and faLL
of quickSilver.Stay A while and I
will take your baroMetriC press-
ure;a feBrile finGer strays upon y-
our impulse.O lord, lead us into temp-
tation,bEforE it is tOO late.But for
the worDs,beTimes, all is dusT.
18 April 2005
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 