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
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
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
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
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
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
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
