Love’s creation

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Love’s creation

Love’s creation
an ocean of words
of colour on canvas
of notes on a stave
dance steps
on a sprung floor
all shapes and sizes
and the rain that feeds
all growing things
pearls within an oyster
and a green knight

child of the woods

I grew into my life
fought fears and learnt
to breathe the air freely
my shy feet carried me
overseas and back
but I have always been
where I am and
I am since you
drowning amid
moonstones

I have peered
into your smile
known the danger
and survived
you are a singular
kingdom crowned
with living coral
I am the spirit
that creeps upon you
at night and sleeps
within your breath
my hands and wrists
are tied to your service
there are no corners
in our tomorrow only
our love’s creation

John Lyons


Corrected text

Pity poor flesh

Pity poor flesh

Pity poor flesh
           pity poor stars and stones
pity poor world
           of war and enmity
pity the lion and the forest
           and the schools of children
doomed to a fading life
           pity poor love and lip
that struggles to express
           the heart’s true desires
seeking solace in the size
           of a shoe and bag
and a dress cut to ribbons
           Pity poor flesh
in its daily dalliance
           with kingdom-come death
and made-to-measure
           madness

John Lyons

 

Moonful thoughts

Moonful thoughts

Last night with the full moon
           I felt a tide rise within me
a surge of my old self
           I’ll revert to my singularity
and be true and steadfast
           in the pursuit of my pursuits
eyes peeled for the hawk
           that hovers above
the ploughed fields
           my gaze drawn
to the beauty of roses
           in full bloom

Kind words I’ll trade
           with whoever offers kindness
but I’ll be on my guard
           against those shallow souls
with mean pinched faces
           who’ve sought 
to dupe and betray me with their
           whimpering fantasies
: nothing false and possible
           is love
which is ours to give
           and to keep
as the seasons flick
           ever lifewards

From humble heights
           true love grows
to become in and of itself
           a proud universe
of rapturous speech and gesture
           within which lovers
kneel and bless themselves
           and give praise

Yes
           back to my old self
to the left hand
           in sync with the right
balance and equanimity
           nothing possible and false
is limitless
           love

A creamy disk of light
           against the pitch black sky
and the tug of blood
           rushing through my veins
urging me to own and to disown
           with discernment
I too have lived the learning curve
           have timewise stumbled
here and there into bitter failure
           : but no more

Cycles of pain and joy
           I trust shall soon cede
to the once and for all
          and love in my life 
shall become 
         an enduring ecstasy

John Lyons


Revised version

Provence

 


Provence*

Who but me knows the precise thrill
       that rises out of the deeplyness
of your beauty — a beauty steeped
       in the tenderness of your gesture
a beauty beyond definition
       that tears language apart
that reduces poetry
       to a meaningless rubble
of senseless sentiment
       It is not that the fabric of your skin
is softer than any silk
       though it is that too
nor that your smile floods
       whatever space you occupy
with a savage starlust
       of almost unbearable brilliance

No
       The memory of fields of lavender
of orchards overburdened
       with the fragrance
of competing blooms
       the wild perfumes that rose up
from a land soothed
       by the summer breeze
vineyards swept
       by the wayward dusts of Provence
and on the Mediterranean shore
       the fine pilgrim sand
that shifts so slowly in time
       Those were restless days
and months and years
       now long gone
a remnant glimmer that
       with undimmed youth
I hold in my eye
       a beauty that knows no repose
matched by a sweet desire
       that will never die

John Lyons


*The above poem was inspired by the following line,”Who out of deeplyness rose to undeath”, taken from a poem by e.e. cummings, published in 1931 in a collection entitled W [ViVa]. To read the whole of the poem by cummings click here http://plagiarist.com/poetry/3713/.