The ruins of time

The ruins of time

Face of the orphan
            earth
that feeds us
            ashes to ash
dust to dust
            womb to tomb

ingate of birth
            mere taste
of happiness and mirth
            advancement
and honours vain
            great labour
and long-lasting pain
            this flesh
a bubble-glass of breath
            trophy for devouring death

for deeds die
            however nobly done
thoughts too decay
            but wise words may
perchance outlive sad days
            of sorrow and decay

John Lyons

Perfect silence

Perfect silence

The silence in which I sit
           the geometry of my desires
the circle and the square
           all perfect and the silence
against which the birds sing
           and the stars

Whoever heard
           of an imperfect star
or a sparrow or a bee ?
           Perfect the silence
in which I sit
           a silence of the mind
in which only words
           are heard only breath
in silent rhythms
           A would-be sonneteer
I lack discipline
           have only 
the abundance of an idle brain
          to offer

Soon daffodils and wild hares
           diving beneath hedgerows
and counting the days
           until love returns
soon day will break
           and night will fall
and swathe me
           in perfect silence

John Lyons