Is there poetry outside of love I
wonder   knowing that somewhere yes
in the distance lips are pursed and tears
are running down her nostrils and the full
moon has passed into the clouds and all hope
has been lost    Like a subway train   the act
of love passes
                      and the flicker of lights
on 6th Avenue serves only to deep-
en the misery of self-awareness
The truth comes in several colours   you
take your pick but the consequences are
invariably the same    Pale flowers
because the day is long and so much space
to fill with words and silence
                                         and dry tears

John Lyons

The earth
       so full of life
so full of truth
       another word
for universe
       that which
never lies –
       the riddle
of the sands
       But behind
every paradox
       every mystery
lie explanations
       and meanings

The innocent smile
       of a young child
the purity
      of her message –
as she left the tube
       she turned to thank
all her fellow passengers
       and to bid them goodbye
These are the angels
       true messengers
who speak only
       of goodness and love
the earth so full
       of truth and love

John Lyons

I have a mental picture
           of the poet Frank O’Hara sitting
in his apartment
           on a glorious New York summer’s day
He’s wearing a crisp
           white shirt and new sneakers
and is nervously tapping his fingers
           on his desk in time
to a phrase from Rachmaninoff
           that has been running
through his head
           ever since he woke

Through an open window
           he can also hear the city creating
its usual dusty cacophony
           he also has an eye on the clock
: the friend who is giving him
           the ride to the beach is late
and he has so been
           looking forward to the trip

Just then the doorbell rings
           and at once
he is overcome
           by the sudden surge of love
in his heart and struggles
           to get to his feet
fearing he might drown
           in the emotion

John Lyons

Somewhere
there is a part

of me and
somewhere

there is a part
of you and I can’t

help thinking
that those two

parts should
come together

somewhere
some time soon

John Lyons