Hope in words

Hope in words

Hope in words
           in the truth simply put
the rose has its path
           the river runs
down to the sea
           days come and go
but through words
           we navigate
find our bearings
           make sense
of our feelings
           cling to the possibility
of beauty and love
           in our lives

Hope in words
           and trust in the truth
in the goodness
           that rises up
out of the earth
           that builds all life
The hawk that appeared
           one Friday evening
on a ledge in Earls Court
           and all the commuters
making their way home
           observed in awe this bird
so out of its comfort zone
           its implacable eyes
scouring the tracks
           for edible life
nothing by chance
           nothing for no purpose
hope in words
           that can carry
the mind
           to a better place

John Lyons

The hovering hawk

The hovering hawk

In your reading
           you come across a phrase
that captures
           your imagination
that pleases you
           how the body is light
how in its youth
           it dances and sways
to life’s rhythms
           and as you mature
you become aware
           that you are the fruit
of your own making
           you lift a finger
you get on with it
           you make your bed
and you lie in it
           a hawk hovering
above a field of barley
           has seen something
I would not have seen
           and so it hangs in the air
for a purpose
           and I hold the idea of it
in my head
            and in these words

John Lyons

Early rising 2

Early rising 2

I rise in the early hours
         it’s dark and cold
I make a coffee
         and sit at my desk
and wait for ideas
         for a little poetry
to take the sting
         out of existence

Through the window
         I see a hawk
hovering in the distance
         circling
in ever wider arcs
         out no doubt
for an early morning kill

         and I turn back
to the comforts
         of my mind

I remember your kisses
         and I miss them
just as I miss the warmth
         of your breath on my face
when I wake by your side
         when you wake by my side
but you’re not there
         at the moment
and the day is dark and cold
          and fresh ideas
are in short supply
         alas 

John Lyons