Miracle

Miracle

So much depends
upon a primitive heart
a simple pump
with two chambers
a miracle beating
within the universe
of feeling
of love
of poetry
and art

John Lyons


 

Afterthought

Afterthought

Life is of the mind
but what is real
is not the same
as solidity

Is love more real
than the rose
the feeling
more acute
than the thorn ?

No ideas
but in things
though the idea
is a thing
in and of itself

just as the mind
is a location
a place of thought
and feeling

and where love
takes up
residence

John Lyons

No ideas but in things

lilac

No ideas but in things

Across the garden wall
         I see a tall array
of common lilac blooms
         the flowered cones
dipping gently
         in the easy summer air
as they bathe in the sunshine
         that will prove to be their ruin :
their season is on the cusp
         and by winter they will be gone

I hear the sparrow’s song
         the drone of pigeons
the harsh cry of magpies
         and I know that nature
is there to be heard
         and to be seen
I know that it is
         performance
that it clamours
         for our attention
that it is in fact
         the articulation
of Eden
         there
for the discerning eye
         for the discriminating ear
the spectacle of life
         unfolding
the to and fro of time
         that we call seasons
all out of the mineral earth
         from which we too
are shaped
         a heartfelt home
that is of the mind
         that feels its way
through life
         sufficient habitat
for those who have fallen
         on their feet

John Lyons


 

Ways of looking

Ways of looking

Poetry is a way
         of looking at the world
of scrutinising the world
         in all its facets
the world and its shadow
         its black clouds
and its bleached bones
         as well as the flowers
and the trees
         and their shadows

a man a woman
         and a blackbird
and their shadows
         a verbal cross-examination
of what is seen and felt
         and thought and touched
the pursuit of truth
         and beauty

momentary beauty
         immortalized in the mind
of mortal flesh
         So much depends
upon this unique art
         a red wheelbarrow
or a Grecian urn
         so much depends
on the energies harnessed

the bird a nest
         the spider a web
man poetry
         one crystal-cut word
in relation to another
         the fraternal art
that brings daffodils
         and roses
and a blackbird whistling
         that throws off
the cowl of winter
         and ushers in love

Beauty is dangerous
         as it is troublesome
the embodiment of truth
         in the memory
it defies all oppression
         defies all oppressors
and refuses to take no
         for an answer

John Lyons