now available on kindle – yea oh yea

now on kindle

now available on kindle:

amazon.com/author/pdlyons

and yes again

nameless red rose

now

stop messing around and get to work

In The Company of Woodbines by Pd Lyons

IN THE COMPANY OF WOODBINES

~

Open air

Cobble street,

Church bell rhapsody

 ~

Well worn doors

Rough stone walls

Into secret corners drift

Undisturbed as dust

 ~

Waiting the slow pour

Of a pint

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

from Wanting To Be In The Old Tongue

poems of an Irish descent

by pd lyons

Copyright © 2011 PD Lyons

All rights reserved.

:

ISBN-13: 978-1466272996

ISBN-10: 1466272996

pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk

Should The Question Beg For Answer

Should The Question Beg For Answer

will the water be beautiful?

will I thank every drop of the sea?

the sky, will  it  be so blue,

I’ll find ships sailing in the clouds?

and emearald and hawthorn

would i lay down there again?

rise to wander mists by fairy lakes

secret women drift in sleek wolfhound shapes

lead by old and limping men

between hedgerow  and dirt lanes?

speak with mallard fox and silent swan?

their stories told of long ago

when black cats and tabby cats,

small black terriers through stone walls and brier

sure and steady tacked

all possibility of horses

                                                                                                                                   (for Lilly n the gang)

new poetry project. fast invitation

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sjr-7VXnUgs

new poetry project- link to video invitation.

asking help with video reading of my work. includes links to find my poems, asking people to feel free to read them into a video of their own making, you don’t have to be in the video, just hoping people will read and reply to youtube acct.

will be posting poems here as well for you to pick from. can be ones that have already been done or whatever. hoping people will contribute n have some fun. thanks in advance for any time you spend on this.

the silly nervous poet on the video clip -

hope my writing is better than my speaking………..

PS: you dont even have to read out loud if you don’t want to, maybe just strem the words across n do a video interpretation?

all i ask is that you use word for word the poem(s) a written and maybe mention where you found them?

p

Boomerz

Boomerz

I live only in memory.

The day to day does not inspire me,

Only wanting to sit here and think of what used to be

Strung out on the drug America.

Safe only in my own home,

Locked doors, paid taxes, insurance policies protect me.

TV-petrol- chemicals nourish me.

People not like me, outrage me.

from bassa nuvo

September on Mira Bay

A Carmen butterfly day

Lemon yellow birch leaves

Hints of orange on the maples

Thumps of falling apples

Morning shadows the colour of honey

Distantly the ocean grey diamonds in repose

new from osprey journal #4

by pd lyons
Poetry From The Edge

maybe if I stayed
paid my dues
drunken disorder
home town wives
possession with intent
liberal arts and all that shit
reading at the button wood tree
slams at the museum
out for macrobiotic afterwards with students and faculty
but I didn’t’t

instead
carrying with me every step of the way
bones broke by horses
planes to airports languages I couldn’t’t say
waited all day for you in the grand canary
rode alone desert near Giza
stranded in Aswan after ships curfew
walking frozen January rivers in Hamburg
drove 14 hours straight as far as I could go to end up in Ohio
waited hours at Mamoons for someone named for angels never showed
stood alone on street corners 3am waiting on a bag of coke

hope you’re doing well
having a wonderful time glad I’m still here.

http://www.ospreyjournal.co.uk/

by pd lyons
Come Down From Your Hills

Come down from your hills and see me
Remind me when I was a girl
Tip my kisses with honey
Bathe my feet in your curls

Soft green grass in showers of gold
Apple blossoms swirl like snow
Echo-less laughter my hands on your face

Come down from your hills and see me
Remind me when I was a girl
I’m tired of long wool skirts
Tired of wobbly shoes
Tired of being a stranger afraid to remember you

The content on ospreyjournal.co.uk is copyright 2008 by osprey journal and individual contributors, and may not be reprinted or retransmitted in whole or in part without express written consent.

http://www.ospreyjournal.co.uk/

check it out !

www.literaturescotland.com

(thank you Graham for your support – great zine. cheers , pd.)

this morning

this morning of streets

emptier than anything from my

deepest darkest youth.

not even a beggar to drop a coin to

not even a reason to unlock the doors

useless to lock anyway.

Ambrose comes

so I open the side door

he tells me about darkness and men so scared

that only by killing and striving to not be killed

by one another can they bear it.

I pour hot black coffee into the cup

cupped by his hands a browner porcelain of prayer

as are my own.

on little creaky chairs

face to face cups raised to our audible lips

ahh in unison as the hot bitter caffeine

rewards us another day.

I get up and from behind the counter

bring small tin box

knee to knee we look in

and share the same ingrained thought:

but it is forbidden.

then broadly smiling,

we two grown men

each take out a cigarette.

we have silence

we have soft grey light through shuddered windows

we have no need of heat yet