Pdlyons's Weblog
cop
sometimes he woke me up so early getting ready for work
that I learned how morning could be dark as night
sometimes he woke me up so late
just to kiss me back asleep
when my father was a policeman
no one thought armour piercing rounds
were a constitutional right
no one but the bad guys
thought he was a bad guy
he was the guy you called for help
and always he’d show up.
The Black
Cool ol’gypsy cob
Takes the wall
Like something unknown
Strangely familiar
Out on the headlands
We don’t look back
———————————————————–
American Outlaw
Always somebody just like you
Somewhere else
In photos
They even look the same
In their past your lovers
Have met and fucked them
In the dark they dreamt
Of things you used to pray for
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I Really Want To Know Where You Gonna Be Forever
Who do you remind me of
Someone else supposed to save
Sunlight shadows
Cross the grave
On the wings of something strange
You or someone just the same
Playing tennis at the park
Summer evenings after dark
Could I ever see you then?
a coming of age drama of the 70′s & 80′s. trials and emotional trauma of teenage artist/writer in small town new england.
http://pdlyons-salamandersafiction.blogspot.com/
Contains adult themes of sexual and terrible words of English language as well as swear words and a possibility of lions and tigers and bears – oh my! And if that were not enough then beware of cigarette smoking and the taking of substances for the mere sake of pleasure and fun.
Not Fit For Puritan Ethic Award
Posted by pdlyons at 6:58 AM 
The Other Days
unsettled
grey rains across the lake
even the fire duller now
as if unable to breathe
your absence
airless
and without remedy
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Catzen
Every moment
Of sunlight
The cat
Knows
Just what to do
~~~~~~~~~~~
Shelly Gone To America
Rain whispers
Through my open window
Night again
Without you
poetry by pd lyons from : Still Wishing To Be Ravens.
please feel free to read, and to participate in pd lyons poetry project. see here:
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basa nuvo poemsbasa nuvo poems (book)Print: €9.00 Download: FREE pdlyons is an eclectic writer, inspirations coming from daily life, past, present and future. drawing on experiences of living and loving as an american in ireland, travelling with horses and enjoying the constant revelations that family provides. |
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
