Sometime in this Writing Life – Sitting at the Picnic Table I Made or Rather Assembled, Ruff – by PD Lyons


 

Jefferson Airplane Volunteers  through the windows

Wide open

Cranked up.

Cohiba burning fine.

Smoke drifts fat across a still September

Evening sun cast shadows

Dog tearing up an old sock for fun

skids upon the driveway gravel.

I’m even able to do

smoke rings

while i write

magenta letters

white  loose blue line paper

relieved from all misery of updated software.

This, not anything else is

Why.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volunteers_(Jefferson_Airplane_album)

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Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre – Dame 2016


Pdlyons's Explorations

 Virgin of Guadalupe Notre - Dame Virgin of Guadalupe Notre – Dame

Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre - Dame 2016 Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre – Dame 2016

dsc_2677 Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre – Dame 2016

Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre - Dame Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre – Dame

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sometimes softly in ruff draft by pd lyons


So a few moths back as a graduation gift to our daughter we got to go back to Connecticut for a while. On the way over had the head set plugged in and listened to the Classic Rock section! Hendrix, Byrds, Dylan etc. filed a half a note book with scribbles, just getting to them now. And as i ‘m wanting to do a blog  post today i made it easy on myself and popped this little piece from what i’m doing right now – here. Hope its not to ruff for you.

 

 

sometimes softly comes to me

the smile of your long long ago joy

 

sometimes softly comes so vividly

an open car

your laughter

the sun all ripcord silk and shining 

 

Sometimes softly comes to me

a song you used to dance to

Ol time rock n roll

Doulble trouble shakes n all

A man and a woman a dock on a bay

 

Sometimes softer still

A kiss that dared

A possibility accepted

Your answers to

My questions

Long remembered

~

i love rock and/or roll

I love rock and’or roll!

.

Sometimes in this Writing Life


Critters fed

Bread in the oven

Kitchen cleaned

REM  And I Feel Fine : Best of the IRS Years through out the house

Shelly’s landed safely in Toronto

Dog sleeps in the sun

And so it goes…

pdlyons photography. Topsmead Litchfield Ct.

Day 2483: Crowded


The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

As usual, my mind is crowded with lots of thoughts, including ideas about what to write about in today’s blog post.

Last night, I watched part of the debate among the crowded field of Democratic candidates for President of these United States. Did anybody stand out from the crowd, for you?

Yesterday, my day was crowded with three Coping and Healing groups — two for patients and one for staff.

In one of the groups, I handed out the Rumi poem “The Guest House” which mentions “a crowd of sorrows.”

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I love this kind of acceptance of whatever thought or feeling enters our crowded hearts and minds. In other words, nothing we feel or think should be considered trash.

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The white boards in the group rooms were crowded with lots of topics.

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The word “unexpected” stood out from one of those crowded lists.

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It looks like the letter “D” has…

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The People Who Cured Themselves by P D Lyons from As If the Rain Fell In Ordinary Time


Taken from the 2019 erbacce poetry prize winning entry by PD Lyons. It was one of the original entry of four poems. “This one, I am proud to say was influenced by the work of Laurie Anderson & William S. Burroughs.”

The People Who Cured Themselves

 

the people who had cured themselves

from the virus once called language

communicated eloquently

with their hands

with their arms

 with their eyes

with the colour of their skin.

 

impossible to be misunderstood

they learned of the winds worship of leaves

the way the sun with every shadow enjoyed each day by day

and the height of midnight stars all sparkling –

happy with the moon, longing for its return.

 

eventually they forgot –

the coarseness of verbal abuse

the trickery of its seduction

the con of its half-truths.

 

made themselves dwellers on an island

rescuers, healers for those washed up from the deep

unafraid of reinfection they let the long-term healing of their lives

speak for them.

 

 

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

The annual erbacce-prize for poetry is open from January 1st to May 1st every year. It is entirely FREE to enter thus it attracts top quality poets world-wide… in 2019 we had close to eight thousand entries and all were judged ‘blind’. P D Lyons was the outright winner! Below is the book we produced for him… it is sheer quality poetry, the whole book encompasses a simplicity coupled with deep insight; a truly beautiful collection which reveals more each time it is re-opened… (perfect-bound: 112pages)

http://erbacce-press.webeden.co.uk/p-d-lyons/4586525519

 

Through the generous support of  Westmeath County Council a limited edition of 50 numbered and signed copies are available to purchase direct from the poet at €20.00 to include standard postage world wide.  Please click on the link above to order via PayPal

LyonsCover

 

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If We Could Allow Grief by PD Lyons


In the latest issue of Buddhadharma Quarterly  I read a beautiful article by Joan Sutherland, Roshi titled Here at the End of the World In it she eloquently and effectively explores our social grief and lack of expression and how it is impacting our response or lack of response regarding the environmental situation. Below is my own attempt to express myself regarding grief and gun violence. While I make no comparison to Roshi Sutherland and my own pale writing I felt I must site her influence. Perhaps from here you’ll seek her out? Here is a direct link to her site and the complete article https://joansutherlanddharmaworks.org/Detailed/186.html

Thank you for reading.

pd Lyons

.

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

If we could allow grief

Our grief to manifest

 

A school room of 7 year olds 

Shot to death

A spring morning

Their families

The responders

The survivors

The shooter

All grief worthy

 

If we could allow this grief

Wouldn’t we be able then to progress?

 

Fear of grief

Shielded with anger

Anger stifles, prevents movement, stagnates into polarity, perpetuation of fear.

 

If we could allow grief

Could we not then allow healing?

 

this courage, is it not worth daring?

 

Anarchist- A Poem By Pd Lyons


misebogland

Anarchist

black beret

rich with pleats n buttons

green down to the floor coat

wait in line for the coffee machine

young women at the nearest table

quartet study group

ponder the ability of children

to reach the alphabet

good crows of the Spanish arch

some crumbs left for the sparrows

through 100% UV protection

waves the open ocean

new world

across the bay

somehow the difference now has come

with out effort

and all those stories never told

up in tobacco

cross the causeway

reach out into the disappeared

via Why we like The Galway Review…. « Pdlyons’s Weblog.

via Why we like The Galway Review…. « Pdlyons’s Weblog.

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draped in white your invisible hands , poem and photography by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

~

went down by the house you used to live in

all the windows had the same curtains

the one where your bedroom was was open

for a moment

draped in white

your invisible hands

wave

~

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Always There Is Choice


Pdlyons's Explorations

Sometime we must say yes or no

But how we say it is up to us

Always there is choice

Mural, the eyes of the Virgin by Mario Colin Mural, the eyes of the Virgin by Mario Colin

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