Because of every year we miss you ~ Two poems and three songs for my Father Donald R Lyons Nov 21. 1925 – Jan 26, 2003.


DAD

The swans out in the field

Their secrets not revealed

Passing into silent flight are they

Perhaps their subtle sigh

Stifles some deeper cry

As they know you’ll be leaving much too soon

Walking down the lane

The filly foals refrain

Their running is the sound of falling rain

Are they restless from the summer?

Or somehow do they know

You’ll not stay to seen them fully grown

By the fairy mounds of old

The pock marked GPO

Cross the Boyne to bang your head on spiral stone

See the wonders down at Fore

And the ancient seat of kings on Tara hill

Now sitting by the fire, music’s playing’ low

Guess I’ll raise a glass or two before I go

Though it’s to an empty chair not your smiling face I stare

(Yet) whenever that door slams I still hope to see you there.

And sitting here I wonder

All those stories finally told

Revealed how in our youth

We were so very much the same

Was it drink that made us bold?

Or did we speak so true

Because somehow, we knew

You’d not be coming back this way again?

Somewhere Still

Somewhere there is still a place, you sitting in the sun, concrete porch paving slabs, Cape Cod Grey picnic table, small summer savages running jumping clinging – immune bare feet impervious to sun. Skin frosted with salt, lotions, cake icing.

Somewhere children still take your hand, invite you to cross the street walk with them down to the beach, taking them sometimes instead to lunch…

Long-time companions, comforts of old age, afternoon naps, books, TV, mail order catalogues, big band music and too those ever-dangerous memories –  love, marriage, a hole never in twenty-three years has time healed.

Somewhere she still takes you by the hand. Ohs your name laughs into the open window, Fifty-five Chevy, summer bright chrome. So close to flying great American V8 highways up through the Canadian border dwindling into heavy Nova Scotia sands.

There has never been an ocean too cold for her to swim in. Long after your retreat to safety – Flamingo towels, Knickerbocker beer, USMC Zippo, Old Gold cigarette spiral prayers. Gratitude at last. Unable to fathom any reason to feel bad about surviving.

Deep breath wonderful (not a god damn palm tree in sight). Watch that woman of the sea; only wish there would never have to be a time to leave.

Later she gets tipsy; acquiescing when the waiter offers to sweeten her drink no knowing here to sweeten means more liquor. Out on the dance floor, hold each other tight as you want because she’s your wife now and you always liked the Mills Brothers.

Sometime after midnight, small cedar room, Stuart tartan blankets, crisp white sheets. Strange night sounds traipsing gingham curtains. As if tiny fingers, she ohs your name. Answer back with words you never knew before.

This spring by the sea your little house will not find you. Gone now perhaps to wander just like W.B. said –

 Glimmering girl once more beside you and pluck

 Till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

(For: D.R.L. –  with regards to W.B. Yeats, his favourite poet.)

Donald Raymond Lyons
Donald Raymond Lyons, 77, of North Shore Blvd., East Sandwich, MA, formerly of Rockledge Dr., Waterbury, passed away peacefully on Sunday, (January 26, 2003) with his family by his side at the Mary F. McCarthy House in Sandwich. He was the husband of the late Flora (Rosano) Lyons. Mr. Lyons was born Nov. 21, 1925 in the Waterville section of Waterbury, son of the late Raymond and Ethel (Pollard) Lyons of Waterville. He graduated from Crosby High School in 1947 and served in the U.S. Marine Corps from 1943 to 1945 during World War II. Mr. Lyons joined the Waterbury Police force in 1953. He was promoted to police sergeant in 1965 and to lieutenant in 1973, retiring in 1984. He loved family gatherings, his books, wine, dancing, lunch dates and his grandchildren. He was a member of B.P.O. Elks Lodge No. 265 and the VFW Mattatuck Post No. 8075. He leaves his devoted family of three sons, Peter D. Lyons of County Cavan, Ireland, Mark J. Lyons of Waterbury, and David M. Lyons of Sagamore, MA; two daughters, Pamela A. Beane of Sandwich, MA and Judy M. Donovan of Plymouth; a loving brother, Raymond “Buddy” Lyons of Waterbury; and 11 grandchildren that adored him. He was predeceased by a sister, Shirley Aparo. The funeral will be held Friday at 8:45 a.m. from the Mulville Funeral Home, 270 West Main St., to St. Francis Xavier Church for a Mass at 9:30 a.m. Burial will be in All Saints Cemetery. Friends may call at the funeral home Thursday from 4-8 p.m. Memorial contributions may be made to the Mary E. McCarthy House, 73 Service Rd., East Sandwich, MA 02537, or to a charity of the donor’s choice. The family wishes to express their sincere appreciation for the love and support given to their father by his longtime companion, Eleanore Bryan of Sandwich, MA.

Published in The Hartford Courant on Jan. 28, 2003

     Will Ye No Come back Again

The Road You Mean by P D Lyons for Brigid Walshe my friend


 

The Road You Mean 

 

today the January snow

sky a heavy dark of steel

makes those old whiskery fence posts seem black

and too the fingers of those tall swaying trees

 searching for something 

I could not see what for

until the crows came speaking your name

and I remembered

 

change is….. (Kore Chant from Starhawk) for the day that’s in it. 1 Feb. 23


Kore Chant

 

Her name cannot be spoken

Her face was not forgotten

Her power is to open

Her promise can never be broken.

 

All seeds She deeply buries

She weaves the thread of seasons

Her secret, darkness carries

She loves beyond all reason.

 

She charges everything She touches, and

Everything She touches, changes.

Change is, touch is; Touch is, change is.

Change us! Touch us! Touch us! Change us!

Everything lost is found again,

In a new form, In a new way.

Everything hurt is healed again.

In a new life, In a new day.

[Repeat any and all verses.]

 

 

from The Spiral Dance  by Starhawk

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spiral_Dance

 

 

blessed be.

The Holidays Have Come and Gone ~


The holidays have come and gone
The new year no longer new
But still the Buddha sits
In each and every heart
The still point
The peace
The home each of us has looked for
In some way or another
So how to find this heart of ours
By giving
Every kindness we give
Allows another to spend a moment
With peace with their still point with their Buddha
Likewise our gift of kindness gives us the same
Moment after moment building a realisation of who we are
320503073_702872497945384_2811455203632763107_nA still point of peace at home. With our Buddha
Thank You

PD Lyons Reads, Jack Bean’s Fox, from When You Worship Swans No Longer


PD Lyons Reading Jack Beans Fox from When You Worship Swans No Longer.
If you like what you hear I do have a few limited editions of these. Please contact pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk for details and availability. These are poems inspired by #foreabbey #westmeath #ireland #pdlyonspoet
Thank you for visiting. Good Luck Bye!

The Poet reading from As If the Rain Fell In Ordinary Time 2019 erbacce-prize for poetry.


The Poet reading from As If the Rain Fell In Ordinary Time 2019 erbacce-prize for poetry. If you like what you hear I do have a few limited number editions. Will send post paid for 20.00 euros ship world wide. For availability and queries contact me directly at pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk
Thanks for listening. Good luck Bye!
https://pdlyons.wordpress.com/

Found Those Places Left Behind A Kiss ~ by pd lyons


I found those places

Left behind

Ghost crumb tailings

Shadow sounds soft upon a poplar breeze

Freshwater landmarks unnoticed by untrained eyes

Feral flailing Exuberant heart

Unbridled moon lighting our delinquent ways

What would we ask each other

What would we tell

Or would we, beyond all good fortune

give up these years of fumbling words

Find the only thing our mouths were ever good for

.

A Wander Round Paris December 2022 a snap sampler by PD Lyons


birthday note on turning 60 by pd lyons (and now I’m 67 and feeling pretty much the same. How cool is that?) with photos


1974 crosby

1974

the old fellow near the sea

the old fellow near the sea

today ends my fifth decade. to morrow i will be 60.

the sixth decade begins at 5:54 am

bringer of the new dawn

 ever aging scorpion.

sometimes i think it has not happened

sometimes when i think of that certain little boy

i still get tears.

sometimes when i think back,

teenage, marriages, children, lovers, others –

reminding myself  of the good and of the not so very good –

reminding myself that I really  did the best I could.

but you know i am the luckiest man i know.

i have ended up in a country foreign to my birth

with a family of my own…

i  think i am in the best health ever.

no smoking for over 15 years

steady yoga meditation

and always did and still do love to walk –

there are miles of my life upon

mountains, shores, countries, continents

and  along those meandering pathways between the worlds.

and while i know all things come to an end –

as of right now i have not!

how cool is that?

cheers

.

DSC_4250

cover photo

photographer unknown

photographer unknown

He never got a gift of poetry before –


Pdlyons's Explorations

in the bright sun geranium room

across the bed

a blush with your words

for d.j.s. – compañero de armas

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