Monthly Archives: November 2015

Lovers w/ the Cello Player, by pd Lyons as published by A New Ulster Magazine


Pdlyons's Explorations

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Lovers w/ the Cello Player

envy of every straight male
hugged by those knees

arms for which the word sinew was invented
hands entwined by pure blue vines

exquisite needles drawn from every inch
spread through
return to

our randomly occurring bodies
until this moment never knowing anything

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Photo Credits :

1) morgan lyons, The Arming and Departure of the Knights, one of the Holy Grail tapestries http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_Grail_tapestries

2) pd lyons – unknown artist, Wasworth Atheneum, Hartford CT.    http://thewadsworth.org/

https://sites.google.com/site/anewulster/issue-twenty-nine

 

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June Six Blues, by pd lyons (old songs)


sometimes i wax lyrical

Pdlyons's Explorations

June Six Blues

don’t know why I’m still standing’
don’t know why I just don’t let go
maybe there’s such a thing as heaven
so might as well hang on

nobody knows who’s right
so I guess I must be wrong
for believen’ in true love
they put the blame on me

there’s the baby on the table
grits are on the stove
my mama and my daddy
both lay beneath a stone

people say I’m bad
now I never meant to be
guess I had to learn the hard way
difference ‘tween a man and me

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Music from the US – Morphine


one of my favorite groups. sadly gone too soon

World Music - the Music Journey

Morphine was an American alternative rock group formed by Mark Sandman and Dana Colley in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1989. They disbanded in 1999 after frontman Sandman died of a heart attack.
Morphine combined blues and jazz elements with more traditional rock arrangements, giving the band a very unusual sound.

Their song “You Look Like Rain”

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truth


 

   truth needs no violence

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Courage – a fierce and terrifying band of samurai…


Pdlyons's Explorations

COURAGE

A fierce and terrifying band of samurai was riding through the countryside, bringing fear and harm wherever they went. As they approached one particular town, all the monks in the town’s monastery fled, except for the abbot. When the band of warriors entered the monastery, they found the abbot sitting at the front of the shrine room in perfect posture. The fierce leader took out his sword and said, “Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know that I’m the sort of person who could run you through with my sword without batting an eye?” The Zen master responded, “And I, sir, am the sort of man who could be run through by a sword without batting an eye.” – as told by Sylvia Boorstein

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true


if you notice there’s nothing like a monster or monstrous situation to bring out the most beautiful of humanity. stay true. the Hitlers and the Trumps and the murderers of this world are not the majority. that’s why they yell so loudly. do not believe that any people are all the same – see the acts of heroism, the acts of compassion the acts of peace – this is true courage. this is not bartered away to gain security, goods or the power of public office.

courage does not change its moral foundation under pressure. millions of people on this earth are like that.

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Baskin-Robbins, poetry and photo by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

Baskin-Robbins

Sixty- two Chevy pick up
Bondo dust and shot exhaust
Your brother driving 84 east
Neil on the radio
I smoked a million cigarettes
So you wouldn’t try n kiss me
Not cause of that but because your brother already wanted to kill me
Was only driving me to Waterbury
So I wouldn’t have no excuse
To hang around you

Cowgirl in the sand

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The Lover Of Wisdom, by pd lyons – the 4.5.11. version


currently doing a final edit of “women retrospective” and this is one of them.

Pdlyons's Explorations

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The Lover Of Wisdom

He helped in the kitchen

while she was away.

   One night he was worried about the wine

her father noticed, told him

not to worry

they said it was the best place they’d been to

that they were glad to be here.

besides it was the second bottle they’d ordered.

It was then he grabbed her father’s hand, said

Are you my friend? Are you!

The towering man with black mustache

in a well-worn greasy apron said

Always. I am your friend always!

   It was evening when she came back.

He was sorting pots from the green house

packing them into the jeep

parked at the top of the driveway

when they pulled in

BMW convertible dark blue with tan leather

   He did not want to meet her friends.

Afraid they’d hear the beating of his heart

he stayed on the other side…

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Immortal Beloved, by pd lyons – This is the poem of my youth


Pdlyons's Explorations

best american beer ever

So this would have been written early 70’s  and revised steadily through the ensuing years. This is the poem of my youth, at least my high school years 1970 – 74. Went to Crosby high school in Waterbury Ct. In those days it was located down town. Needless to say the small industrial city was an instrumental part of my education. Learned to shoot pool ( a little bit anyway) in Gentlocks – old slate tables scarred by decades of cigarettes, table legs as wide as me, and no girls allowed. Learned to panhandle from Charlie brown and Whitey ; enough for some cheap port a pack of smokes and maybe a little orange sunshine for myself – was a good afternoon.  Dazz’z was the pinball arcade – just next door to the pool hall. Dom’nNicks the by the slice pizza joint – 35 cents one large slice and a…

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For Ursula by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

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many years ago, sitting in the smoking section of the Silas Bronson library Waterbury ct. read a few books wrote a few things. read some poetry by Joyce Carol Oates and then some essay by Ursula Le Guin. one of the poems i wrote i sent with a fan letter to Ursula. she was kind enough to respond saying the poem hit her right in her “major response zone”. something I never forgot. thirty some odd years later a version of the poem was published in an Irish magazine called  The SHOp a magazine of poetry; #9 summer: //www.theshop-poetry-magazine.ie/

Below is the letter and the original poem which she so graciously commented on:

Letter to LeGuin.

I didn’t want to read anything LeGuin had to say about writing. I knew her words would press on me, drawing me back into the writing mania. I was right. I shouldn’t have…

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