Monthly Archives: February 2016

if you want to write – 2 cents from pd lyons

if you want to write


you don’t need to prep

you don’t need the latest gadget

you certainly don’t need to wait

you don’t need to even spell

what you need to do –


write more than you tv

write more than you worry

write more than you think

write more than you know –

and you don’t need to know much.

see no matter what you do

no matter what you live

no matter what your experience

its all material

its all educational

its all inspirational

if only you will –


then read.


Train Thoughts

|Reylia Slaby|


On the train today I thought about death. Usually those types of thoughts only visit me when I am most vulnerable, that being when I am about to go to sleep. Although today at 4:00 in the afternoon while riding the train, it knocked on the door of my mind. Somehow this time, instead of being frightened, I found myself sift into a comfortable sadness. Perhaps being surrounded by strangers made me feel at ease, feeling a bond with my fellow people, knowing that despite our differences, there are always two things that we will always share with each other. Life and death.



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whiskey ruff, draft by pd lyons

nights like these

too many in a row

fire dulled my senses

sought by spirits to refine


you come like the ghost your are

through no acquired taste

through no summoning spell

just the opposite

innocent? –  never that but  bystander none the less.

and you?

there are so many of you


years have no substance

distance no space

sometimes your name is lost

not your face

never a face

or a mouth

or an activity of sexuality

the things we did,  the why we parted


and you and you and you

never would i surrender any of you to the stupidity of guilt

treasures of a life time

still love

no matter what you’d think of me


An Index of Women Poets

An Index of Women Poets from Poethead A Kira A Aíne Mac Aodha Anna Akhmatova Chris Allen I Chris Allen II Dvora Amir Margaret Atwood Candi V. Auchterlonie I Candi V. Auchterlonie II Candi V. Auchte…

Source: An Index of Women Poets

Buddha Poetry/ Poetry Buddha


… it is really important to recognize that this text is poetry and we need to read it as poetry because the quality of experience is an aesthetic appreciation, a direct experience. it is not an analytic construct. we want to use the poetry to free ourselves, rather than to wrap ourselves in ever more concepts. – James Low; Being Right Here referring to Dzogchen treasure text.

we are always wearing ruby slippers.

essence of all things is loneliness
loneliness is not what you think

we are no thing – PDL


The main point is what Buddha once said: “I discovered something profound and luminous beyond all concepts. I tried to communicate it with words, but nobody understands. So now I will meditate alone in the forest”. This verse of Buddha is the conclusion of the teachings. – Chogyal Namkhai Norbu


the duck of sport, love and compassion with  buddha

the duck of sport, love and compassion with buddha

opiates, by pd lyons

our slender youth

silver blood


night pearls

unstrung dawn

every reason in the world

 sunlight avoided


pdlyons photo

pdlyons photo

Launch date & venue for PEACEKEEPER poetry Collection – Michael J. Whelan

if you happen to be in the locality on April 13th then please come along!

Michael J. Whelan - Writer

Michael J. Whelan - Poet, South Lebanon -1994 Michael J. Whelan – Poet, South Lebanon -1994

Hi all, just to let you know that the launch date & venue for my PEACEKEEPER poetry collection, which is being published by Doire Press, has been confirmed for Wednesday 13th of April 2016 at 6.30pm at the County Library Tallaght. I’m looking forward to the launch, to seeing people holding the finished product and reading the poems, which were inspired by my tours of duty as a United Nations Peacekeeper with the Irish Defence Forces in South Lebanon and Kosovo. The poems are also about the many Irish soldiers who served in those countries over the years and will be the first collection of its kind in Ireland to do so. A big THANK YOU to Doire Press for believing in the poems.

Please keep the date in mind and if you happen to be in the locality on…

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The cover of my new book, out soon from NeoPoiesis

congratulations. i am sure that this most excellent cover is indicitive of the content. so yes i’m judging a book by its cover 🙂

poetry from the frontera


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That incompetent dilly dally winter bastard. a small story by pd lyons

She walked down the street. She wasn’t too sure what to do with herself. All she knew was, it was too cold for her hands. The skin of her hands like rose petals left in a jar of oil but perhaps too long or else not long enough either way not right because now they were coloured only by pale veins robbed by the scent meant to preserve.

She walked down the street. Each step as if she meant it more than the previous.

Anyone who saw her would have had not doubt thinking: now there goes a woman with some place to go and not to happy about it either. This was exactly true. She was sick of it. She wanted to smack winter right across the face with a stick. Send the bastard running home with a broken nose both eyes soon to blacken full of tears. Really knock enough sense into him so he’d never over stay again.

She walked through the doorway. Oak and glass door swung freely. Easily she pushed on the well polished despite the weather brass handles. She entered on the chime of invisible bells. Tiny silvery bells as the door opened and once again as it swung shut behind her. The aroma was wonderful – instinctively she took a deep breath exhaling an audible ahh. She knew she was in the right place. The air was a thing to be savoured, a rich mouth watering sensation not stopping there but spread warm and tangible into finger tips, hairs on the back of her neck ending up with a gentle but distinct thump in her heart.

She stood at the glass counter. It too was oak trimmed with brass. It took only a moment for the tobacconist to turn and greet her. She had expected him to be older than he was. She had expected him to be smiling, sparkling grey or maybe blue eyes dancing with fragments of reflected light behind the gold wire frame glasses – and he was. She thought he must be one of the last of his kind. Sadly shops like this would soon be a thing of the past. But that was the way of it, all is transitory. She smiled back at him. Asked him for what she came for.

Cigarette tobacco. No particular brand but none of that light stuff. Something full strength. Something from Holland. For some reason the Dutch always had a knack for good tobacco. Even these days when cigarettes were reduced to being the hot dog of the smoking world – basically whatever was swept up off the factory floor. It was only the stuff from the Dutch still had value. Since she was obviously going to have to use tobacco it might as well be the best. She was happy with the forty grams halfzware shag it really was a beautiful long rich blend. She was happy enough with the shop keeper and their little exchange of pleasantries. He had agreed with her completely and commiserated briefly with her, concerning the demise of quality pre-rolled cigarettes and the awful state of the weather He even had those thin rice papers. The kind you could almost see through. The kind of cigarette paper made for tobacco not for the appeasement of those hippie pot heads.

Overall she was quite happy she came to this shop. .. No not happy she thought. Not happy at all. That bastard. That incompetent dilly dally winter bastard.. Oh she was going to show him. She was going to fix him but good for driving her nuts.



photographer unknown

photographer unknown



Maria Verdi Sky, by pd lyons




Maria Verdi Sky

red bird
across snow banks

sun             the sun         the sun          the sun
       the sun              sun                  sun




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