or forever hold your peace. a photo essay by Morgan Lyons 2016

c Mogan Lyons 2016

 

the golden age of silence

c morgan lyons 2016

c morgan lyons 2016

 

c morgan lyons 2016

Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre – Dame 2016

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

Altar of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Notre – Dame

TALL SHIP – a poem by Michael J. Whelan

Michael J. Whelan - Writer

Tall Ship – Mikey

TALL SHIP

 for Mikey

The sun brings out the colours.

From my back garden seat I view a tall ship

half way through its long voyage,

journeying across my teenage son’s bedroom window,

sails catching a strong wind,

he is away from us.

My daughter dances in the kitchen,

she doesn’t see me catch her moves,

the radio plays to her spirit.

My wife is a poem,

she reads her book on a sun-chair.

A robin redbreast studies me from the roses as I write.

Lots of sparrows have arrived

and the dog is chasing shadows.

He will come home again, soon.

Michael J. Whelan

Included in the forthcoming ‘Virginia House Writers’ 20th Anniversary Anthology,’ 2016 edited by Maria Wallace.

Mikey – Tall Ship

This poem was written a few years ago when my son Mikey had been away from home for few days. Over…

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Hope

lovely

Felicity Johns

11

Nebraska held few landmarks before the blast. We navigated then by corn and wheat fields, by the occasional mail box, the direction of the power lines, the heavy smog to the east that indicated metropolitan life. The road I took to work each morning took me straight in, no twists, no hills. It was a hike, but I wanted my kids to grow up in the open, to understand that life wasn’t about always being entertained.

Ellen used to take the water glass Linny would fill for her, and sip it. There was a dirt wallow in the side yard, beneath a spreading old hickory that had been struck by lightning twice during our tenure, and she’d sit in the dirt and dig down through the poor top soil. She’d dig until she found something like clay. Then she’d add some water and work it tirelessly. Sometime an hour…

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Paris Pour Shelly, poem & photography by pd Lyons

Shelly Paris 2016

Paris pour Shelly

he

would not

would not

would not

could not

without her

no way

no reason

no point

.

Paris 2016

 

Bonsoir Le Rêve

lemanshots - Fine Pictures and Digital Art

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How like dreams now the days too fade, dream poem by pd lyons

Pdlyons's Explorations

Last night I had a dream about you.

Nothing major.

We just met face to face.

You were telling me about my grandmother.

We were outside in the sand.

I was surprised you knew her.

I  never knew she went to Mexico.

It was hot.

We sat down at a rough grey whiskery  table.

Yes, you said and she rode very well.

A bright grey horse among the caballeros.
“And tequila ?” I leaned towards you tete-a-tete  ” What about  the tequila…?”

But the scraping sound of speeding traffic brought me into this morning.

And I wondered Why Mexico?

I was always a bit afraid of Mexico –

Suddenly Last Summer

We don’t need no stinking badges,

Maryse Holder Give Sorrow words,

Comacheros,

Decapitations decorating the highways…

But when I was a kid –

Zorro.

Bands of silver trumpeters.

Hat dancing.

Cielito lindo.

raw silver jewelery, grumpy looking straw cowboys…

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For Tedra, by pd lyons, music by grateful dead w lyrics credited

Pdlyons's Explorations

For Tedra

Briefly
as everything is in this life
we shared slapstick
and manic
some
unforgettable
wonders
and still all those questions never to be answered.
now knowing this,
something quiet,
peace descends,
a lacy feel of breath
not deep
not in or out
but
there
.

China Cat Sunflower
Lyrics By: Robert Hunter
Music By: Jerry Garcia

Look for a while at the China Cat Sunflower
proud-walking jingle in the midnight sun
Copper-dome bodhi drip a silver kimono
like a crazy-quilt star gown
through a dream night wind

(note 1)
China cat
China cat
China cat
China cat

Krazy Kat peeking through a lace bandana
like a one-eyed Cheshire
like a diamond-eyed jack
A leaf of all colors plays
a golden string fiddle
to a double-e waterfall over my back

Comic book colors on a violin river
crying Leonardo words
from out a silk trombone
I rang a…

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so i’m thinking about stupid love songs again ruff by pd lyons

Paris 2016

 

you might love me

you might stand by me

you might be my friend

maybe even my lover

 

you cannot set me free

 

you might think of me all the time

you might want to always be by my side

you might dream your life away

sounds kinda creepy

 

but no matter what

you cannot set me free

 

you might know better than me

you might shout louder than me

you might be more physical than me

so what you’re a bully

but no matter what you do you cannot set me free

 

you might be all sweet and tender

you might be just what i like

you might be the one i love

that be more than alright

but still no matter what you do

no matter who you are,

you cannot set me free

 

freedoms what i give myself

freedoms what no one can take

freedom not dependent on any one or any law

its what i give myself

my own true heart

no one can touch or take or know

but me

Paris 2016

For All The Sylvias , by pd lyons from Myths Of Multiplicity

Pdlyons's Explorations

from the recently published Myths Of Multiplicity. Erbacce-press, Liverpool UK. If you order from Erbacce then not only is postage free

but all profits will directly benefit Erbacce writing co -operative.

http://www.erbacce-press.com/#/sales/4528051110

For All The Sylvias

sometimes our Odysseus hearts
slip all those sailor knots

sometimes life, not appalling,
rather free – so free we can choose to fly

we have not always carried
flaming skulls of anger
sipped curdled clots of blood

we have not always harmonized
harsh heavy dogs of our dismay
gristled our own lovers

sometimes we have slipped clearly,
breathless and perfectly certain
beyond all mysterious constraint

sometimes we do not come back.

sapphiric no more
golden filigree no more
sun dress polka dots
tall G&T’s
heart shape sunglasses

our children pail and shovel the beach
their laughter, their chatter
muted by waves
grown more distant,
ever more distant
.

from the recently published Myths Of…

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