Monthly Archives: September 2018

Before The Growing Season Of Grass by pd lyons

Pdlyons's Explorations

Kent Leopard , Kent Ct.Lilly Kent Leopard , Kent Ct.Lilly

Dreams Before The Growing Season Of Grass

by pd Lyons

Not early enough
The day already begun
Anyone with any place to be
Already there or else so late not worth fretting about.
Brand new bus half empty
At least two hours to go.

No ghosts dance over the river.
No diamonds tip the foliage.
From  dark shapes emerge;
A girl you used to know
Leads a horse you used to own
Liver chestnut
White star snip
Bucks rears dares

Once your brown hands could do anything:
   Melt the mouths of untried horses,
   Finalize another divorce,
   Set fence posts well bellow the frost line.
   Pull sunglasses from a girl,
   Hold her slight surprise,
  To kiss and kiss and kiss
  As if  there would never ever be anything else to ever do again.

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The Kent Lily

poetry & photography by pd lyons


In the Language of Flowers, It Meant We are Already Dead



Beside whatever water there was there

Over flowing bowl an undulate of green tendrils

Draped swan songs

Left morning a capture of sorrow

She reached out to nothing there

She reached out to something ridged

Pulling itself from her heart

In and out

A pornograph of pain

The table set with only bones

Memories picked clean

A criticism of cutlery

Every single question ever asked –

A useless pointlessness recycling

white onions on black slate photographs

Rumours of King Fishers, by pd lyons

Pdlyons's Explorations


Rumours of King Fishers

can you ever begin anything at all?
never mind again

white walls
white linen
duvet pillows sheets
white lamp
white floor boards
radiator door
pale as milk
black as Japan lacquer
all night eyes
smooth long
curve of ahh’s

to not call it ocean
that which we call ocean would be?
to not call it mind
that which we call mind would be?
to not call it I
that which we call I would be?

sometime ago angels
leapt up in summer time
yellow gold
all one
w/ human kind

of course looked like love at first
then became lust
by try as they must could never get off
though happily multiple
the women went nuts


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Artemisia – Absinthium poetry by pd lyons

Pdlyons's Explorations


The red spiders with long legs

Do not fear her

As they make their way around the worm wood

Knowing this is home.

From foraging into damp shade

They come with tender spider joy

Happy to be safe.

Knowing if they trespass

Her milky white wrists

They will be met

With only laughter


Picture 170

poem originally published by Lapwing Press, Belfast in the book Searches For Magic by PD Lyons 2001

photo by pd lyons of a  poster in the Casa Bacchus Wines Litchfield Connecticut

a most excellent place to explore and indulge in

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The Woman, by pd Lyons as published in A New Ulster # 30

Pdlyons's Explorations


The Woman

I could not speak.
Maybe loved more gently
I could have.
Maybe if there was a moon
I could have.

But only sun –
a crazy glue
lips sealed
slays weds

This is what I cannot say,
this is what they refuse to hear:
After death is pre-natal.
Through me,
everything is world.
Without me?
Conception is by eating,
birth by excretion.

The International Women’s Day issue of A New Ulster one of Northern Ireland’s online Journals featuring the works of Marion Clarke, Helen Harrison, P D Lyons, Marie Lecrivain Judith Thurley and Mari Maxwell and many more

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

my daughter’s work

Pdlyons's Explorations

c Mogan Lyons 2016 c Mogan Lyons 2016

the golden age of silence

c morgan lyons 2016 c morgan lyons 2016

c morgan lyons 2016 c morgan lyons 2016

c morgan lyons 2016 c morgan lyons 2016

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What Better Places To Go Be Spiritual? by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

sometimes we forget to go

sometimes we forget the land needs healing

the dead cannot be denied, nor should they

sometimes we believe by hating we will heal

sometimes we believe by fear we will over come

I cannot do this

I refuse to do this

I will go to every Auschwitz, every slave pit, every Hiroshima, Guantanamo, wounded knee, Normandy,

every Nanking every Tibet every Gaza strip

every lepers broken heart

I will not turn away

not for all the political correctness in the western world

and to all those who ask

all those who demand

all those who threaten

I’ve nothing to say –

‘cept fuck you and your cowardly way


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Had A Dream About Clint Eastwood, by pd lyons

Pdlyons's Explorations

we were doing something with horses

not riding or roping

just putting our hands on them

feeling the sunlight through them

and smiling

Picture 011

  • as published in Fresh Ink Literary Magazine 2013

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