Pdlyons's ExplorationsSometime I will surrender all the hard heart life
Sometime I will understand courage has nothing to do with anger
I will remember your face and smile
I will remember your touch and smile
Allowing just the experience of happiness
Allowing just that experience
Surrendering the need to go further
Staying just for the brief soft moment of love
Not needing the hard heat strength to go beyond
“Bless your poet then and let him go!
He’ll never stack a haggard with his breath:
His thatch of words will not keep rain or snow
Out of the house, or keep back death.
But Raftery, rising, curses as he sees you
Stir the fire and wash delph,
That he was bred a poet whose selfish trade it is
To keep no beauty to himself.”
and adapted by myself as good as ever expalination as to why i write
There is also a rival theory of the origins of Santa’s paraphernalia – hid red and white colour scheme, those flying reindeer, and so on – which is more fun, less commercial, more scientific and somehow more appealing ( possibly because it is politically incorrect). Patrick Harding of Sheffield University argues that the traditional image of Santa and his flying reindeer owes a great deal to what is probably the most important mushroom in history: fly agaric (Amanita muscania). Before vodka was imported from the east, this was the preferred recreational and ritualistic mind-altering drug in parts of northern Europe.
Each December, this mycologist, or fungi expert, dresses up as Santa and drags a sledge behind him to deliver seasonal lectures on the fly agaric. The costume helps Harding drive home his point, for he believes Santa’s robes honour the mushroom’s red cap and white dots. Commonly found in northern…
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and would I know
the winter
still sliding down
silvering the window
soft whispers
smoke secrets
between
the kitchen fire
and all those winter fires gone before
each ghost arrives upon the gale
welcomed here beside the hearth
each breath of my own
rare and gifted by such drifters
One for the winter days. Hope you all like it. Special thanks to Morgan for the video. From the collection of PD Lyons poetry, When You Worship Swans No Longer.
.
When You Worship Swans No Longer: Poetry by
by P D Lyons
Poetry inspired by the village of Fore County Westmeath and surrounding areas of Ireland, by an Irish American poet.
Special First Edition Limited to 150: each numbered and signed by the poet.
Price includes worldwide shipping by regular post in padded envelope.
20.00 dollars US/15 euros Ireland/20 euros rest of Europe/15. sterling
Items shipped upon receipt of order (purchase through Paypal)
Contact: pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk
With your shipping information and any queries.
Additional inscription on request.
(Numbered books selected randomly)
,
Thank you in advance for supporting this project!
Got to go visit my daughter in cork city for her birthday shes attending uni there. train down from Dublin. So there was this woman…. and this is from the scribble notes….
as if never having seen
before
fingers such as these
elong both hands
explored tip by tip
by opposite
selected by a
pearl pink mouth
each taste slowly reminding her to herself
on this train
traveling alone
wherever she was going
i didn’t know
pdlyonsphoto
holding ourselves like prayers between each other
all summer sway cool through tall screened windows
bright sounds of crickets fire flies glimmer
bare feet and beating hearts
soft by each others breath
accented by full moon kisses
rising beyond any day time horizon…
it was one o clock this morning.
woke upno particular reason
didn’t even need to pee
kitchen floor so cold I hurt for shoes
stood there adjusting to Frigidaire light
three bottles of beer on the second shelf
opened one by the window
chugged away to those long
hard rain halos
it’s not the city I used to know with you
maybe I go for another
maybe it’ll help me sleep
probably not
these days once I’m up
even beer can’t touch me
deserted even by the small comfort of your ghost
still I sway as if some how
we’re dancing
mix-med collage pdl
All my life of lingering lies
Each and every single one
A point to point of indelible regret
So dig in deep and hold your mark
Squeeze the trigger, don’t black out
Ain’t that a fitting way for it to end
Slow and steady always just a mere formality
I could only follow where the strings were pulling me
Like the nagging of my mamma
And the raging of my pa
Those class rooms full of things I couldn’t really understand
And those laws that seemed only to apply to me
So dig in deep and hold your mark
Squeeze the trigger, don’t black out
Ain’t that a fitting way for it to end
And where’s the love like in those songs
And where’s the joy of that gospel god?
The fame and fortune like in those magazines
Fulfilling all those promises made by my TV screen
All those things…
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Happy to share with you one of the poems appearing in As if the rain fell in Ordinary Time. A collection of my work published by erbacce-press . I was honored and humbled by their selecting me as the finalist of the erbacce prize for poetry 2019. (Details to be found below.)
This is my first foray into the video recording world but not the last. Intending to do more with my own work and once we perfect the jitters and my delivery a little more , the work of other artists..
Anyway thank you for reading and for listening. hope you enjoy it. This one is for all you horse lovers out there!
And a special thank you to Shelly who guided me through the high tech end and had the patience to go through more than a few bloopers
Cheers!
The annual erbacce-prize for poetry is open from January 1st to May 1st every year. It is entirely FREE to enter thus it attracts top quality poets world-wide… in 2019 we had close to eight thousand entries and all were judged ‘blind’. P D Lyons was the outright winner! Below is the book we produced for him… it is sheer quality poetry, the whole book encompasses a simplicity coupled with deep insight; a truly beautiful collection which reveals more each time it is re-opened… (perfect-bound: 112 pages)
http://erbacce-press.webeden.co.uk/p-d-lyons/4586525519
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