Monthly Archives: December 2020

Those Long Always Summer Huge Silver Moon Nights the Colour of Your Soul Because They Are.


 

 

And you could reach out for my hand and I would take it

And you could whisper me questions and I would answer

And you could open my mouth bringing breath to me

And I the same with you –

A gift of moon

 of soul

of all those long always summer nights between us.

The Ways of Sitting, by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

acrylic on paper pdlyons

The Ways of Sitting

A mans hands ~

on a woman’s thighs

One on each rolls them out

A better view of what he’s dreamt for so long.

Muscular even in yielding

She allows her deep breath body freely.

Outside women ~

talk how the year slips

School days into holidays beginning school again.

A woman in love writes her name ~

Moon soft ivory

Pale sky

By the Buddha

By the open window

Major piano chords

A simple charm

Like where in dreams we can’t be hurt.

A man begrudging poetry ~

Leaves out such things as joy

Hopes a mirage of his own making

Hides in clothes made from mistaken identities

Secrets like superman behind caped crusades

Although blurred some character always lurks

Despite the roles he thinks he should,

He thinks they want, he thinks he must.

A series of figures exchanged through out his life

Even…

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remember to remember ~ happy new year!


Lord Of The Dance
by
Sydney Carter
 
I danced in the morning when the world was young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees
They wouldn’t dance, they wouldn’t follow me
I danced for the fishermen James and John
They came with me so the dance went on
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame
They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high
Left me there on the cross to die
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
I danced on a Friday when the world turned black
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body, they thought I was gone
But I am the dance, and the dance goes on
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the life that will never, never die
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
 
(These lyrics may or may not be copyrighted!)
 

How The Green Witch Loved The Winter Man by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

How The Green Witch Loved The Winter Man

When the green Witch met the Winter Man he was obsessed with another woman. He said to her, “This is the way. All I ever love retreats from me. Trees drop their leaves, water shrinks dares not move. The earth herself covers and hides. In all my travels all my searching all I’ve found was this woman of the wind. She stirs me, promises she will someday stand still in my embrace, then she flies… But, tell me about you. Who are you that comes to meet the Winter Man?”

With this invitation the Green Witch stretched out her arms so he could see and said, “I am keeper and protector of all that grows – herb and flower, fruit and tree, bringer of peace and healing. I am of the magic of each seedling poking through the soil and too the…

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We have All Touched The World With Little Fingers ~ Christmas ~


here’s the thing –
the people prayed to God;
deliver us from evil,
from oppression,
poverty,
war,
pestilence,
all this misery.
And hearing their prayers
god sent an answer.
But it wasn’t a king,
an army,
a weapon,
a political party,
not even a religion –
but rather God with all the power and the glory
answered their prayers
with a child

Remember to Remember

Thank You & best Wishes for the New Year


Sometimes in this writing life
people take the time to listen, read
and let me know they did
sometimes even write a few words in response ~
As writing is by its nature a predominately isolation occupation
I just wanted to express sincere gratitude to each and every one who in one way or another participated with PD Lyons Explorations.

With best wishes to you all for a very happy, healthy & safe New Year!
Cheers!

paris by pd lyons

Title Piece from newest release


WORSHIP SWANS NO LONGER

When you worship swans no longer

Will you find your way to me?

Smoke rising in a breathless voice

Winding between shade and sun

 A dream begun on dew drops

  Daring midday like a ghost

Vowing never to fly

From your embrace

Special First Edition Limited to 150: each numbered and signed by the poet.

Price includes worldwide shipping by regular post in padded envelope.

15.00 EUROS

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)

“PD Lyons work stands at the threshold so loved in Ireland. That almost magical, almost mythical, almost otherworldly parallel that the Irish dip in and out of. Where we chose to believe in luck and superstition and destiny and embrace these as tangible factors in our daily lives. – from the forward by Una O’Neill D’Arcy, Journalist/Freelance Writer

Thank you in advance for supporting this project!

Lover of Wisdom from As if the Rain fell in Ordinary Time read by the author


new haven ct artist not known

   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 moustache

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 w/ 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 of the jeep

Pretending to be too busy

Waiting for her to come to him.

But after their long good-byes,

She didn’t.

He walked around saw her walking

Down the hill with her bags

He thought – she has not come back at all then.

     Shortly later she came back.

Sat with him on the grass

Her black hair veiling them

As hunched together head to head

He opened what she gave him

Wrapped in white tissues

A ball of crystal inside a ball of alabaster.

   I missed you so much he said.

Are you brave enough to let me shave you? She said.

Come on. Let me. I want to.

He had not shaved since she left

And her creamy skin could not abide a whiskered face

Thank you for watching!
Here’s what erbacce press had to say about my work – 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! … 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)
Through the generosity of Westmeath County Arts Council a special signed edition limited to 50 numbered copies is being offered for 20.00 euros. Regular postage included world wide. Contact via comments or email pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk for availability and further details.
Thank you for watching and reading!
Best Wishes & Good Luck – Bye.

As If The Rain by pd lyons from The Women Retrospect


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As If The Rain

Emily Dickinson used to sneak out.

Sometimes in day light, mostly at night.

Tip toeing carefully down the back stairs

Even though nobody else was there.

Always a hat a shawl or a veil

To keep the neighbours off her trail.

Walking along the streets of the town

Glimpses her reflection among dry goods and gowns

And in the shop she has been seeking makes her purchase from a little man who has always honoured their agreement

And never Miss Emily’s secrets revealed.

Bag of tobacco, skins and matches snapped up in her bag.

While wrapped in brown paper knotted with string – a bottle of port

tucks under her wing.

Emily Dickinson used to sneak out.

Later that night she did it again.

Carefully tip toeing down the back stair

Even though nobody else was there.

Making her way out to the train station,

Counting the stars as she sat on the bench,

Named new constellations while she was waiting.

A shudder of sighs defined by an overcoat of stains

he sits down beside her.

Rodent hands desperate in deep dead end pockets

Until, rusty knife retrieved by one opened by the other

String and paper, slit and peeled

Turbulent mouth not spilling a drop.

Until eased back against the slats.

Things he knows he tells her ~

Crossing the country by freight. Tin can meals around a fire.

Men who only knew for certain that they’d not meet again.

Bones broken by horses. Bayonets emerging from a fog.

What it’s like on the other side of the ocean.

Names of young girls, young men.

Who might be living? Who might be dead?

And sometimes, only warm smoke shapes between them linger

As if the rain would never come again on a Tuesday night in Amherst…

Wrote this in the late nineties.  Sent it off with a few others to a small Irish poetry magazine called Brobdingnagian Press (if i remember correctly) the pun was that each issue was one sheet of broad sheet paper with small poems printed all over it. Any way this was much too long for it although the editor was kind enough to accept one or two of the shorts. The embarrassing part was that while he appreciated the Amherst poem, being an aficionado of Emily, he did suggest that i might want to spell her last name correctly when sending to other editors.

anyway we had a bit of a laugh over that, Em and I and then went down to the waterfront. it was autumn and a storm was heading in….

a version of this poem appeared in The Yes Factory first issue 2012  https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B58yt4q1_WOpenRMa3RCczVqMlE/edit?pli=1

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A Barlow Knife. words and photography by pd lyons


at that time the knife he carried with him was a Barlow

she noticed it as they sat by some small unnamed body of water

he was making slices off the few good wild apples they’d found

she said oh a Barlow?  you have a Barlow knife?

my dad had one. he always had it with him. he used to let me use it.

sometimes we went fishing,

sometimes he let me cut up apples too.

when he died my brother got it.

that night he drove into town

went into the sporting goods shop

picked out one for her

not exactly the same as his

not heavy and bone like her dads

but a ruby red

two good blades

trimmed by a bit of brass

it was the only thing he ever gave her

besides long deep kisses

slices of secret wild apples

spiced by an Indian summer

haunted by an early winter

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