No Matter What, If I Sit Still, There is Peace

 

 

No matter what,

If I sit still, there is peace.

Today’s offerings:

The sun brought warm gold

The sky unlimited sapphire

Cloud white pearls

The birds rainbow song

The water in my glass pure crystal

A breeze soft cool silk

My eyes brought seeing

Ears – hearing

Nose – scents

Mouth – tasting

Body – feeling

Mind – thinking

Breath – breathing.

Awareness – Ah

My heart – practice

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April 14-15 Part 2

April 14-15 Part 2

Today he drove only to Marconi beach. P-town would have been too far. At the entrance a park warden was stopping cars. Now what? But the officer was very friendly wanted only to advise them that yes the beach was open and there was a controlled burn going on and no need to be afraid or call the fire department. And are you here for the Titanic memorial Ceremony? If so its over there. yes you can just  go to the beach. Its a beautiful day for it. Their drive had been uneventful, stopped for petrol and bottles of water just the other side of “suicide alley”. Yesterday he joined the child in the water off Race Point. It was cold it was fun it was the big giant ocean! The wife had time to read and snap a few photos of them turning purple. Today cooler, windy-er but the made it down the wooden steps out to an almost deserted shore knowing that as soon as base camp was established they’d spend time trying to duplicate the day before. The water was indeed freezing colder that at Race Point yet they stayed in longer. Once she said to him “This is the most fun ever!” he knew he’d stay in with her until they froze to death or she gave in and wanted to get out. It was dark by the time they made it back to Sandwich. He decided to take them to the canal see the water by starlight, maybe a ship or two lights drifting through the black. They got out of the Jeep just as a fishing boat put in. Lets go see what they got he said. The child agreed. So they walked over to the Annie Wilder. There were two men and a woman aboard. Hello. He explained how they wanted to know a little bit about fishing boats and how the nets worked. The younger of the two men explained a little. No it wasn’t a good day he said. Flounder he said. They showed them a tub full, neatly packed white belly up all looked the same size. There weren’t many tubs at all. Does she like fish he asked. Morgan never met a sea food she dint like he told them.  Just made some fillets. Would you like some? and he was away. I don’t have any cash he told the woman. Did you ask him to sell it to you? No. Wouldn’t have sold it to you even if you had he said. Here you go. Just wish us luck for tomorrow. There was about two pound of pure white medallions. The next morning the child made a picture on a black piece of paper, surrounded by silver ovals, silver flounders all around the Annie Wilder.

April 14-15-16 part 3 How Big is the Heart of a Child ~

 

April 14-15-16 part 3

Muffins and earl grey at Beth’s Special Teas. Cape Cod sunny Sunday wind pure fresh walk the little strip East Sandwich shops, still missing the Herb Shop but our gratitude is high for the tea Shop haven from all manner of Dunkin Dodo swill. Hot chocolate for the child. What to do with the last few hours before the drive back to Connecticut? Paradise Liquor for a 1.75 litre bottle of Bombay for 31.00. Sam’s fish shop on the canal bag of shelled scallops large as your tongue. My eleven year old daughter fascinated by the lobster tank. Can we get one dad? Can we? No. Why not? Cause I don’t want to kill one do you? No. Well then what’s the point of getting one? We could let him go. Now my daughter wants to do a Buddha thing and save this creatures life and I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to talk her out of this do I? She gives me that look, the crux look, the scan of a child reading every inch of my body, verbal and invisible language, searching for the parental cue. Is this an acceptable idea, is it not? Remember whatever you do will affect me for the rest of my life. I stall and say well you’ll have to use your own money. She says OK but its in the car. And I must  surrender with, that’s alright give it to me when we get back. So she picks out Lucky the Lobster. Out to the Jeep fish out a pair of work gloves from the back, use the Gerber to cut the bands from his claws and we all three walk over to the edge and I toss him into the canal. She can see him swimming – he’s OK! Just before we drive off seat belts belted everyone ready small fist full of single dollar bills reaches over the seat – here dad. And I think how big is the heart of a child. And I take the bills stuff them into my shirt pocket and say thank you.

 

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The Israel Of My Heart, by PD LYONS

 

The Israel Of My Heart

 

stares like a stranger

sometimes from doorways almost in the rain

sometimes through haloed moonless streets

unable to make peace

unable to articulate

engaged none the less

the Israel of my heart

flows like tears

through my each and every step

 

how can I meet this darkness all alone?

it is through weeping not muscle

such chains are broken

 

 

 

The Orphan As Adult by PD Lyons, from In Protest 150 Poems for Human Rights. Read by the poet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was very proud to have this poem included in the Human Rights Consortium and the Institute of English Studies and London-based poetry collective the Keats House Poets Anthology 150 Poems For Human Rights. I submitted it along with The Diary – a poem in response to Anne Frank.  https://pdlyons.wordpress.com/2014/06…  While published in 2014 it was written contemporary with the second National Geographic photo of April 2007. ~

The Orphan As Adult by PD Lyons, was written upon seeing the famous National Geographic cover photo of the grown up Afghan girl who was herself originally on the cover as a child during the Russian involvement in Afghanistan. Twenty years later and not much has changed.

 

The Orphan As Adult

my eyes were not green for you
I did not rebel or lead
never even learned to read.
children dropped from me
in a pain no one cared about.
my years marked by long days and short lives.

as if expecting greeting, you return.
as if your photographs meant something
other than a young girl momentarily annoyed
her world same now as it was then
a place where things just are the way they are.

my eyes were not green for you
only an accident of birth
same as your own.
                                                       For Afghanistan

 

 

 

Description

Edited by Helle Abelvik-Lawson, Anthony Hett and Laila Sumpton. Published 2013. ISBN:9780957221032.

Detailed Description

In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights is an anthology of new poetry exploring human rights and social justice themes. This collection, a collaboration between the Human Rights Consortium at the School of Advanced Study, University of London, and the Keats House Poets, brings together writing that is often very moving, frequently touching, and occasionally humorous. The 150 poems included here come from over 16 countries, and provide a rare insight into experiences of oppression, discrimination, and dispossession – and yet they also offer strong messages of hope and solidarity.

This anthology brings you contemporary works that are truly outstanding for both their human rights and poetic content. Arranged across thirteen themes – Expression, History, Land, Exile, War, Children, Sentenced, Slavery, Women, Regimes, Workers, Unequal, and Protest – you will find within this collection a poem that inspires and engages you. ‘Poetry brings tiny details to life, and in a world where human rights is mostly about reports and abstractions, where real life and real details are lost – poetry can still make us see, and feel.’ – Sigrid Rausing.

The Missing Mare by PD Lyons

 

 

I went

rain splattering

glad for good boots

 a proper brimmed hat

I went

grass mud

wire fence

wooden gates

strained for sign or sound

missing mare heavy with foal

urging me on

 

 

(found this ruff in an note book from back in the horse days long long ago in the dream time hope its not too bad for you all)

In Her Glow, poem by pd Lyons. Photograph by Ron Scubadiver, Freelance Journalist

used with the permission of the photographer

 

 

in her glow
we sit pretending
so many things

like we are not old

like we are not imagining
warm alabaster
against our dark skin
fiery silk her hair
between our sure and steady fingers
a scent of jasmine
through the open windows of a moonless night
all infusing
all reviving
her fire our youth

no we are not thinking that at all

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So for several years now I have been lucky enough to be following Ron Scubadiver’s Wild Life – a great photo journalist blog  https://ronscubadiver.wordpress.com/

A few days back i came upon the above photo. For some reason it really struck me and i commented that it was inspirational. And then i wrote down the above on the spot. Just a little ruff bit that i kinda like and a good excuse to share Ron’s photo and invite you all to check him out

ghost of the nun who kissed me by pd lyons

new haven ct artist not remembered by photographer pdlyons

down the hallway

all asleep

whispering

into the library

out over the city

windowed clear stars

on a moonless night

me

too

unwilling

to let go

 

Today A Day For Mothers, Rightfully So,pd lyons

Today A Day For Mothers, Rightfully So

but I want to tell about those other days
like every time I see my daughter
especially how she has those
dark brown eyes

Days when I whistle or sing
though my own voice so much harsher
still my love of music comes from having heard you

And now these days of early spring
when each flower I can name
I learned their name from you

The birds I feed,
mornings in the garden
even blue jays, even crows –
joy of which I learned by watching you

and how many other everyday things?
so many more, so very many more…

so sure, you’re not “here” today
at this restaurant
clinking glasses sparkling wine
but inwardly I take my own inventory
grateful for this life
how all the days of it
truly are my mother’s days.

 

for Flora

 

 

 

When I’m a Ghost I’ll Haunt the Beach w/ My Mother by pd lyons

for the day that s in it

Pdlyons's Explorations

Tide comes

Stronger now

Still myriad suns

Roll upon the silver breakers

Day like the tide

Has turned

Inevitable in it’s

Priceless way

But for now lingering

A little longer

Simply sitting in the sun

Breathing by the sea –

Not waiting for anyone

When I’m a ghost

I’ll haunt the beach

With my mother

The little bay

Where she’d sometimes stand

Looking out over the Atlantic

Imagining

I’d tell her its OK

Anyone with that many kids

Would imagine

I’d tell her

Everyone’s doing well

Everything worked out pretty much OK

The we’d stand

Look out over the sea

Imagining

Forever

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