Pdlyons's ExplorationsOld Shirt
days
walking laying
sleeping eating
over-steamed radiators
warm spells February spring
But
the colour is good
fit is right and when I catch myself
passing mirrors in hallways
bathrooms
shop windows
turned off televisions
Stop
and/or
glance
who am I
breath caught a moment
Old shirt smell
still me
still who I was
and am now
in need of a shower
as published by The Legendary http://www.downdirtyword.com/authors/pdlyons.html#ps
~
war
it all begins in a small room
a bathroom
a shower stall
a butcher shop
an abattoir
tiled
under a clear bulb
shadows held
breath sharp stop
mechanically pursued
always in a small room
angular
women
children
men
animals
fluid in release
Nature gives us lot of beautiful gifts like flowers, fruits , plants and trees .
Have a look on some mini flowers bloom in my home garden.
Happy Gardening. Have a beautiful day.
So here’s the next one from Lessons… Back in 1983ish I did get to travel to what was then West Germany. Spent a January in Hamburg with excursions to Vienna, Lubeck and other winter wonderlands. Then in 1990ish I got to learn how to ride horses. So this poem puts the two worlds together. Hopefully in a way that makes more sense that this pre ramble. cheers.
Billy The Kid in Hamburg
On the run from what he didn’t know
Brought his six guns, slid down his hat, Night robbing trains by lantern light.
Secret señorita homesick for palm trees & tequila
Small stories of her Badlands youth
Explains to him the length of her long legs
And how she knew she’d never have his kids.
Down in the Reeperbahn*, softly smoking Cigarettes he didn’t know how to roll, so she did.
As if hot grog and sailors would deter him from whatever treasures he’d go back for.
And she’d hear how he’d gone for some golden princess steeple swayed,
Belief in orthodoxy still strong especially when so far away from home
Until eventually surrounded by things even he could not deny,
Wrapped his pistols in dirty laundry packed in a trunk,
Trusted to the stations of trains, fortune of strange ports.
Back in the land where he was born.
Severely betrayed, nearly captured on the river
Escaped by some woman so strong she scared him
But from whom he learned to ride –
Life of horses, Long constantly moving horizons,
Real living breathing freedom between his legs.
And whoever couldn’t understand his guns, Abide the smell of horses
Take those chances freely offered, wouldn’t they still love him?
Lead him to parlours, boudoirs, Soft green grassy banks secluded by whatever river –
Until once more his own true nature breaks their law?
*Reeperbahn ~ The Reeperbahn (German: [ˈʁeːpɐˌbaːn] (
listen)) is a street and entertainment district in Hamburg‘s St. Pauli district, one of the two centres of Hamburg’s nightlife (the other being Sternschanze) and also the city’s major red-light district. In German, it is also nicknamed die sündigste Meile (the most sinful mile) and Kiez. The Reeperbahn Festival is among the largest club festivals.
This is the first poem from the collection, Lessons on Western Riding by PD Lyons. Many years ago I spent some time working/living/loving with horses. The poems represent the many aspects of that relationship. Selected from poetry written over the past 40 years or so. Hope you find something to like here. My intention is to post the whole manuscript more or less on the blog. Good luck. Bye!
~
stray song over the kitchen radio
old photo tucked in a book that for no reason I’ve picked to thumb through
I hardly let it pause me
I usually just keep going
occasional it happens
my old bones do an old ache
glimpse that crooked clavicle in the bathroom mirror
hardly let it pause me
usually just keep going
occasional it happens
strong scent of well-oiled leather maybe someone’s coat
packed tight on the morning train
mists trough the damp windows
shadows moving up the hills
hardly let it pause me
usually just keep going
occasional it happens
but you know sometimes when it does
I just don’t feel like moving
stay right there face the tears
yeah, sometimes I miss the horse days
sometimes I just fucking do
another delight with lovely art work
Morgan Knows
The night has its own creatures
Familiars like foxes, bats,
Owls, green eye cats
And others more unique –
Those without a day time shape
Shifting shadow colour forms
Billow through dissolving walls
Entwine upon her outstretched arms
Fed on darkness through the night
Until there’s nothing left but light
~
theres no place left to walk
there no where ever to go
and whatever might need doing
sure it’ll just get un done
so maybe there is this kitchen
maybe the coffees ready
and all the sun that hasn’t shined
decides to forget about winter and
hang around these windows instead
what could i do to tell you
what could i say to show you
one day when we were not yet old
didn’t we have so many things to do
and despite all that busy we still found out who we were
but now at the end of music
now close to the end of time
now that i’m just on my own
seems like loneliness is ok
some new girl on the stereo
reminding me
a few minutes
to remember
a few minutes beyond regret
you and me
once young
once upon a time
maybe you ‘ll come by
before its too far gone today
i’ll put more coffee on
i’ll share these new tunes with you
and the sun will smile even brighter
or maybe its just me
a bunch of yellow flowers in a jug
a sink of dirty dishes
an old pointer dog greeting you with what was silent tail wag
so
white onions, black slate, tomatoes in a crockery bowl on an oak table with hen
Hen image from the cover of Chickens The essential Guide by Suzie Baldwin, Photographs by Christian Barnett, published by Kyle Books 2012 London.
In my opinion a very very excellent book on hens and all things hennish.
 | Edward-David Ruiz on Now Safe in Snug Harbour, (som… |
| Edward-David Ruiz on your body is not an enemy… |
 | pdlyons on Women Buying Guns In America,… |
| Edward-David Ruiz on Women Buying Guns In America,… |
| pdlyons on On My Mother’s Side, poe… |
