Slow Moon by pd lyons

Slow moon miles

Ran rain bent

Poplar pine remembering snow

Flickery yellowy butterly light

Echoing  breath long windows washed

As if by my eyes

‘

almost cold as snow, a place soft, unknown of any soldiers

Rags to our faces

Rages on our heads 

Rags round our feet 

Rags dipped into shimmering sun light

dripping cold liquid water

soothing cleansing awakening

our whispers

our weeping

our prayers

answered finally with silence .

Life As We See It

todays lesson is –

Kaushal Kishore

One day a school teacher decided to do an experiment with the children in her class. She asked them to bring a bag of potatoes after writing the name of the persons they hate, on each potato. The next day, each child brought their bags with two, three or five potatoes.

She asked them to keep their bags closed for ten days with them at all times. As the days went by, the children started complaining about the stench of rotten potatoes. On tenth day, when they were told to throw their bags and assemble, children breathed a sigh of relief.

The teacher asked the children how they felt about taking care of those potatoes. They complained that it was very difficult for them to carry the stinking bag with them. Then the teacher said, “Hate is like potato, it pollutes your heart. So it’s wise to forgive ones you…

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Split Seconds, from Bella & Shirley by pd lyons

Pdlyons's Explorations

Split seconds

I saw the horrible red rose bloom upon her chest
heard the splatter from her back
then the rifle crack.
Our eyes meet
she whispers Bella
as she falls manages to grip my arm
pulls me to the ground
just before the next bullet
harmless ricochet.
I scramble hands and knees
Shelter among the rubble.
She had taught me well.
No point in trying to spot the sniper
the point – survive.
Hands , knees, sometimes flat on my belly
safety among the ruins.
Once again I am alone
Once again I have lost
But this time there is a difference –
she  taught me well
likewise armed me well
named me  from her blood stained mouth – Bella.

Bella, once she’d whisper with each kiss.
so she whispered with her death and once more gifts me life.

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Atlantic Seascape by pd lyons

the overwhelming wave

leaves me like a cork bobbing

on a sunny sea

my father, my mother, Yeats, golden apples & silver apples – reading by PD Lyons

read by PD Lyons poet~

The Song of the Wandering Aengus by WB Yeats & Somewhere Still by PD Lyons

The Song of the Wandering Aengus by WB Yeats from Eveeryman’s Poetry, J.M. Dent, Orien Publishing. London 1998 Somewhere Still by PD Lyons from When You Worship Swans No Longer Limited Edition, Supported by Westmeath County Arts, 2017

 

The Song of Wandering Aengus

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

Source: The Wind Among the Reeds (1899)

.Noun. 1. Aengus – Celtic god of love and beauty; patron deity of young men and women. Angus, Angus Og, Oengus.

SOMEWHERE STILL by PD Lyons

Somewhere there is still a place, you sitting in the sun, concrete porch paving slabs, Cape Cod Grey picnic table, small summer savages running jumping clinging – immune bare feet impervious to sun. Skin frosted with salt, lotions, cake icing.
Somewhere children still take your hand, invite you to cross the street walk with them down to the beach, taking them sometimes instead to lunch…
Long-time companions, comforts of old age, afternoon naps, books, TV, mail order catalogues, big band music and too those ever-dangerous memories – love, marriage, a hole never in twenty-three years has time healed.
Somewhere she still takes you by the hand. Ohs your name laughs into the open window, Fifty-five Chevy, summer bright chrome. So close to flying great American V8 highways up through the Canadian border dwindling into heavy Nova Scotia sands.
There has never been an ocean too cold for her to swim in. Long after your retreat to safety – Flamingo towels, Knickerbocker beer, USMC Zippo, Old Gold cigarette spiral prayers. Gratitude at last. Unable to fathom any reason to feel bad about surviving.
Deep breath wonderful (not a god damn palm tree in sight). Watch that woman of the sea; only wish there would never have to be a time to leave.
Later she gets tipsy; acquiescing when the waiter offers to sweeten her drink no knowing here to sweeten means more liquor. Out on the dance floor, hold each other tight as you want because she’s your wife now and you always liked the Mills Brothers.
Sometime after midnight, small cedar room, Stuart tartan blankets, crisp white sheets. Strange night sounds traipsing gingham curtains. As if tiny fingers, she ohs your name. Answer back with words you never knew before.
This spring by the sea your little house will not find you. Gone now perhaps to wander just like W.B. said –
Glimmering girl once more beside you and pluck
Till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
(For: D.R.L. – with regards to W.B. Yeats, his favourite poet.)

This Is How We Live from Bella & Shirley by PD Lyons

Together we sleep in one another’s arms.

As if that safety protects us from the world.

Between our breathing and our heart beats

all the brutality of the day

each night melts away.

And should the world find us so vulnerable?

Our accord is this;

always our side arm within reach.

Our promise,

to deliver each other into the protection of death

freed forever then from harm.

This is how we live

Now

This is how we love.

he stood with wailing tempest, pd lyons

he stood with wailing tempest

against the unjust world
as if a howling protest
could bring insanity to sense

he thought the problem
was they couldn’t
he saw how clearly
that they could
his heart broke by their simple truth
not couldn’t but wouldn’t