change is….. (Kore Chant from Starhawk)

Kore Chant

Her name cannot be spoken

Her face was not forgotten

Her power is to open

Her promise can never be broken.

All seeds She deeply buries

She weaves the thread of seasons

Her secret, darkness carries

She loves beyond all reason.

She charges everything She touches, and

Everything She touches, changes.

Change is, touch is; Touch is, change is.

Change us! Touch us! Touch us! Change us!

Everything lost is found again,

In a new form, In a new way.

Everything hurt is healed again.

In a new life, In a new day.

[Repeat any and all verses.]

from The Spiral Dance  by Starhawk

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spiral_Dance

blessed be.

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.

Rumours of King fishers, poem by pd lyons from darkness work in progress

 

 

 

Rumours of King Fishers.

can you ever begin anything at all?

never mind again

white walls

white linen

duvet pillows sheets

white lamp

white floor boards

radiator door

&

pale as milk

kiss

black  Japan lacquer

all night eyes

smooth long whisper

curve of ahh’s

to not call it ocean

that which we call ocean would be?

to not call it mind

that which we call mind would be?

to not call it I

that which we call I would be?

sometime ago angels

leapt up in summer time

yellow gold

all one

w/ human kind

of course looked like love at first

then became lust

by try as they must could never get off

though happily multiple

the women went nuts

 

 

The Road You Mean by P D Lyons for Brigid Walshe my friend

 

The Road You Mean 

 

today the January snow

the sky a heavy dark of steel

made those old whiskery fence posts seem black

and too the fingers of those tall swaying trees

seemed to be searching for something 

I could not see what for

until the crows came speaking your name

and I remembered

 

The Green Tea & I by pd lyons

The Green Tea & I

ghost  birds around the feeder

not yet knowing they

do not need to anymore

greet the morning

On My Mother’s Side by PD Lyons

“On My Mother’s Side” by PD Lyons read by Author From “Caribu and Sister Stones” published by Belfast Lapwing 2009 ISBN 978-1-905425-90-7

Off The Book Shelf/ Poets We Should Know

So the other day I picked this little gem off the shelf and re-discovered Robert Louis Stevenson – the poet. I have had this book for a while now maybe 10 – 15 years bought it some where in America for .25 cents. It has only two poems by RLS; Requiem and The Vagabond. I think they both show just how ballsy a poet he was. Today as I was putting this blog together Shelly  posted on my face Book page about Tom Crean the Irish Sailor & Antarctic explorer. The inscription on Toms grave – Home is the sailor, home from sea. You can still drink at Toms Crean’s Pub ( he opened a pub once he retired from the sea) The last time I was there they pulled a very fine pint.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Louis_Stevenson

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Crean_%28explorer%29 

THE GOLDEN TREASURY

of

Songs and Lyrics

selected from the best songs and lyrical

poems in the English language

and arranged with notes by

FRANCIS T PALGRAVE

London

MACMILLAN 7 CO LTD

new York St martin’s Press

1959

Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me;
“Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

The Vagabond

Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above
And the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river –
There’s the life for a man like me,
There’s the life for ever.Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around
And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
And the road below me.Or let autumn fall on me
Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
Biting the blue finger.
White as meal the frosty field –
Warm the fireside haven –
Not to autumn will I yield,
Not to winter even

Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I ask, the heaven above
And the road below me.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Silvester Day, by PD Lyons

Silvester Day

(West Germany 1982)

The bicycle thief of Hamburg has no arms.

She sits in the lobby, waiting.

Smoking filtered cigarettes

Held between her toes –

After the ballet would be her time :

From midnight to dawn, charms

Bicycles from their chains, frees

Them from railings and fence posts,

From street poles and the bumpers of parked cars…

Like children after a pied-piper, they would follow her.

Later, she walks again

Those same streets alone, to watch

People holding nothing but empty chains

Where they had expected a bicycle;

The look on their faces

Prompts the true reason for her actions,

For at that moment,

So as to hide her laughter,

She could forget herself and

Wish for arms.

~ 

 

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