Author Archives: pdlyons

Brief bio:
Originally from the states, (Waterbury, Connecticut) but liking it here for the past ten years in Ireland. Spent a few years before that in Cape Breton Nova Scotia – great winters there for writing. Travelled a bit, worked a lot, and raised two wonderful children as well as horses (Morgan, Andalusian, Thoroughbred, Irish Sport Horse) in U.S. and Ireland. Have worked as a dishwasher, floor washer, textile mill labourer, construction labourer, pesticide sprayer, fire safety inspector, toy shop manager, women’s shoe shop manager, substance abuse counsellor, etc. currently working on new poetry collection :”The Women, a 46 year retrospective in poetry”
Cheers
Caribu & Sister Stones published by lapwing belfast
via
http://www.freewebs.com/lapwingpoetry/

 P D Lyons Winner of the 2119 erbacce-prize for poetry


Thank you to the judges and to Erbacce Crew. I am humbled and honored by this. Cheers Alan!

 P D Lyons Winner of the 2119 erbacce-prize for poetry

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! Below is the book we produced for him… 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: 112pages)

http://erbacce-press.webeden.co.uk/p-d-lyons/4586525519

 

Through the generous support of  Westmeath County Council a limited edition of 50 numbered and signed copies are available to purchase direct from the poet at €20.00 to include standard postage world wide.  Please click on the cover below to order via PayPal

LyonsCover

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There Is No Need To Believe by pd Lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

unknown photographer

What is discovered

is beyond doubt

what is discovered

is beyond choice

free from duality

is certainty

belief has nothing to do

with what is

the teacher shows

the steps

the student takes

the walk

the teacher shows

a way

the student who goes

knows

there is no need to believe

DSC_0499

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Garbo’s Garage , by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

photographer unknown photographer unknown

Garbo’s Garage

Pontiac
No other reason
Than liked the ornament
Lush blob chrome

Streaming back
Noble savage
Sometimes
Put her mouth
Around it

No shelves
No Tools
No Debris
Velvet finish floor
Silver dollar oil spot
Otherwise dry as a bone

gretagarbo photographer unknown

garbo forever

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20 September 16, ceremonies of the horseman ruff by pd lyons


 

prisoners haunt the hallways

 

opportunities regretted

 twists turns past lives

I didn’t want to leave

only dry hollow husks

blown reluctant to participate in my one and only treasure.

 

 I lived in a time

when women sat beside me whispering on back porch landing’s

 interrupted by neighbours running down the stairs

 hands wet beneath Danskin purple skirts

she spoke of how in past or future it didn’t matter which

I was her child she the mother

 knowing I would go on to crucifixion

suckled me with saltwater glistening breasts mingling milk

into my hungry hot house mouth.

 

were there ever other places other days,

freedom? confidence?

 a mouth full of meat?

a belief anything was possible?

 

 

 

I stood with someone once at midnight

 not just a time but the place

 a place where midnight born and lives out in each of us.

The place of my mid night?

 sometime in October out there by the water

breath rising in smoke, dew soaked shivering pirate breath kisses

 

 I called you cypress by moon light,

 buccaneer beauty I chose

 there in the place of my own midnight

 you but not you rather the you of what you ever were.

 

 I called you Guinevere by moonlight

 lay down with you there

 in the place of our own midnight

 among cold Halloween coarse grass

surrounded by stolen beer bottles

 a dwindling hedge barely separated from the street.

 

The only promise I ever kept?

 never a mathematician or carpenters’ wife.

I have not even now more years than miles can tell – broken that promise.

 

Sometimes I forget I made it,

sometimes I forget to congratulate myself for not breaking it,

sometimes I try to barter it, threaten to turn my back if somebody doesn’t pretty soon pay me for it.

 

 But I am not the famous rebel, not the muse’s figure head –

quietly steadily I am only the keeper of my own promise

born from misguided Madonna’s introduced by white women to the place of my own midnight

 

I have never stopped; I have never turned back.

 That’s all I have ever really done with all that treasure which was my life.

 no big deal but still, something real. no surrender, no slipping,

no disparity of one who broke the only promise ever truly made.

 

Yes, still writing. Yes, still the poet.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

there will be a time when I walk alone no possibility of interruption, no sense of anything but wonder. ready to go anywhere – I will alone step upon a beach of star dust, a twilight evening morning without distractions of any sun rise. Body resembling translucent moons encircled with rings like Jupiter silver oh you know what I mean.

 to walk alone totally alone; the great adventure that. every step a holy ground, every step unknown places beckoning without distraction. the only one around, me walking without reluctance across the universe. And when like some great invisible hand reaches out  cupping me as if my whole body but a sweet lovers cheek, the last eyes I see before I know of eyes no longer? my own reflected back across an endless sky as if in kissing my own self one brief momentary glimpse of the Krishna that is and always has been me.

No longer afraid, narcissism the enduring aspect of the world in the jingle jangle mornings I have followed and loved only you.

 

.

 

 

Mr. Tambourine Man. B. Dylan, Bob Dylan Live 1975. Play it while I die if I die quietly or lingering otherwise at my funeral.

 

the ghost mother by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

the ghost mother

disappeared

as if each son

spontaneous

generated

upon this dominated land

 

sticks of war

lures of porno

century

after century

 

yet still there are some

knowing they are the mothers sons

dare to say –

i love you

artist unknown/pdlyons photo

paris 2016/ pdlyons photo

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Women We Should Know – Elizabeth ” Brave Bessie” Coleman


Pdlyons's Explorations

th

Born on January 26, 1892 in Atlanta, Texas, Bessie Coleman was one of 13 children to Susan and George Coleman, who both worked as sharcroppers.   http://www.biography.com/people/bessie-coleman-36928#awesm=~oF0BOHRrIMTtVR

Elizabeth “Bessie” Coleman (January 26, 1892 – April 30, 1926) was an American civil aviator. She was the first female pilot of African American descent[1] and the first person of African-American descent to hold an international pilot license http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bessie_Coleman

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYYy-dT44

bessie-coleman

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Old freighters ruff, words and photography by pd lyons


Old freighters splocked red with rust

Holds haunted

cagros exotic, mundane, contraband 

list easily into slumber

yet unable to refuse

invincible the call

return once more

unable to refuse relentless the shipping lanes

J.C. Bluez, by pd lyons


from hook songs

Pdlyons's Explorations

J.C. Bluez

when Jesus was a little baby boy
sittin’ on his mommas knee
he said dear momma
(I) wish these people wouldn’t want to crucify me

now Jesus turned the water into wine
could make the blind man see
but he couldn’t change anything at all
when they hung him on that tree

so if you get to thinking
you gonna change the way things are
just remember the lesson of ol J.C.
before you even try

DSC_8611 The Kent Ct. Lily

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sometime when i cry, words by pd lyons, photograph by morgan lyons, music by Raveonettes


 

 

Sometime  I will surrender all the hard hear life

Sometime I will understand courage has nothing to do with anger

I will remember your face and smile

I will remember your touch and smile

Allowing just the experience of happiness

Allowing just that experience

Surrendering the need to go further

Staying just for the brief soft moment of love

Not needing the hard heat strength to go beyond

 

Queens 1985, by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

she dreams her grandfather tries to kill her with a knife

her grandfather killing a girl very bloody with a knife

hitting the walls until her hands bleed

it doesn’t matter

let them bleed

let me die

bacon I believe bacon I believe

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