Pdlyons's Explorationsthe poet pd lyons reading from the erbacce – poetry prize winner 2019 As If The Rain Fell In Ordinary Time.
on todays menu
~
For Molly
When I Lived on West Main
Jenny
themes ~ German short hair pointer, Victorian, Great Dane, Parrot, Manhattan Monochrome cool.
thanks for joining in.
cheers
GLB
!
the poet pd lyons reading from the erbacce – poetry prize winner 2019 As If The Rain Fell In Ordinary Time.
on todays menu
~
For Molly
When I Lived on West Main
Jenny
themes ~ German short hair pointer, Victorian, Great Dane, Parrot, Manhattan Monochrome cool.
thanks for joining in.
cheers
GLB
!
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
the poet pd lyons reading from the erbacce – poetry prize winner 2019 As If The Rain Fell In Ordinary Time.
on todays menu
~
For Molly
When I Lived on West Main
Jenny
themes ~ German short hair pointer, Victorian, Great Dane, Parrot, Manhattan Monochrome cool.
thanks for joining in.
cheers
GLB
!
the poet pd lyons reading from the erbacce – poetry prize winner 2019 As If The Rain Fell In Ordinary Time.
on todays menu
~
For Molly
When I Lived on West Main
Jenny
themes ~ German short hair pointer, Victorian, Great Dane, Parrot, Manhattan Monochrome cool.
thanks for joining in.
cheers
GLB
!
As the events of 2020 put paid to my intention to promote this book via live readings etc. I have decided to simply read the book in order on short videos. I believe the work should be heard and hope to make that happen here. Thank you if you have for listening. cheers pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk. These first tree are based on my urban youth. Waltzing the Night, Promised Land, Today You Want to See Priscilla ~ c2019 pd lyons
holding ourselves like prayers between each other
all summer sway cool tall screened windows
bright sound crickets fireflies glimmer
bare feet, beating hearts
soft by each other’s breath
accented full moon kisses
beyond any daytime horizon…
~
it was one o’clock this morning.
woke up no reason
kitchen floor so cold I hurt for shoes
stood there adjusting to Frigidaire light
three bottles of beer on the second shelf
opened one by the window
chugged away to those long
hard rain halos
it’s not the city I used to know with you
maybe I go for another
maybe it’ll help me sleep
probably not
these days once I’m up
even beer can’t touch me
deserted by even the small comfort of your ghost
still I sway as if somehow
we’re dancing
14 stories up
Sometime after all the twilight zones had ended
Crane my head twin tower view.
Count all the windows I could see that held a light
Another smoke
Watch across the west side highway for freighters
Illumination not of a land locked sort proving an Island after all.
I could not help the way we burned through our time together
How hungry I was
How urgent that you be hungrier.
We left it spinning, the world we knew
Our ragged selves
Cities of our hearts
Wilderness of our bodies
Ghosts of unborn children
Smoke cross the promised land –
What could we give that had not passed?
There was that old Pontiac
Yellow primer Firebird.
Day into the drink already.
Gonna drive to the city.
You said you had to pee first.
You kicked open the door, got out
Instead of going in squatted right there.
Deluge beats over the black top.
Got in a row over that.
For some reason it really pissed me off.
Then in ever escalation you said something.
Whatever it was it made me so sorry for yelling.
I hugged you, cried all over you.
We got better after that.
Dried off, had a smoke.
Then I drove.
She lives two blocks up
from where you have to live with your father
because Priscilla is crazy, and you couldn’t
stay with her.
Priscilla makes her money from the cards. But
whenever you ask her to read yours, she always says
she knows you too well and that knowledge
clouds her wisdom.
You want to go up to her today, watching from
her cool back room through a crack in the door –
Priscilla, her rich fingers fat with bands of gold and sparkling stones
spreading cards by candlelight
speaking to some stranger in that different kind of voice even you would hardly know.
You’re on your way but then Carey has himself a dollar
So, the afternoon gets spent at Daz’s where pin ball’s still a dime
and sometimes you play good enough to pop for extra games
nyc pdlyons
from the tiredness of my bones
not syllables of warm water mouths
rather emanate rich with marrow silent sensations
hot cold
soft foetal
crescents of your ears
depth deeper than you know of your eyes
the vast rift of tears
your endless heart
alone sometimes in the dark
I have been a labour for you
silently aloud
likewise you should read
these words so unlike other words
each window through which invisible creatures
of what cannot be said climb
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
The Avalon Girl
Met the darker double born.
Held her heart out to the heat.
Cut the braid from her own uncut head,
Gifted to his reckless wild hands.
Soon carried on to summery lands.
First crossed wastelands of the East.
Met a man who brought her peace.
Golden daughters dakini schooled.
Then rested into holidays & grandchildren,
Feasts begun to cook the night before,
Full house wakes up to a heaven scent.
And of her torn heart, spoke to none.
And of heat, preferred now a cooler Colorado sun.
And of her gifted young girl braid,
Remembered keen how the stupid jerk misplaced it.
But whenever she saw black upon the green.
Whenever 7 roses red appeared.
Whenever she saw the grey eyed sea.
No matter from which continent or shore –
Oh, she’d lose a heartbeat or two
And Avalon she’d think of you.
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