Category Archives: pdlyons photography

the ghost mother by pd lyons


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

 

 

dawn found us wishing , by pd lyons


dawn found us wishing we could do something

when that night began to end

so i told you

the only thing i ever prayed for

was that it wouldn’t

 

did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant by pd lyons


Today

at the counter

pastrami on rye

coffee black

just off the peripheral

this guy and woman at a table

he was going on & on

you know right away

a bunch of bullshit

rather loudly too

I had no interest in him

or what he was selling

but she had caught my eye

noticed her the minute i came in

by the time i finished my sandwich

she still hadn’t said a word

he of course hadn’t stopped

people just tried to piss him off

daughter 13 years old competing already

lack of parenting by all others

ad nauseam

I asked the waitress for a refill and the check

turned to get a better look at them

maybe she was speaking by just too soft for me to hear?

but no. she was just sitting there taking it all in.

no longer interested but rather sorry for her

turned to finish my coffee

wondered how long the rain would hold off

did the Yankees still have a chance for the pennant…

razor black mirror porcelain by pd lyons


 

razor black

mirror porcelain

 

for your

rose bud

bird song mouth

I have made bouquets

 

gathering

shadow light

creatures wonderful

grotesques fortuitous

clear potable water

dark caves beneath a sunless world

secret hand fulls

tremors lolled by after glows

 

alone like ivory your room in blosom

rich solitudes of orchid

perfumed isolations

joys

with

or

without

love

i only make for you

 

 

true


 

 in the emptiness of my heart

the bliss of all beings

in those open spaces of the heart, by pd lyons


 

Where can i always meet you?

where can we always be alone?

 

those open spaces

shadow lives

summers linger

all  ghosts laugh

 

weeping is for beauty

sweet and savory.

all pain, in remedy

honey tipped restored.

 

where i always meet you

in those open spaces of the heart

 

 

 

 

The Great God Pan Is Dead by pd lyons


 

photographer unknown

 

Within the pages of illusion,

Before the glass of no reflection,

The sensuous form of her adoration,

(White on blonde)

Rises to the occasion of the

Mysterious relation between,

The pale worship of a

Vanishing god and the blue

Whispers of her blood.

As fevered as silk in cedar,

Fanatical as dew dipped spider webs;

She’s come and gone.

Her absence heavy in the spicy

Dust of death, where her foot steps

Spell out the haunting word

Amen

 

1987

truth of youth


stronger

sleeker

smarter

better

wet ourselves at the sight of each other

remembered a dream i had last night by pd lyons


 

someone i didn’t know had come to the front door

 told me you were looking for me

on horses we used to own

i couldn’t believe my luck

went to meet you

took those trails we used to take

certain that’s the way you’d come

raced the river

edged the narrow ridge

ducked low hung branches

even found

the old red barn

the wild turkey barn

the shelter from the rain barn

surprised  after all these years-

it hadn’t changed at all

 

 

poems and photos by pd lyons published by clockwise cat issue 36 “Skullwise Cat”


https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/view/56836339/skullwise-cat

 

scorpion night

THE NIGHT MARES

Restless

In a still night

No moon softening

Sharp stars

No cloud drapery.

Against this midnight

The night mares move

Sharing colour with the darkness.

What cannot find them is found by them,

There are no ways secret:

Spiraling stars leave every sky familiar,

Foraging herds by trails of green weeds

Breach every underwater sanctuary.

The night mares

Sleep standing up;

Contain any stallion,

Give birth in the middle of any weather,

Can knock bones, eyes, or internal organs out of any creature.

Simply by their passing

Men have been sucked breathless.

The night mares

Know where dragons come from,

And who, mothered by seas and singing desert sands,

The twin birthed are.

In languages that the thunder knows,

They answer one another.

Navigating easily unbridled,

No boundary deludes them.

Yielding, the only response they know.

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

this first appeared in print in Searches For Magic Lapwing Press Belfast

 

 

 

How Long My Unfitting Skin, The Night

 

she had come down from Gunnison

it had been a hard ride

thin air refusing to support her

old shoes needing to be thrown away as soon as possible

~

met for drinks at The Last Chance

she told me brief stories 

life in the wilderness

ways of ghosts and proud flesh

we booked a room from the man who wore a star

~

make believe log cabin

steel spring mattress

Jim Beam on the bed side

we smoked silent shapes up at an invisible ceiling in the dark

I was happy to be there 

thought she was too

~

but somewhere after moon light

she had gotten up

kneeling by the drifty window

to whatever she prayed

all i could make out was –

 

How long my own unfitting skin the night?

 

 

thank you clockwise cat!

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