Category Archives: Uncategorized

this spring ( for mara) by pd lyons


 

always willing to go

always yes, never no

protector of my daughter

her first time home alone

 

days so grey I couldn’t imagine telling any one else about –

you were my only confidante

 

where you are now

i don’t know

but there’ s this place in my heart

where, whenever i call,

i know you’ll come

 

do dogwoods grow in this country?

if so  this spring i’ll plant one where you lie

 

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When I’m a Ghost I’ll Haunt the Beach w/ My Mother by pd lyons


Tide comes

Stronger now

Still myriad suns

Roll upon the silver breakers

 

Day like the tide

Has turned

Inevitable in it’s

Priceless way

 

But for now lingering

A little longer

Simply sitting in the sun

Breathing by the sea –

Not waiting for anyone

 

When I’m a ghost

I’ll haunt the beach

With my mother

 

The little bay

Where she’d sometimes stand

Looking out over the Atlantic

Imagining

 

I’d tell her its OK

Anyone with that many kids

Would imagine

 

I’d tell her

Everyone’s doing well

Everything worked out pretty much OK

 

The we’d stand

Look out over the sea

Imagining

Forever

 

 

Thank You, by PD Lyons, as published by A New Ulster #29


Pdlyons's Explorations

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I was very happy that Amos Greig chose this a one of my pieces appearing in the #29 issue of A New Ulster!

Not sure when I first discovered Gabriel. I had known of his existence superficially. I was lent copies  by English majors back in the 80’s I think. Sat on my self til i gave them way. Any way years later – not quite a 100, I discovered/experienced one of the most wonderful artists I would ever know. The lush mystical worlds – the most wonderful novels I have ever read. And I would say that,  English literature was being saved by a man who wrote in Spanish. This is a poem I wrote on occasion of his death and my sitting out the back at my home in rural Ireland in the company of a fine Cuban and an exquisite bourbon…

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Thank You

My first cigar of…

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true


 

ever onward something goes

Poets that we love


who else could make guitar sound like the sun?

Pdlyons's Explorations

Standing on the moon
With nothing else to do
A lovely view of heaven
But I’d rather be with you

Songwriters: GARCIA, JEROME J. / HUNTER, ROBERT C.
Standing On The Moon lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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Sweet Old World by Lucinda Williams


Paris by pd lyons

 

See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world
The breath from your own lips, the touch of fingertips
A sweet and tender kiss
The sound of a midnight train, wearing someone’s ring
Someone calling your name
Somebody so warm cradled in your arm
Didn’t you think you were worth anything
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world

Millions of us in love, promises made good
Your own flesh and blood
Looking for some truth, dancing with no shoes
The beat, the rhythm, the blues
The pounding of your heart’s drum together with another one
Didn’t you think anyone loved you
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world [Repeat: x4]

 

Written by Lucinda Williams • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

Immortal Beloved, by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

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Immortal Beloved

There is no such thing as Beethoven in Waterbury.
No one sees him buying race forms or cigarettes at Bauby’s corner.
He doesn’t play pin ball at Dazz’s,
chalk a cue at Gentlocks, pan handle a concert crowd at the Palace theatre,
order Blue Ribbon shorts at Backstreet’s or sit in Dresher’s after three sipping cool tall dark drafts.

He’s not protesting the war at Library Park,
selling acid from the Kingsbury hotel,
falling asleep on Christmas eve with a girl named Mary in the chapel of St. Johns church.
Strung out girls don’t get to build snowmen on the green with him
Mattatuck music can’t hire him to move their stock
and the old man at Palace Liquors can’t argue with him any-more.

Hare Krishna’s can’t get him to do their chanting.
Doorways where he stood out of the rain for hours are empty or are gone.

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“How could I have known that murder could sometimes smell like honeysuckle?” Double Idemnity


BEGUILING HOLLYWOOD

Definition of film noir

plural

film noirs

-ˈnwär(z)or

films noir

or

films noirs

-ˈnwär

  1. :  a type of crime film featuring cynical malevolent characters in a sleazy setting and an ominous atmosphere that is conveyed by shadowy photography and foreboding background music; also:  a film of this type

First Known Use: 1930

See Words from the same year

When I am benumbed [14th c.] by the news I just adore [14th c.] a deep dive into language.

Source: the fabulous Merriam Webster.

How is everybody? Another few weeks of summer and then…?

I have been in a mood [12th c.]. Though I’ve tried to keep focused and continue work on my novel in progress. This past week we’ve been dealing with a roof rat infestation (I would plant a veritable forest under the eaves of my house, and a glorious wisteria vine—that I now have axed—otherwise…

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Poet as someone I envy


Pdlyons's Explorations

there are not many poets that i envy – but here is an example of a piece of work that makes me wish i had been born this man. Also included a stunning reading of it by Liam Clancy

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Mary Hynes

(The most beautiful woman in the West. Padraic Fallon translation
of the Anthony Raftery poem)

That Sunday, on my oath, the rain was a heavy overcoat
on a poor poet; and when the rain began in fleeces
of water to buck-leap like a goat, I was only a walking
penence reaching Kiltartan

and there so suddenly that my cold spine broke out
on the arch of my back in a rainbow;
this woman surged out of the day with so much sunlight,
that I was nailed there like a scarecrow.

But I found my tongue and a breath to balance it,
and I said:

‘If I’d bow to you…

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Today Is Tuesday ( sometimes in this writing life 2 )by pd lyons


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Today Is Tuesday (Sometimes in writing Life 2)

have to cut back on the computer
it’s pretty bad
hours of my life a day sucked away
nothing done
neck aches wrist aches
contacts dry fall out of my eyes like pieces of glass

from now on check in once a week
cater to those fan-based minions
socialize with those multitudinous faces
post a plog upon the blogs
once a week
maybe Mondays

got dressed drove into town
picked up a case of Lebanese red
two bottles Tyrconnel
litre of un-oaked Chardonnay for cooking
stack of legal sized pads,
and a few pounds Italian coffee

Today is Tuesday
I have liberation to celebrate.

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