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Creation myth from The Tongue Has Its Secrets by Donna Snyder admired & read by PD Lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

An attempt by myself to do justice to one of Donna’s fine pieces of poetry. Hope its ok. Donna!

Creation myth from The Tongue Has Its Secrets by Donna Snyder

from a series of reviews of selected poetry admired & read by PD Lyons

The Tongue Has Its Secrets by Donna Snyder 2016 NeoPoiesis Press, Seattle ISBN 978-0-9003565-5-4 (pbk) ~ most excellent cover design by Milo Duffin & Stephen Rosborough

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My poem “When the bodhisattva wept” published in Return to Mago


one of the strongest poems i have ever read. heart touching. thank you Donna!

poetry from the frontera

Paubha painting showing Vishnu Mandala (15th century). Jayateja, Public domain

O Lotus that blooms from a tear of compassion fill the air with your intoxicating scent Remind us that anywhere there is concern or sympathy for others clear water blooms When the bodhisattva saw the suffering of humanity a tear formed a lake of pure water From the clear fresh water grew a single Lotus From that Lotus stepped the compassion goddess O dear one, enlightened one accompany me on this last journey of mine for I am scared Outside my window the desert lies beneath a sun killing those who suffer the weight of all civilization on their back The air here is poisoned with toxins The water is itself a miracle each time it appears falling over my fingers yet is refuse recycled from the filth made by people just for the fact that they are human I…

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Someplace a cowboy lyric by pd lyons


Lyric

Someplace

Down on the avenue
Work ’til the day is through
I just want to get away
But you know I never do.
And when the sun goes down
I’ll be sitting all alone
Watch them old cowboy shows
On some second hand video.

Wishing I was someplace
Where grass just grows n rain is clean
Where horses run and black birds sing
Someplace where the sky is big n the only cry
From an eagle on the wing.

But I’m city bound by plastic chains
Robbed to death by men with ball point pens.
My hopes gone up in Marlboro smoke
N ghosts of what used to be my dreams
Haunt me with wondering if I’ll live long enough to ever be

Someplace where grass just grows n rain is clean
Where horses run n black birds sing
Someplace where the sky is big and the only cry
From an eagle on the wing.

Someplace where I can ride for days
N never see another human being

ruff from 2011 in eight bits, by pd Lyons


So because the day is bright and dancing outside my window I am most lazy regarding today’s blog so forewarned be best armed – what follows? 2 photos and a newishly  found ruff unpolished as if in amber piece.

’til next time

pd Lyons has left the building

edinborough scotland

edinborough scotland

 

 

25.3.11

today out on the veranda of all gone away youth whiskered timber dreams woke another coffee

1
you wouldn’t have to wait for anything to boot up
turn on or upload you could just sit down
bang away royal keys upon a cotton rag of water marked paper

you wouldn’t have to settle for crap wine, Bordeaux châteaux
would be easily accessible even to a low level pot dealer

you could get a soft pack of Marlboro that tasted good –

better than the hard pack in the days before anyone even thought of lights

the rent was 180 for five big rooms a laundry room full bath including heat and utilities

you could sit on the second floor back porch blow a joint in broad daylight watch some old ginger tom prowl around some inner city orange rose bush while the most beautiful girl you thought you’d ever know sat on your lap your hands finding ways to make her melt underneath her long gypsy soul skirt.

2.

starbuck girls go by to boys that somehow remind you to your own self except instead of love they sell schemes and plans and how to maximize income and output and the most beautiful girl in the place gives her precious attention to someone who won’t even make her come, too busy trying to sell her something that she won’t ever need on her death bed.

3.

don’t know what the reasons for the way we are is
don’t know how we got to be so far away from where we were
but there’s a time a place for everything
there’s a never ending ever changing way of everything
so they say and who are they for us to disbelieve when we can see it in our selves
we cross the street together out of step

we walk up stairs without noticing our own eyes
we can’t get on because all we want is something we remember way back there

4.

so much can happen when we live long enough
so many thing s we thought were no possible could have come to pass
but not believing in the future
did we not live grandly in the past?

my mother wanted things for me I did not believe in
my father wanted me to somehow not be a worry
my regret is only that being so inarticulate I could not explain
how I could love them but not want to ever become them

5.
cannot manage this consistency too well
I know your chimes of freedom flashing
I am the outlaw child of all these blue collar working class heroes
I am not them but am eternally grateful to them
all they gave of their own unrequited youth so that I could be the rebel born
and I will not forget you and I will not neglect you
and I will raise your soft n hidden heart to my own pure unbridled lips
my kisses unconcerned with the blood of my mother and my father
I will cherish your suffering transformation into peace.

6.
whatever went winkingly down the stairs clinkily
open and wondering wounded and proud
never more thinkingly would she be drinkingly
out on the balcony summers no more

hearts could be full of love cause the most damaging cuttingly cursingly no matter how true could never be you

7.
how many times have I thought to see you there?
after all these years – damn near 40
don’t I still imagine I come round the wooded path way bend
and by that pond somehow you’re there

ghosts haunt the places that the living know
it has nothing g to do with where they died
ghosts haunt this place where I grew up
where I first saw you naked
and you broke my heart open before I even knew I’d love you

I know I won’t ever see you now
but if promises can be made to ghosts
then someday soon I’ll meet you here again
golden apples silver apples
pine needles on a summer day patch of grass back by the old turtle pond

8.

today I do not want backward

I know there is no such thing as then or later
and now’s so fleeting it hardly exists

I know the moon
calls me on the road of no stone no sand no steps

DSC_1035

Paris France

 

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS – The Galway Review 11 (Printed Edition), April 2023


The Galway Review


CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS – The Galway Review 11 (Printed Edition), April 2023

Submission guidelines:

  • Submissions, poetry, short fiction, plays, and non-fiction or extracts, reviews, and criticism (up to 2500 words) are now being sought for the next issue of The Galway Review 11, printed Edition, (April 2023). We are also interested in receiving black and white images/line drawings for inclusion.
  • Please Note: Submissions must be sent by email only.
  • Send a maximum of 3 poems or one short prose piece, (up to 2500 words)
  • No handwritten texts.
  • Submissions should be typed and sent in Word DOC, with the author’s name on the first page, and his/her photo.
  • Submissions should include an up-to-date short (60-70 words) biography.
  • Submissions submitted by email should be in the body of the email and as a Word Doc attachment. Please send one attachment with the entire submission in one document. If these guidelines are not followed…

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Girls by pd lyons


Girls

no need of piano

rain subdued colour late summer

maybe never stopping

curtains drawn in hope

everything soft

afternoon kisses

beloved new

knowing nothing but discovery

How like dreams now

these days too

fade.

by pd lyons 2022

Reading from As If The Rain /themes ~ German short hair pointer, Victorian, Great Dane, Parrot, Manhattan Monochrome Cool.


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

!

and we still young with Drive All Night by Bruce


somewhere its night

so savour this

and remember when the boss was The Boss

and we

still young

the dark thoughts


Follow these and be amazed….

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

A poem in Vietnamese by Lê Vĩnh Tài

Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm


the dark thoughts

1.

I’m aware of the path you have chosen

in the sudden rain

.

I’m aware of the secrets

communicated in your eyes

.

you are wise and sad

through all your

dark thoughts

2.

your eyes darken when it comes to me

I don’t know if you love me

or not

.

but our shadows

shall eventually move on

like the passing years

beyond death

.

like how I will

one day die

3.

perhaps in heaven

the green path on the way up shall widen

.

time will move on

there like the leaves and we will fly

if we can’t surpass it, we will die

you’re aware that if I’m unaware

then you shall simply pass by

.

we can’t have a wedding

we are both adulterers

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‘A soft lilac’


Visionary Poems

A soft lilac 
characterised the sky 

While a pale light from a serene moon 
hovered at the edge of the scape 
Where a forlorn adieu 
of a departed sunset 
lingered in a haze of lavender 
And there was a gentle breeze 
which ruffled the tranquil waters 
that abided amid infinite benthic realms

While a shimmer 
issued by the dawning nightide
Skimmed the horizon 

As the breeze whispered 
to the frisky the sands 
and frittered them away 
For to scatter upon the moonlit seas 
their myriad grains of quartz 
Which rejoiced in a silverine glow
by the orb of night bestowed 

~ d.a.simpson ~

Image: quangle on Pixabay 

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