Tag Archives: belfast

Titanic, by pdlyons





Silent swimming cold
Tumblers of fresh water in a lost room

If I had found you instead?
We’d still be together

Unlike the brevity of death
Fucking forever




titanic belfast

The Night Mares, by pd lyons





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 by pd lyons, published by Lapwing, Belfast 2001. ISBN 1 898472 59 9


Lapwing Publications is a publisher based in Belfast specialising in poetry. It was founded in 1988 by Dennis and Rene Greig. Since then it has published over a hundred and fifty poetry collections.

Big Lorraine, by PD Lyons – a ghost poem



Big Lorraine



I dreamed my love had found me
my children gathered too
put down all their weapons
eased their hearts cried their fill
then they began to play
like they did when they were young
and when I woke I’d forgotten
all my dreaming days were done.

I went down to make the coffee
sat by the open window
ran my fingers through my hair
thought I heard somebody talkin’
voices carry on the air
birds out over the ocean
rising silver like a prayer




Big Lorraine is in Cape Breton Nova Scotia, Canada. In one of those vast woodland logics of Cape Breton, Big Lorraine is much smaller a town than Little Lorraine is. In fact I don’t think there’s more than a house or two visible from the highway.  Maybe it was different back in the day? Anyway Cape Breton is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever lived in.  There are many ghosts along the rugged coast and through out the highlands where sometimes they don’t even get a town left standing for them. So this is a ghost poem and it is obviously for Big Lorraine.

I’d say this was written in 2003 or maybe 4. A version appears in Caribu & Sister Stones : Selected Poems by PD Lyons, selected by Deirdre Kearney, Published by Lapwing, Belfast, 2009. ISBN 978-1-905425-90-7 .



Tarzan’s Totem by pd lyons from Caribu & Sister Stones, Lapwing Press




Tarzan’s Totem

Lawns of ripening parrots.

Sixteen millimetre chimpanzees.

Bone china. Sugarcane midwives.

Dry blood,

Hard on the savannah,

Volcanoing like heavens revenge.

A Pierce Arrow rotting away in the lumberyard garage;

A Quart of Muscatel tucked up in the rafters,

A slat back chair cornered with a brown webbed window,

An electric light bulb hangs.

this version appeared in  Caribu & Sister Stones Selected Poems by PD Lyons, Published by Lapwing Belfast. They were selected by Deridre Kearney and edited by Dennis Grieg. Links to the Lapwing site below –





Johnny Weissmuller (born Peter Johann Weissmüller;[2] June 2, 1904 – January 20, 1984) was an Romanian-Austro-Hungarian-American competition swimmer and actor best known for playing Tarzan in films of the 1930s and 1940s and for having one of the best competitive swimming records of the 20th century.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Weissmuller[



Maiden Lane, poetry by pd lyons


Maiden Lane

spoon-fed in the dark room

draped by butterfly hands

angels tiptoe all around

curling quiet across the bed

behind sunglasses and cups of old coffee

home to lands edge from the sea

the city stirs a brown wrapped overcoat

with room for damp cigarettes

and no place else to go

among the 4 A.M.’s.


down the block of slow return lean

one last quarter into the viewer

and there as far away as

possible, the rusted Dutch

freighter makes its way through

another sleepless night

like rain.











and four from galway bay









Sylvester Day, from Searches for Magic; Belfast, Lapwing, by PD Lyons

Sylvester Day

(West Germany 1982)

The bicycle thief of Hamburg has no arms.

She sits in the lobby, waiting.

Smoking filtered cigarettes

Held between her toes –

After the ballet would be her time :

From midnight to dawn, charms

Bicycles from their chains, frees

Them from railings and fence posts,

From street poles and the bumpers of parked cars…

Like children after a pied-piper, they would follow her.

Later, she walks agin

Those same streets alone, to watch

People holding nothing but empty chains

Where they had expected a bicycle;

The look on their faces

Prompts the true reason for her actions,

For at that moment,

So as to hide her laughter,

She could forget herself and

Wish for arms.

from Searches for Magic, Belfast Lapwing,2001

ISBN 1898472 59 9


snow by morgan lyons

snow by morgan lyons

from: Searches For Magic, Lapwing Publications, Belfast – by PD Lyons

The Good Daughter

Do not fear the world.

It will never yell as loud as your father.

It will never be as oblivious as your mother.

If you must, forgive your parents;

Not for their denying you, but

For their faithlessness which caused their

Willing sacrifice

To that god of scarcity.

Do not fear the world,

For despite all the hungry gods invented,

There has always been The Goddess.

from Searches For Magic, Belfast Lapwing,2001

ISBN 1 89472 59 9

the veil

Kisses, by pd lyons from Caribu & Sister Stones: Selected Poems


saddles loosened

reins looped round a tree

ponies nickering at rest

just enough blue breeze whispers

answering tall almost gone to seed grass

some where in that summer

that girl still waits on me

From Caribu & Sister Stones: Selected Poems, Belfast Lapwing 2009

ISBN 978-1-905425-90-7

Picture 011

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