Tag Archives: canada

Mira Gut by pd Lyons as published by Lost Sparrow Press


 

There are no flowers here but snow.

The bay not yet free chunked with ice

the white of which exists only against a distant liquid sea.

at least the sun visits, comforting,

illusion though it is,

visions of thawing, melting down to something green.

 

In the long sleep of winter, I have dreamed

something Spanish that you said along a twilight turquoise

something soft covering sun drenched shoulders

silver threads   an old man’s harp

played for money by the moon

 

The Lost Sparrow

http://lostsparrowpress.com/shop/#!/The-Lost-Sparrow/p/86541732/category=0

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The Extent Of His Youth, poetry by pd lyons


the extent of his youth

up the road to the next town

with a girl he knew from high school and her kid

grey clap board bungalow

breakers on the rocks below

reminding him only of working boats.

he loved that kid more then he loved anyone

took her out for sweets and ice cream at the corner shop

taught her how to skate and hold a hockey stick on black ice lakes

almost ended up in jail trying to get that Barbie House for Christmas.

eventually she left him.

bottoms of too many bottles between ‘em.

never heard from her again.

but got  letters from the kid.

eventually dwindled through the years.

now an almost annual event.

doing good .

miss you so much.

when can I see you?

how come I cant see you?

finished school .

moved away from  mom.

someday I’m gonna come see you.

just show up, you’ll see.

we’ll get together.

never forget you.

just like a real dad to me.

 

pdlyons pix

pdlyons pix

 

this was published April 2010 by Boyne Berries 7  http://boynewriters.com/index.html

Canada, by pd Lyons as published by The Corner Club Press ( 2011)


 

 

thank you very much to corner club press for publishing this little piece of my Canadian heart. They are still actively publishing – check them out for good reading &/or submitting your own work. See link below.

 

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Canada

Where I could step out into the night
Smoke with the stars
Hear an ocean just beyond the pines
And something’d draw the
Dog off barking
Into a pitch black forest where really anything could be
When all I wanted was a sparkling solitude of Orion
But you know when the s.o.b. came back
All proud of himself waging his tail –
All I could say was
Good boy – Good boy

 

publish fall 2011 by The Corner Club Press http://thecornerclubpress.weebly.com/

The dog was a Dalmatian dog named Max. Many’s the night we stood out under the most wonderfully black sparkling sky I would ever know.  Well I’d stand and being a smoker then, I’d smoke while he as you can see did not stand still at all but eventually he’d show up and sit next to me lean against my leg – no matter how cold the ground.

 

 

For the Ice to Heal, by pd lyons


wrote this while living in Cape Breton – the winters were longish there and sometimes folks could get a bit depressed about it, and steel mills were gone and the liquor was chap. but the ocean was beautiful, the pack ice on a sunny day would sing like wind chimes as sea birds and wood land birds would follow as I walked alone upon the rough shore line

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For the Ice to Heal

From the kitchen window

Curtain less

Stiff abandoned

On the line

Since October

Sentinel dish towel

Clumsy signal

Waves

Not yet

Not yet

Might as well

Another coffee

Something for the birds

Rare as rubies cardinal

Blue jays bright stuns my eyes

Dull small brown little things

Ok

Ok

First thing tomorrow

Auger from the garage

Break that agreement

Made with myself

To wait

snow by morgan lyons

snow by morgan lyons

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auger_%28drill%29

Augers – either gas- or hand-powered – are used by ice fishermen to drill holes to fish through.

 

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Balreask, by pd lyons


pdlyons photo, artist unknown - paris

pdlyons photo, artist unknown – paris

after 2 years living in Cape Breton we returned to Ireland. for a short while we stayed with Michelle’s family in Balreask, while we sorted out a house of our own. This poem was written then 2004 – I was still a bit high about being in Ireland again. Maeve is , for me the goddess of sovereignty of the land. It was a good morning.

 

Balreask

Earliest morning I been up

Since we got here

Out in the garden Qi gong cup of tea

One crow on the aerial above the chimney

Is that you ?

Is that really you Maeve?

Yes you are sleek and shiny really beautiful today.

Tilts her head towards me

As if surprised

Then clucks a few syllables in return.

Can we stay Maeve? Can we make our home here

Well not exactly here but in this country. Are we really coming home?

She leans further towards me, opens and closes her beak, leans closer

then whistles three gutsy in her throat whistles & flies.

The grass needs tending

It just might rain

Beginning is the least I can do

 

pd lyons photo artist unknown - paris

pd Lyons photo, artist unknown – Paris

Mira Gut, by pd lyons


Mira Gut

there are no flowers here but snow.
the bay not yet free chunked with ice
the white of which exists only against a distant liquid sea.
at least the sun visits, comforting,
illusion though it is,
visions of thawing, melting down to something green.

in the long sleep of winter I have dreamed
something Spanish that you said along a twilight turquoise
something soft covering sun drenched shoulders
silver threads an old man’s harp played for money by the moon.

 

 

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Was lucky enough to live in Cape Breton for a while. The area Mira Gut was where the river Mira entered the Atlantic. We lived across the street from the ocean. Sometimes we’d walk down to the Mira bridge and fish for mackerel. Some of the most beautiful parts of being there were the winters.  this was probably written on 2003.

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The Watcher, by pd lyons


Beryl Markham by unknown

Beryl Markham by unknown

 

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The Watcher

~

bright morning

sun magnified by ice and snow

stood at the sink

about to fill the coffee pot

look through the window

there through an even brighter space

where the curtains do not meet

in the distance something

a movement

almost tallest pine

deep against a pure dimensional sky

“What a beautiful bird”

after a brief pause said again out loud

“Because I know it is a bird and to me all birds are beautiful”

as if that part of himself was ever satisfied with any answer,

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From the amazing Canadian maritime winter days – when even coffee making was an adventure. written around 2003-04 from the self published Not Quite Thomas – new poems by p d lyons, lulu.com 2008. the photos are of Beryl Markham, the photographer is unknown by me. She is one of my heroes.  If interested you can goggle her and find out why she is and why she is part of this blog post.

 

beryl markham, by unknown

beryl markham, by unknown

Big Lorraine, by PD Lyons – a ghost poem


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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

 

 

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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 .

 

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canada, a poem by pd lyons


 

 

was living in cape Breton for a few winters. had a dalmatian dog named max. we brought him over from Ireland with us. he had 125 acres of woodland for a back yard and the Atlantic ocean for the front. those days had a canon AE something or other so film photos and they’re in a box somewhere…

originally published by corner club press issue 3 vol 1 July 2011   http://thecornerclubpress.weebly.com/

 

 

Canada

Where I could step out into the night
Smoke with the stars
Hear an ocean just beyond the pines
And something’d draw the
Dog off barking
Into a pitch black forest where really anything could be
When all I wanted was a sparkling solitude of Orion
But you know when the s.o.b. came back
All proud of himself waging his tail –
All I could say was
Good boy – Good boy

 

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accepted by the corner club press


Dear PD Lyons,

I am pleased to inform you that your poem “Canada” has been selected for publication in the The Corner Club Press.  Congratulations!  Our third issue will be published on July 15th, 2011.  We encourage you to continue to submit your work to our magazine for future issues. Please send a brief bio to include with your work.

The Corner Club Press is a downloadable non-profit magazine in PDF format. We ask for first publication rights and the right to include your pieces in our future archives. We have nonexclusive rights to your pieces and ask that you let us either display, copy, publish, print, or distribute your work. We WILL NOT sell your work. Once you are published with us, you are free to do as you want with your work, and all rights will revert back to you in three months. The three month period will start the day of publication. If you decide to republish your piece elsewhere, please cite us as the publication and include our web address.

Thank you,

 

Daphne Maysonet
Poetry Editor
Thank you! please check out their excellent site here:

http://www.thecornerclubpress.com/

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