Tag Archives: connecticut

Somehow Coming out at Robin’s House… from As if the Rain Fell in ordinary Time by PD Lyons


Originally published by Subterranean Blue Poetry this was part of the winning entriy for the erbacce poetry prize 2019. I once worked in a Jungian  residential treatment ctr. in Litchfield Ct. Robin worked there too as did Eva who got lost with me once in a dream of deep winters

Somehow Coming out at Robin’s House Where She Rescued Us with Coffee

 

That morning we walked into the snow

Across old farm lands

Over walls of field stone

The flakes large steady

Making it hard to see anything but them.

We’d stumble.

We’d fall.

Each of us

Quick to help the other.

Laugh sometimes,

Kiss sometimes.

Push ourselves forward.

Always forward.

semi shelter of thin woods,

some nameless river,

steepening ridge.

swirls of ever deepening ever dancing

mesmerised not bothering to melt snow

Clung

Like new eyelashes,

Like soft old useless flannel,

Like wishes form a childhood

Unable to be blown away

Or ever to come true.

 

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

 

The annual erbacce-prize for poetry is open from January 1st to May 1st every year. It is entirely FREE to enter thus it attracts top quality poets world-wide… in 2019 we had close to eight thousand entries and all were judged ‘blind’. P D Lyons was the outright winner! Below is the book we produced for him… it is sheer quality poetry, the whole book encompasses a simplicity coupled with deep insight; a truly beautiful collection which reveals more each time it is re-opened… (perfect-bound: 112 pages)

http://erbacce-press.webeden.co.uk/p-d-lyons/4586525519

 

sometimes softly in ruff draft by pd lyons


So a few moths back as a graduation gift to our daughter we got to go back to Connecticut for a while. On the way over had the head set plugged in and listened to the Classic Rock section! Hendrix, Byrds, Dylan etc. filed a half a note book with scribbles, just getting to them now. And as i ‘m wanting to do a blog  post today i made it easy on myself and popped this little piece from what i’m doing right now – here. Hope its not to ruff for you.

 

 

sometimes softly comes to me

the smile of your long long ago joy

 

sometimes softly comes so vividly

an open car

your laughter

the sun all ripcord silk and shining 

 

Sometimes softly comes to me

a song you used to dance to

Ol time rock n roll

Doulble trouble shakes n all

A man and a woman a dock on a bay

 

Sometimes softer still

A kiss that dared

A possibility accepted

Your answers to

My questions

Long remembered

~

i love rock and/or roll

I love rock and’or roll!

.

About/ revised 23 August 2019


P D Lyons Winner of the 2019 erbacce-prize for poetry

Thank you to the judges and to Erbacce Crew. I am humbled and honored by this. Cheers Alan!

 P D Lyons Winner of the 2019 erbacce-prize for poetry

The annual erbacce-prize for poetry is open from January 1st to May 1st every year. It is entirely FREE to enter thus it attracts top quality poets world-wide… in 2019 we had close to eight thousand entries and all were judged ‘blind’. P D Lyons was the outright winner! Below is the book we produced for him… it is sheer quality poetry, the whole book encompasses a simplicity coupled with deep insight; a truly beautiful collection which reveals more each time it is re-opened… (perfect-bound: 112pages)

http://erbacce-press.webeden.co.uk/p-d-lyons/4586525519

 

Through the generous support of  Westmeath County Council a limited edition of 50 numbered and signed copies are available to purchase direct from the poet at €20.00 to include standard postage world wide.  Please click on the cover below to order via PayPal

LyonsCover

PD Lyons

Born and raised in the USA. Travelling and living abroad since 1998. Now permanently residing in Ireland.

Received The Mattatuck College Award for Outstanding Achievement in Poetry.
Received Bachelor of Science with honours from Teikyo Post University Connecticut.

Two books of poetry Searches For Magic, and Caribu & Sister Stones: Selected Poems, have been published by Lapwing Press, Belfast. A third book, Myths Of Multiplicity, published by Erbacce press Liverpool as part of the 2014 Erbacce International Annual Prize was officially launched at the Westmeath County Library, Castlepollard Ireland on 9December 2014.

The work of PD Lyons has also appeared in many magazines and e-zine/blogs throughout the world. Including, The SHoP, Books Ireland, Irish American Post, Boyne Berries, Virtual Writer, Slipstream, West 47 Galway Arts. Recently selected to participate in Human Rights Consortium at the School of Advanced Study, University of London publication titled ‘In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights’.

Relevant websites:

‘In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights’.
In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights is an ambitious new publication aiming to bring together the fields of human rights research and literature in an innovative way. Selected from over 600 poems submitted by established and emerging poets, it provides a rare international insight into issues ranging from the trans-Atlantic slave trade, the Hola massacre and indigenous peoples’ rights to the current war in Syria.

http://www.sas.ac.uk/about-us/news/protest-new-poetry-anthology-explores-human-rights-and-social-justice

Myths of Multiplicity , all profits to benefit Erbacce writers co-op

http://www.erbacce-press.com/#/p-d-lyons/4586525519

Searches For Magic, and Caribu & Sister Stones,

http://www.freewebs.com/lapwingpoetry/

 

PD Lyons Blog : https://pdlyons.wordpress.com/

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Rumors of Another Summer


DSC_2182

 

 

95º

4th of July

Connecticut

Bare Trees, Winter Night; oldie not so familiar says the radio.

 

this is age

& what it’s like

& how is there anything else now?

 

But poplar silver

still sounds like rain

quick sand springs still stream

maples shade deep gorge brooks

high stones circle the pool

of where going down to the horse bones

we were kids.

 

 

 

Disappearing Behind Me Into Sky, by pd lyons


night woodDisappearing Behind Me Into Sky

shadow of crows
from the tree
disappears behind me to the sky
she had crystals hanging in nearly every window of the house
purified energy – coming in, going out
Mystic Connecticut, the town not the sea port
she bought me one for my car
that little shop just by the draw bridge
had it for years, hung from the rear view mirror one car to another to another

I’ve no idea where it is now though
or how I came to part with it
disappeared maybe it’s with that lock of her hair she gave me?
actually a braid cut from her first hair cut
when she was… maybe late twenty’s
Called me a stupid jerk when she found out I’d lost it

Another shadow; like crows, like Connecticut, like herself
disappears behind me to the sky

for tedra

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Trust, by pd lyons


Trust

I walk out with the horse,
She does not resist.

leads as if there’s not a diseased bone in her body.

 does not notice children crying,
rain stopping, sun brightening,
but rather a yellow butterfly –

moves her head
to keep it in sight
until for some reason she will never know,
 can no longer do so.

yellow

yellow

years ago worked for several intense years with a horse rescue rehab group in Connecticut. Sometimes there were happy endings, sometimes you had to let them go. the group is still there doing fine work for these beautiful creatures

http://www.horseofct.org/

https://www.facebook.com/pages/HORSE-of-CT/147828438582099?sk=reviews

The Humane Organization Representing Suffering Equines (H.O.R.S.E.) of Connecticut Inc., is a non-profit, 501(c)3 organization dedicated to the rescue and rehabilitation of abused and neglected horses. Over the past thirty years, H.O.R.S.E. has saved more than 650 lives. In addition to direct intervention, H.O.R.S.E. also maintains an ongoing commitment to educating the public regarding horse care.

Public Service Announcement WPKN 89.5 FM, by pd lyons


Public Service Announcement WPKN 89.5 FM

somebody said your name on the radio,
something going on up state,
not to be missed,
sure to be good;
sure I could agree,
except with the not
missing you part.

guess I could drive up?
but it be my luck,
standing outside,
all Dlyanesque without a ticket
not even in the rain.

so I sipped on hot tea.
went back to my afternoon.
knowing, if you were here?
it’d be wild turkey
and I’d be covered in paint
and your sweet bourbon kisses

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Centre du George Pompidou

When I Lived On West Main, by pd lyons


When I Lived On West Main

When I lived on west main street
third floor Victorian
Short walk for the liquor store past a little unnamed park
Not too far from down town

landlords’ cousins on the first floor
Stole my unemployment checks
put sugar in the gas tank
and I don’t know why

We had a Great Dane, brindle dog
got a cut on the end of his tail
And no matter what we did
He’d wag the bandage off.
Going up and down the stairs, hit the railings
Drops of blood splatter
As if his name was Jackson.

we bought a parrot
called em Caesar
Filled the living room with plants
And let him fly around.

Got oil lamps to save on electricity.
Tall hurricane lamps,
Scented oil glowed in every room.
Tall well screened widows let the sky in.
Wood floors creaked waltzed all night by ghosts.

I went to work in a toy shop.
I was happy about the baby.
Still painted. Still wrote every day.
Still thought I knew who we were.
It was the place where I’d smoke cigarettes,
As much as I wanted up into the middle of the night,
In that rocking chair your grandmother used to own.
Out over the roof tops, streaming lights, distant highways,
Weight of endless summer in the dark.

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The Girl Next Door By PD Lyons/ Poetry breakfast version


i love rock n roll

i love rock n roll

The Girl Next Door 
By PD Lyons

When I remember
Third floor windows
Tall white lace sails
Summer all running in our veins
Her mother in the kitchen
Making cool aid and plate full of something
Cookie sweet to eat

She wanted me to stay
I was afraid, wanted to go home
But didn’t want her to know
Not wanting to be in this house of too many windows
Overlooking this mill town valley

But she wanted me to stay
Besides the rains begun
Going to be a real storm
Already rumblings from darkening horizon

And her mother agreed
I’ll call your parents. They won’t be worried.
You can stay for supper. You like hot dogs don’t you?

And that was how I learned not to be afraid of storms
Not to hide from thunder or lightning
Frances and her mother, exuberant
Ohs and ahs and joy over every
Menacing vibration sudden crash
Every flash veining skeletal zigzag

PD Lyons has been writing for a long time and hoes to continue to do so even longer. pd lyons work has appeared in mags and zines in North America and Europe and beyond. Two collections of poetry have been published by Lapwing Publishing Belfast. Please visit pdlyons blog for poetry publishing info and new releases:
https://pdlyons.wordpress.com/

As published on Poetry Breakfast 2012. They no longer take submissions but the blog exists as archive.  http://poetrybreakfast.wordpress.com/category/poets/pd-lyons/

This is a true story of my learning about thunder and lightening. when i was 4 or 5 years old. my best friends were Christopher and Frances. Frances and her family lived on the third floor of one of those purpose built three family houses you can still find in Waterbury and many other New England towns. I was very glad that Poetry Breakfast chose to publish a little snip of my childhood. The editor Isabel Sylvan Kestner, is now pursuing her own artistic endeavours and you can check out her work here:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/isabelkestner

 

Box Set by pd lyons


 

Box Set

Stopped in the library
Wandered around while I waited for Morgan to be ready.
Picked up a set of Kerouac CD’s
Poetry I never knew before.

Later back at home
Read the liner notes
Small town
Factories gone
Smoke n drink
A loner dedicated to the written word
Inter-racional national vagrant
Working class lover

It was pretty scary stuff.

Put one on.
Sat down at the kitchen table with a cuppa
Got up washed dishes
Clean counters
Sat down poured another cup
Thought, well I like the energy, the piano, the urgent lone ranger
Plugged into by the muse trying to express every electrical inch
But I don’t think I really got it
Which came as a relief because after all I was quite happy to still be purely me.

 

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this version was published by

Railroad Poetry Project Manifesto   issues 2. 2011-12. they were a blog-zine. apparently no longer in existance not even as archival form. so i guess this and the two others they were kind enough to accept are now “unpublished original work”. was never a big Kerouac fan. just never really got it. i think he might have been a part of a necessary element to progress, in particular american lit. But give me Henry Miller or Bukowski any day – in my humble opinion. dont get me wrong i can relate to him personaly in some aspects. i was born in a small new England mill town, i loved the streets and had many a bizarre adventure on the road … 

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