Found Those Places Left Behind A Kiss ~ by pd lyons

I found those places

Left behind

Ghost crumb tailings

Shadow sounds soft upon a poplar breeze

Freshwater landmarks unnoticed by untrained eyes

Feral flailing Exuberant heart

Unbridled moon lighting our delinquent ways

What would we ask each other

What would we tell

Or would we, beyond all good fortune

give up these years of fumbling words

Find the only thing our mouths were ever good for

.

I Found Those Places Left Behind, ruff ~ by pd lyons

 

I found those places

Left behind

Ghost crumb tailings

Shadow sounds soft upon a poplar breeze

Freshwater landmarks unnoticed by untrained eyes

Feral flailing Exuberant heart

Unbridled moon lighting our delinquent ways

What would we ask each other

What would we tell

Or would we, beyond all good fortune

give up these years of fumbling words

Find the only thing our mouths were ever good for

.

It is a world of ghosts, by pd lyons

I live with ghosts.

all memories are ghosts

all the things I’ve yet to do?

ghosts to be.

I am the ghost becoming for all others,

just as they are for me.

It is a world of ghosts.

Where is everyone you ever knew?

Every thing you have ever done?

All that is this present,

All that has become past,

All that will ever be –

ghostliness.

That is what we know

and that is what we fear.

Not because of any harm,

no ghost can really cause harm.

But because no ghost can  touch,

or indeed be touched.

That is why we continuously  deny our existence.

Ghosts of My Summers, by pd lyons

 

 

Ghosts of My Summers

Ghosts of my summers walk by
Long pink skirts trail
Roads of my youth
Still there, yet some what changed
As if each and every memory plays out again
This time
A different boy
Meets a different girl
Once you
Once me
Still June.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ghost of My Mother’s Lover by pd lyons; Gone Lawn version

 

The Ghost of my Mother’s Lover

Sometimes I would find the things he left, loose change under the cushions, a little red box of wood matches (that my mother took away), black liquorice candies wrapped in stripped silver foil.

And once a big silver skeleton key — that he really left for me.

One night I woke up, hearing his voice, his voice from my mother’s room, his voice talking and talking. I went up to the door which was not quite closed — they were in bed together. He was sitting up and mother lay with her arms around him, head on his bare chest. He wasn’t just talking he was reading, so I sat down there in the hallway and listened about Morgana the sister of a king.

I guess he didn’t notice my mother was asleep because he kept on reading and whenever he turned the page I thought he would look right at me and smile.

I listened as Morgana looked into the water for pictures of the future and how some of the knights did not like her but there was one, one with dragons on his arms who loved her very much, how it was Morgana who taught the little girls of Avalon to serve the Goddess…. And I thought I have to ask him, who is this Goddess?

I must have fallen asleep there on the floor by the door of my mother’s room because the next thing I remember I am being carried and in his arms! My face against pictures of blue stars and a black winged horse on his shoulder. His smell a little like the ocean mixed with something from my mother’s kitchen. His muscles so great that with one arm he held me while with the other pulled back the blankets, swung me down into my bed so fast I almost laughed out loud then tucked me in.

Through my half closed eyes I could see his face coming closer and closer, then his lips touched my forehead — but soft like mother’s kiss even though his breath of smoke and prickly chin were not at all like mother. As he pulled away he said so that I could hardly hear, “Sleep well. Sleep well little Morgana.”

Then I remembered I wanted to ask him…. I sat up and said “Tell me—” But he was gone and already the light in my mother’s room put out.

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P. D. Lyons has been writing for a long time and hopes to keep on with it for even longer. His newest book, Caribu&Sister Stones has been published by Lapwing Press Belfast. The miracle is not to walk on water but to walk on earth — Zen master Lin Chi

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This piece appeared in Gone Lawn #2, winter 2010   http://journal.gonelawn.net/issue2/Lyons.php

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wrote this in the  mid 90’s i’d say.

was living with the Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mists_of_Avalonand Starhawk’s  The Spriral dance http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spiral_Dance .being very influential in those days

. Gone Lawn are, as of this writing actually still publishing  – http://journal.gonelawn.net/glj_about.php