Tag Archives: Love poem

in those open spaces of the heart, by pd lyons


 

Where can i always meet you?

where can we always be alone?

 

those open spaces

shadow lives

summers linger

all  ghosts laugh

 

weeping is for beauty

sweet and savory.

all pain, in remedy

honey tipped restored.

 

where i always meet you

in those open spaces of the heart

 

 

 

 

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winter anyway, a love poem by pd lyons


 

used to walk by trees like these

a country where winter meant deep snow
wind sometimes cut  wounds like a smile across my face

a great breathless
no-doubt-about-being alive-rush  deep New England winter

 

Made my way to some place I knew existed then,

slight shelter from the gale

flick and fumble

eventually light
sacramental cigarette

to the east, to the south, to the west, to the north, as above so below,
as within, so with out, on the smoke that is my prayer…

and somehow all I could do was say thank you –
for this snow,
this wind,
this gunmetal sky,
this bit of shelter crook of a stone wall
this cold, cold, cold against the small heat of my beating heart

 

 

Where Her Breasts Used To Be, a love peom by pd lyons


Where Her Breasts Used To Be

he kissed her courage
he kissed her fear
he kissed her sadness
her deep unknowability

because she was his dearest
because she was all he loved
and ever wished to

 

acrylic on paper pdlyons

acrylic on paper pdlyons

 

ruff off the cuff, a love poem with photos by pd lyons


DSC_1953

lemons with stainless steel by pdlyons

 

the old religion of your eyes

an accent of long strings made from the heart of my wild days

contrary backwards ridden horses

painted  nights of our own solitude

mystical marvelous

fingerprints phosphorescent

 

our mouths still meet like that

all blue tattoo

all willingly open  offerings of  sky

fearless

 cities of our violence ebbing rhythmically

 a shore line languid with our peace

 

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yes there will be another summer – poem by pd lyons


Bridget Shields Rose

Bridget Shields Rose

Warm summer evening

Soft summer breezes

Stars through the windows

Warm steady breathing

Secretly dreaming

My love asleep in my arms

 

photographer unknown

photographer unknown

I Will Know You Always, by pd Lyons


Another lovers poem. Somehow even these days it is the lovers that remind me of Paris. No matter what, it is the lovers…

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artist unknown.Paris.pdlyons photo

once when love was finger tips

participating every new inch of you

how could I know silence

wound like slippery tongue holds

keeping secrets no longer

than the hard erect penis of worth while

afternoons

all golden like they always said

all forever like they all said did not exist

as long a there is breath

I will know you

~

only through muscle sweat cum voice

could our bodies ever be so gentle

whispers too loud

our tears slow in wonder

our separation

distant legend

unavoidable prophecy

both irreparably exposed as lies

as long as there is silence

I will know you

~

always

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Paris.pdlyons photo

Once While I Was Away, by pd Lyons


Paris doorway pdlyons photo

You might have come

Expecting awkward greeting won by

Philosophic well planned answers to

What you thought my unasked questions were –

Accidental touch

Silent linger hands

Knowing prelude to a kiss

All it would take to unclench my heart

Inviting you in

So you’d have something to do for the afternoon  DSC_1192

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

Another one of those young love poems. probably 1980’s. not sure. but reminding me today to something Manhattanish or maybe Paris premonitions?

Paris doorway pdlyons photo

Paris doorway pdlyons photo

Paris doorway pdlyons photo

from Still Wishing To Be Ravens : Love Poem for Richard Brautigan 6.6.85


Love Poem for R.B.

Today I heard on the radio that Richard Brautigan

Killed himself last fall.

Then some girl who was 17 in 1970 read his Love Poem.

She said that her then lover was a DJ on a college

Station and had dedicated a recording of the poem

To her, over the air, before he disappeared in a

Californian direction.

Anyway, I don’t know where I was.

Maybe I was washing clothes or asleep even.

Maybe I was with Jenny or Eva or somebody.

I could a been drunk, or depressed

As if by some sort of intuition.

All I really know is that I’ll never know where I was

When he did it.

I wonder how he did it.

Maybe I should go down to the library look him

Up on the newspaper micro-film file?

Most likely I won’t though, the library is closed now

And I’m not sure I care that much anyway.

Besides it’s one of those details I’m sure will

Accidentally find its way to me.

It kinda pisses me off that he did it, I mean he

Wrote that Watermelon Sugar book, I read it years ago

When Mary gave it to me and I, 15 in 1970.

Watermelon Sugar and Mary my first lover go good together.

I don’t know about this suicide stuff though.

But maybe it’s nice not having to wake up alone with yourself

When you just don’t want to any more.

6/6/85

from: Still Wishing To be Ravens, new poems

by pd lyons

2009, Myo, Myo & Razooka

Winetown Castlepollard; Ireland

blue hydrangea

blue hydrangea

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