Tag Archives: love

sometime when i cry, words by pd lyons, photograph by morgan lyons, music by Raveonettes


 

 

Sometime  I will surrender all the hard hear life

Sometime I will understand courage has nothing to do with anger

I will remember your face and smile

I will remember your touch and smile

Allowing just the experience of happiness

Allowing just that experience

Surrendering the need to go further

Staying just for the brief soft moment of love

Not needing the hard heat strength to go beyond

 

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All negativity derives from fear. When someone is angry they are afraid. When someone is rude, they are afraid. When someone is manipulative, they are afraid. When someone is cruel they are afraid. There is no fear that love does not dissolve. There is no negativity that forgiveness does not transform.

-Marianne Williamson from A Return to Love c1992,1996.

 

Hill of Tara

 

 

 

Do We Have The Right 3 parts from Bella & Shirley by pd lyons


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Is it right to hate them?

– We don’t need to hate them. We stop them. We put an end to it.

– Fear and suffering is twisted up in them.  They act as if they could get rid of it by giving it to someone else. As if torturing others will make them feel better. They must be stopped from doing this. We prevent them.

– Can we stop them?

– We will stop them. But not hate them. We’ll put them out of their own misery and stop the spreading of such misery.

Hate would only interfere with our efficiency.

c Mogan Lyons 2016

c Mogan Lyons 2016

Do We Have the Right?

She sat beside me on the bed

took my hand

between my legs

against my resistance

softened, looked me in the eye

and for the first time softly called me Bella.

Bella  trust me.

close your eyes

observe whatever you think

whatever you feel

relax.

no matter what relax.

do not try to control.

observe relax allow

and I wept like I never did in my life

like I knew I never would again

there in her arms clinging like I don’t know what.

when I could,  finally looked up at her.

she softly spoke

So Bella. Now. Do we have the right?

Yes i said

And you? Bella,do you have the right?

And I could only breathless whisper

Yes.

~

I let her bring her mouth to mine

shared a breath as once more she whispered Bella

And with a kiss

lay me down into the luxury of a truly dreamless sleep.

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yes what about love

Don’t need men.

What about children? – I joke

– (laughs) enough orphans in this world

– What about love?

– (silence) looks at me, leans towards me

eyes so black stops my breath

strokes my face with the back of her hand

warm strong dreamy

thoughtlessly I lean into it

something fine a silky electricity needles my spine

~

all I could do

was open my mouth

all I wanted to do was open my mouth

all I could do was all I wanted, 

to accept her own full mouth upon my own.

– ah she says, ah, yes; what- a-bout- love? syllable by syllable kisses until I no longer could count but only follow

Paris Pour Shelly, poem & photography by pd Lyons


Shelly Paris 2016

Shelly Paris 2016

Paris pour Shelly

he

would not

would not

would not

could not

without her

no way

no reason

no point

.

Paris 2016

Paris 2016

 

Where Her Breasts Used to Be, as published by A Quiet Courage.


Was very pleased to have thise poem appear on A Quiet Courage! Thank you  Clara Klein!

I have also included a link to their submission page : https://aquietcourage.wordpress.com/submissions/

https://aquietcourage.wordpress.com/2016/08/19/where-her-breasts-used-to-be/

Home

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.

 

 

 

P.D. Lyons: Born and raised in the USA. Travelling and living abroad since 1998. Currently resides in Ireland. Received Mattatuck College Award for Outstanding Achievement in Poetry. Received Bachelor of Science with honors from Teikyo Post University Connecticut. Books of poetry: Searches For Magic, and Caribu & Sister Stones 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. pdlyons.wordpress.comamazon.com/PD-Lyons/e/B00B6PEFSQ.

The Yearning / El Anhelo , a snippet by pd lyons


pd lyons photography

so back in bed with the morning coffee. needed to make some poetical notes, rummage for a piece of paper . found a hardly used note book from 2012 in the dresser drawer as one does. anyway scribbled what i needed to and then found this little bit of a poem. thought; should blog it. later in the kitchen doing some clean up popped on a CD hadn’t played in years Carrie Rodriguez, the last song on the cd done in Spanish. “La Punalada Trapere”. Had no idea what it meant but thought it might be cool with the poem. in looking for a you tube to post here, found one with her doing the song live on a radio show, she tells the interview where it comes from, her great aunt Eva Graza.

so here is the poem, which i would title “The Yearning / El Anhelo “, which is not about the song and the two versions of the song which is not about the poem but somehow of course they go together with my morning coffee, my kitchen chores and my long illustrious life. from here in Ireland. adiosa. mind how you go & watch your back.

 

all night

waiting

nothing but moon light and stars

where is the one who loves me

where is the the one I love

 

 

all night

 waiting

nothing but moonlight and stars

only the night

only the night

only the night

hears me whisper

over and over

his name

 

 

5.Sept.2012

 

How long my own unfitting skin is the night? by pd lyons


9.30.14. fore by pdlyonsphoto

she had come down from Gunnison

it had been a hard ride

 thin air refusing to support her

 old shoes raised and popped needed to be thrown away as soon as possible

~

 met for drinks at The Last Chance

she told me brief stories 

life in the wilderness

 ways of ghosts and proud flesh

we booked a room from the man who wore the star

~

make believe log cabins

steel spring mattress

Jim Beam on the bed side

we smoke silent shapes up at an invisible ceiling in the dark

I was happy to be there 

thought she was too

~

 

but somewhere after moon light

she had gotten up

knelt by the drifty  window

to whatever she prayed all i could make out was –

 

How long my own unfitting skin is the night?

 

25.3.11 ruff by pd lyons


25.3.11

 

 

today out on the veranda of all gone away youth whiskered timber dreams woke another coffee

 

1

you wouldn’t have to wait for anything to boot up

turn on or upload you could just sit down

bang away royal keys upon a cotton rag of water marked paper

 

you wouldn’t have to settle for crap wine, Bordeaux châteaux

would be easily accessible even to a low level pot dealer

 

you could get a soft pack of Marlboro that tasted good – better than the hard pack in the days before anyone even thought of lights

 the rent was 180 for five big rooms a laundry room full bath including heat and utilities

 

 you could sit on the second floor back porch blow a joint in broad daylight watch some old ginger tom prowl around some inner city orange rose bush while the most beautiful girl you thought you’d ever know sat on your lap  your hands finding ways to make her melt underneath her long gypsy soul skirt.

 

2.

 

 

girls go by to boys that somehow remind you to your own self except instead of love they sell schemes and plans and how to maximize income and output and the most beautiful girl in the place gives her precious attention to someone who won’t even make her come, too busy trying to sell her something that she won’t ever need on her death bed.

 

3.

 

don’t know what the reasons for the way we are is

don’t know how we got to be so far away from where we were

but there’s a time a  place for everything

there’s a never ending ever changing way of everything

so they say and who are they for us to disbelieve when we can see it in our selves
we cross the street together out of step we walk up stairs without noticing our own eyes

we can’t get on because all we want is something we remember way back there

 

 

4.

 

so much can happen when we live long enough

so many things we thought were no possible could have come to pass

but not believing in the future

did we not live grandly in the past?

 

my mother wanted things for me I did not believe in

my father wanted me to somehow not be a worry

my regret is only that being so inarticulate I could not explain

how I could love them but not want to ever become them

 

5.

cannot manage this consistency too well

I know your chimes of freedom flashing

I am the outlaw child of all these blue collar working class heroes

I am not them but am eternally grateful to them

all they gave of their own unrequited youth so that I could be the rebel born

and I will not forget you and I will not neglect you

and I will raise your soft n hidden heart to my own pure unbridled lips

my kisses unconcerned with the blood of my mother and my father

I will cherish your suffering transformation into peace.

 

6.

whatever went winkingly down the stairs clinkily

open and wondering wounded and proud

never more thinkingly would she be drinkingly

 out on the balcony summers no more

 

 

7.

how many times have I thought to see you there?

after all these years – damn near 40

don’t I still imagine; come down the wooded path way bend

  by that pond you’re somehow  there

 

ghosts haunt the places that the living know

it has nothing to do with where they died

ghosts haunt this place where I grew up

where I first saw you naked

 and you broke my heart open before I even knew I’d love you

 

I know I won’t ever see you now

but if promises can be made to ghosts

then someday soon I’ll meet you here again

golden apples silver apples

pine needles on a summer day patch of grass back by the old turtle pond

 

8.

 

today I do not want backward

I know there is no such thing as then or later

 and now’s so fleeting it hardly exists

 

I know the moon

calls me on the road of no stone no sand no steps

 

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mix medi m&p lyons a

 

 

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mix media collage with crayon m&p lyons

 

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mix media collage with carpet m&p lyons

First Day of Spring, by pd Lyons. As published by Shift Lit – Derry


 

First Day of Spring

my daughter asks me
why did people invent war?
don’t they know it’s the devil not god that likes war?
do children have to fight?
do they kill children too?
boys, and girls?
how old are the children?
why don’t the soldiers just quit?

and then the sound of helicopter passing
she thinks it wondrous dashes off to look

and for all those for whom that sound is terror?

because of them
we must love the world
all the more

 

Published in Shift #4 Revoution Issue:

http://www.facebook.com/SHIFT-Lit-Derry

photo by shift lit derry

photo by shift lit derry

whiskey ruff, draft by pd lyons


nights like these

too many in a row

fire dulled my senses

sought by spirits to refine

but

you come like the ghost your are

through no acquired taste

through no summoning spell

just the opposite

innocent? –  never that but  bystander none the less.

and you?

there are so many of you

 

years have no substance

distance no space

sometimes your name is lost

not your face

never a face

or a mouth

or an activity of sexuality

the things we did,  the why we parted

 

and you and you and you

never would i surrender any of you to the stupidity of guilt

treasures of a life time

still love

no matter what you’d think of me

.

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