Tag Archives: love

ruff from 2011 in eight bits, by pd Lyons


So because the day is bright and dancing outside my window I am most lazy regarding today’s blog so forewarned be best armed – what follows? 2 photos and a newishly  found ruff unpolished as if in amber piece.

’til next time

pd Lyons has left the building

edinborough scotland

edinborough scotland

 

 

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.

starbuck 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 thing s 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

hearts could be full of love cause the most damaging cuttingly cursingly no matter how true could never be you

7.
how many times have I thought to see you there?
after all these years – damn near 40
don’t I still imagine I come round the wooded path way bend
and by that pond somehow you’re there

ghosts haunt the places that the living know
it has nothing g 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

DSC_1035

Paris France

 

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

We Had Our own Penises Then, poetry by PD Lyons


We Had Our own Penises Then

Taught them tricks

Sit up

Stay

Beg

Roll over

Play dead

 

Got them to fetch

 Escort us on the lead

Not mess in the house

Be careful how they peed

 

And whenever we wanted

We’d change them.

Start again with new ones –

Tricks

Treats

Training

 

Sometimes they’d fall in love with us

Break their own little hearts

But our love?

Only meant for each other

Was not that kind.

This Is How We Live from Bella & Shirley by PD Lyons


Together we sleep in one another’s arms.

As if that safety protects us from the world.

Between our breathing and our heart beats

all the brutality of the day

each night melts away.

And should the world find us so vulnerable?

Our accord is this;

always our side arm within reach.

Our promise,

to deliver each other into the protection of death

freed forever then from harm.

This is how we live

Now

This is how we love.

Like My Breath by pd lyons


we lean elbows on the table

they take my face in-between their hands

all endless eyes intense

not even needing to be kissed

swoon like

fall

crash

only by their hands saved

my elbows long since

given

way

 

Where Her Breasts Used to Be, as published by A Quiet Courage. 2016


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.

one of the things i love best about still being alive


lilly-gator ATP (all terrain pup)

one of the things i love best about still being alive is:

suiting up in that old 3/4 dark almost black green wax coat, slipping on the knee-high wellies (reinforced so nothing can pierce the sole) zipping up every zip, snap, hood, buckle etc and going out in the near dark of winter walking with the little jack russel for company – even when the rain is hard and wind is strong or maybe i should say especially when, like tonight the moon late rising one star amidst the breaking clouds, mud n bog n field n down along the grassy banks the lake waves like an ocean, occasional squawks of errant crows not yet settled for another winter night. nothing stops the little dog, she is an atv of heart and blood, through the hedge rows, along the rocky shore catching waves, like some mad moon in orbit she always returns to me and we walk until we find our way back hardly able to see, she knowing there’s some treat, a bit of old bacon or such, me knowing that there’s something sweet from the oven and that michelle and morgan have the fire tended and after a bit of washing up and maybe a cup of black coffee, i get the evening meal started and i suppose that’s more than one thing, its truly somethings i love best about still being alive.

and that coat you know, did you ever have one? you can go out in any weather and not mind, as if you sealed up every bit of whatever was and is good in your life and it settles all around you keeping anything cold or harsh or wet away – but you know not really away, because somehow you still feel every bit of weather and you really wouldn’t not want to feel each and every inch of it, but rather that magic of the coat is somehow it transforms even the most daunting winter night into something you can’t wait to experience?

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

 

Re: Poets


“He repeated until his dying day that there was no one with more common sense, no stone cutter more obstinate, no manager more lucid or dangerous, than a poet.”
                                                              ― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

spring

spring

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


DSC_0446

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.

DSC_0444

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

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