Tag Archives: midnight

WHAT WOULD THE MID NIGHT DO, poetry by pd lyons


What would the midnight do with fingers?

Braid your hair while you were sleeping,

Pick green apples from the trees,

Count the legs on centipedes?

Prick them on a whitethorn hedge

Seeking out the vixens den?

Weave   the  constellations new again?

Touch your dreams with deeper meaning?

Select an ancient instrument of bone,

Dedicate that music to the moon?

with wings







The Man Whose Name Began With Stars, by pd lyons


the man whose name began with stars
combed golden curl searched silence

went through forests withheld blame
through deserts called out names unlike his own

took shots so long no one ever knew where they landed
cried into nights so long it terrified god

expected nothing, got more than he bargained for

and when the time came for secrets
whispered to his long dead mother

remembered midnight hair, red red lips, eyes the colour of some-place else,
cool skin, pale airless hello -goodbye kisses, deep as if oceanic swells her voice



Fuckin Bukowski, by pd lyons ( again )


( i kinda like this one, thats why i’m posting it again. different pictures though!)

i never knew  Bukowski. i hadn’t even heard of him for most of my life. i think i was 52 when i first read anything by him – despite work of mine appearing in print with his back in the early 80’s . i knew little about his  “real”  life but what came from the poetry (never read a novel by him) – i don’t remember his words but i still remember the rush of honest poetry i discovered there – how beauty cannot be subdued by drink drugs abuse of any kind. how the humanity of the human spirit will not be denied – even if the only place it can manifest is in the fact of not killing the cat who pisses all over you while you’re sleeping one off in bed.

the following poem was published by Caliope Nerve in October 2009, http://calliopenerve.blogspot.ie/search/label/PD%20Lyons  it was probably written in 06-07 :


Fuckin Bukowski

Idiot me picks now

6000 miles away at 52

To discover him

Still glad I didn’t stay in Waterbury

Find him sooner

Probably still be pukeing

Out in the after last call

Parking lot of now what am I gonna do

Or else back in jail

Or else still with one of the xes

Or else not even alive


Tonight just had a chicken and ham sandwich on rye

And its sometime after midnight

And I’ll probably still be up @ 6 maybe half 6

Do some yoga make coffee for the wife

Bring it to her in bed

Get some pancakes going for the kid

And be happy to do so


No not envious

Not regretful

Rather peaceful

Glad to be out of it

That’s the kind of poet I’m happy to live with




multipurpose poem by pd lyons


Multipurpose Poem

Well yet have I not surrendered

Mid night met on foreign ground

Origami paths where I always am
Just in from the law
Almost out of reach
Endless midnight moonlight
Rider on a dishonest horse

Picture 011



My Kitchen at Midnight reblog from http://taruane.wordpress.com w response by pd lyons

pdlyons on December 4, 2012 at 2:16 pm said:

you might have woke
hearing the clink of stirred coffee
smelling the vague smoke
last bit of an old joint
never knowing
the youth
old age
in your kitchen

via 3) My Kitchen at Midnight.

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