Tag Archives: mother

the ghost mother by pd lyons

the ghost mother


as if each son



upon this dominated land


sticks of war

lures of porno


after century


yet still there are some

knowing they are the mothers sons

dare to say –

i love you

artist unknown/pdlyons photo


paris 2016/ pdlyons photo




Open Heart Surgery

DSC_0827 (2)




Open Heart Surgery

Time has passed
And aren’t we old and settled in our ways?
Funny with all our differences
How similar we have become.

But still I don’t know what to do around you
Magnificent stranger, significant giant.
If you were my mother laying there we’d hold each other
Maybe cry together

And wouldn’t I love to?
But isn’t it scary?

So in true manly fashion
I lay the blame on you
Without saying a word
Better safe and sore –

Isn’t that the man thing?
Love the wound.
Fear the healing

photographer unknown

photographer unknown



Christmas, by pd Lyons; from Myths of Multiplicity

Even when I was a kid, Christmas was an exotic time. A magic of scents, tastes, and a certainty that anything was possible :



heavy dark seeded bread
brown bottled beer you can’t see through
dry sharp salami
lumps of malachite shaped into eggs
glass beads ready for stringing
sheets of tin
strands of copper
damp dark tobacco wrapped with yellow paper
messages from gypsy horsemen distant relative to our mother



LyonsCover01fin)free postage world wide from Erbacce press Liverpool UK

whenever I cry you’re still there, by pd lyons

indian pipe @ sleeping giant

indian pipe @ sleeping giant

might be a moment in winter

a tinsel a star gone astray


maybe first color of Autumn

geese not yet on the wing


might be your birthday’s in April

someone with curls in their hair


or maybe someone with roses

whistling all summery with out a care?


there’s not really any rhyme or reason

not really any way to prepare


whenever I cry I see you

whenever I cry you’re still here



Today , by pd lyons


perhaps I should sense it, the exact time
they cut into my mother
another piece
a search again for the elusive.

what can I offer?
writer of last letters to her husband and her children.
vigil candles before the Madonna and infant.
believer of saint Jude?
hold her in all knowing embrace?
tell her everything will be all right


in 1983 my mother lost her seven year long battle with cancer. this would have been written sometime before that.

These Words Are Empty Like The Air You Can’t Live Without

These Words Are Empty Like The Air You Can’t Live Without

Sometimes no one comes back
in addition to that
you live with  all those idiotic things you took for granted.

But we wanted to know.
Our fascination drew us into every variation on a theme.
What would hell be like?
What would we be like in hell?
How would we act?
How would death bring me closer to god?

In a profound activity
I sign myself away.
Surrender to mechanics
Earn relief from anxiety
Freedom from responsibility.
I can walk through carveries of flesh
Fearing no evil mother fucker
Cause that’s who we are.
We need no sanctuary from ourselves.

When the automatic stuff is done
Some of us return to our own.
Loved ones  nothing but food.
God  nothing but permission.
All honour reduced to a blinding reason
All other truths ill mannered and regardless.
Who weeps for us?
Only well and truly duped.
The hearts of our own mothers
We fuck till they’re still


pdlyons photography


the tree the wind lives in by pd lyons

the tree the wind lives in


the tree the wind lives in drowses a whisper

something on the road rain windows our promise

like rides to every hitch-hiker never kept


smoky headlights  hide and seek 

some kind of lace hung by my visiting mother

as if ever earned a simple gratitude




when i was 18 i moved into my first apartment. one day my mother came over. she hung lace curtains in the windows.

On My Mother’s Side, poetry by pd lyons

riverside waterbury ct

riverside waterbury ct


On My Mother’s Side

My mother never told me
The one thing I’d ‘a listened to most.
Diagnosed with cancer (7 years before it killed her.)
Deciding to keep it to herself,
She did exactly what it wanted –
Believing it was for her children’s benefit, how would she refuse?

Besides my mother came from a family of secrets
Dark Sicilian secrets emanated from
Every Sunday dinner table that ever was
Ebb   Flow   Echo   Repeat
Dance through generations none of us immune

~ free from all the ancient stories we
could have held the woman who gave us birth
cried any tears together
faced fear until it became compassion
looked into her eyes knowing it was goodbye
and that there would never be another word between us ~


“On My Mother’s Side” by PD Lyons read by Author
From “Caribu and Sister Stones” published by Belfast Lapwing 2009
ISBN 978-1-905425-90-7

roads by pd lyons







coming back to me

crows know

those roads

I know

autumn in September

leaves alike

past seasons

once knee deep

hand held by my mother

down the big giant hill





many years ago my mother walked us down the big giant hills from our house to the intersection where JFK was driving through on his way to Hartford i believe. many years after that i returned to the home land after being away for many years – hence the poem. JFK might have drove through in november but my return was september and so it goes.

Your Eyes, by pd lyons from A Letter Among Friends Vol.3 No.1



                wet stars

    torn from the sky of flesh

              sharp the laceration

              cool the winding breath of smokey sadness

     I mourn for you

        like a mother

    mourns the child finally born



this was published in 1979-80 by a little print mag out of Groton, Connecticut called A Letter Among Friends.   Must have wrote it in the early 70’s. I remember the editors criticized  the other poems i ‘d also sent as being “…too song like.” Funny what one remembers.


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