Tag Archives: poetry

The Great God Pan Is Dead by pd lyons


 

photographer unknown

 

Within the pages of illusion,

Before the glass of no reflection,

The sensuous form of her adoration,

(White on blonde)

Rises to the occasion of the

Mysterious relation between,

The pale worship of a

Vanishing god and the blue

Whispers of her blood.

As fevered as silk in cedar,

Fanatical as dew dipped spider webs;

She’s come and gone.

Her absence heavy in the spicy

Dust of death, where her foot steps

Spell out the haunting word

Amen

 

1987

memorial by pd lyons


ever onward let me go
ever onward let me go home

this world of lamentation
these buds of easy bloom

you don’t know where
but i’ll find my way

so let me go

i’ll leave a little light for you – if i can

 

truth of youth


stronger

sleeker

smarter

better

wet ourselves at the sight of each other

poems and photos by pd lyons published by clockwise cat issue 36 “Skullwise Cat”


https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/view/56836339/skullwise-cat

 

scorpion night

THE NIGHT MARES

Restless

In a still night

No moon softening

Sharp stars

No cloud drapery.

Against this midnight

The night mares move

Sharing colour with the darkness.

What cannot find them is found by them,

There are no ways secret:

Spiraling stars leave every sky familiar,

Foraging herds by trails of green weeds

Breach every underwater sanctuary.

The night mares

Sleep standing up;

Contain any stallion,

Give birth in the middle of any weather,

Can knock bones, eyes, or internal organs out of any creature.

Simply by their passing

Men have been sucked breathless.

The night mares

Know where dragons come from,

And who, mothered by seas and singing desert sands,

The twin birthed are.

In languages that the thunder knows,

They answer one another.

Navigating easily unbridled,

No boundary deludes them.

Yielding, the only response they know.

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

this first appeared in print in Searches For Magic Lapwing Press Belfast

 

 

 

How Long My Unfitting Skin, The Night

 

she had come down from Gunnison

it had been a hard ride

thin air refusing to support her

old shoes needing 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 a star

~

make believe log cabin

steel spring mattress

Jim Beam on the bed side

we smoked 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

kneeling by the drifty window

to whatever she prayed

all i could make out was –

 

How long my own unfitting skin the night?

 

 

thank you clockwise cat!

Only August as published by Fourth & Sycamore


A literary journal of the Greenville Public Library

 

https://fourthandsycamore.com/about-fourth-sycamore/

only august: A poem by PD Lyons

By PD Lyons

 

only august

crows
almost quiet
only feather sounds
rising
almost still
only slow
steady beating
as if horses
finally
taught themselves
to march in order
across the fields
almost green
only smoky
spiral dust
almost damp descending
mirage
as if insects
finally taught themselves
to sing
like falling rain
across midday
almost yawning
only august


PD Lyons

Born and raised in the USA. Traveling and living abroad since 1998. Now residing in Ireland.

Received The Mattatuck College Award for Outstanding Achievement in Poetry.

Received Bachelor of Science with honours from Teikyo Post University Connecticut.

Two books of poetry Searches For Magic, and Caribu & Sister Stones: Selected Poems, have been 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.

The work of PD Lyons has also appeared in many magazines and e-zine/blogs throughout the world. Including, The SHoP, Books Ireland, Irish American Post, Boyne Berries, Virtual Writer, Slipstream, West 47 Galway Arts. Recently selected to participate in Human Rights Consortium at the School of Advanced Study, University of London publication titled ‘In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights’.

  https://pdlyons.wordpress.com/ 

 

I am dead already by pd lyons


red glass bowl w/ holland tomatoes on a black slate

red glass bowl w/ Holland tomatoes on a black slate on a green table

I am dead already

~ So

there is nothing really to worry about

~ Although sometimes i still forget

think of myself as living

things to do

places to go

achievement’s to achieve

people to please and all

eventually i come around

focus by saying

” you don’t have to”

usually that’s enough to brig me back to what is

~ Other times,

especially if i have forgotten for maybe days,

years, occasionally decades

it takes stuff a little stronger not much though, you know

just say out loud to my so called self;

“you are already dead “

 helps me relax

brigs me round to that expansive place of what is

a pleasant space of truth

red bowl glass

red bowl glass

Learning To Be Friends With The Rain


 

c Mogan Lyons 2016

c Mogan Lyons 2016

~

if i put each of these days

end to end

how many times around the world

would they go?

~

no matter what

yes

the only choice

~

living in the peace

so many would die for

i walk the dogs

 old growth

cross clear brooks

splash for drinks

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

sometimes this sense of failure

is all I’ll ever be

sometimes that loneliness

is all I’ll ever see

~

it’s the price for being true

it’s the cost of no surrender

the double helixed blessing

of being me

~

maybe tomorrow

the courage will come

all that ever was –

undone

CSC_2217

Amarillo as published by Literariedad December 2016


 

Amarillo 

like that street
wandered down street
no siesta noon
shadowed woman leans
black iron filigree not quite a balcony
lace the colour of some-place else
drawn as if a breeze
pecan smooth her face

what would the story be?
choose that place you should not go
walnut doors second floor
barefoot invitation
whisper of late grapes
hint of something strong
dull embroidered armchair
unlaced boots
dusted finger prints
smooth as kisses table
folded towels
uncertain colour
enameled basin
clear glass tumblers
lemons sliced in water
sunlight striping something velvet on the bed

https://literariedad.co/tag/edicion-de-diciembre-de-2016/

Literariedad es una revista electrónica nacida en Pereira, Colombia, en mayo de 2013. Asume la literatura, la poesía, el cine y el teatro como calles, lugares de encuentro y desencuentro. Inspirada en la idea que suscitó Jaime Sabines: “No soy un poeta, soy un peatón”, y en la obsesión que llevó a Robert Walser a morir en la nieve, busca difundir la crítica, la ficción, la poesía (y el pensamiento en torno a la misma) sin ninguna razón más que la de existir como todas las cosas: por un impulso ciego y desbocado.

Literariedad is an electronic magazine born in Pereira, Colombia in May of 2013. Literariedad presumes that literature, poetry, film, and theatre are like streets, places to be found and lost once again. Inspired by a quote by Jaime Sabines, “I’m not a poet, I’m a pedestrian,” and the obsession that carried Robert Walser to die in the snow, this magazine seeks to spread criticism, fiction, poetry (and thoughts on poetry) without any other motive than that which drives all art: a blind and uncontrollable impulse.

 

Puede enviar sus textos para ser evaluados por nuestro Comité Editorial a la siguiente dirección de correo electrónico: editorial@literariedad.co.

For submissions in English, you can send your pieces to the following email address: englishsubmissions@literariedad.co.

Contemplate This, from May Sarton & Carl Jung and my Good Dad


one of the benefits of growing up with a dad who was an out of print / second hand books seller – or as it was back in the pre computer days , a book scout; was that he would give me little gems that he thought were ” up my alley”.  As a teenager i was given things like Henry miller, James Joyce, Tolkien, Tanith Lee, Anais Nin, etc. these days i am no teenager but i am well blessed with books.

currently i am re reading a beautiful book once given to me by my dad. Of course i no longer have the copy he gave me, one of us may have sold it years ago, or maybe it perished in my own great water in the storage space disaster of 2010 .any way I am reading Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton. She was a particularly beautiful gift to me from my father.

If any of you write or art or deal with solitude or depression  in any way I would recommend her as boon companion. She seems fond of Jung and so my offerings here are her quotes from Joung :

” I have been pondering two passages from Jung. The first is a key to the dangers of sublimation : “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious” The second is:

” Only the living presence of the eternal images can lend the human psyche a dignity that makes it morally possible for man to stand by his own soul, and be convinced that it is worthwhile to persevere with himself. Only then will he realize that the conflict is in him, that the discord and tribulation are his riches which should not be squandered by attacking others; and that if fate should exact a debt from him in the for of guilt, it is a debt to himself.” – from Journal of a solitude by May Sarton, W.W. Norton New York 1977, page110

so I got mine for .50 used paperback in keeping with my dads school of used book hunting techniques.

why not get your own?

imagine  a world where people decide that they are worth persevering with themselves and that “riches… should not be squandered by attacking others!

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/845386.Journal_of_a_Solitude

 

845386

 

the poetry of poets


i am always amazed by the incessant incredible sensitive fragility of the poetry of poets

so fucking strong

each and every

one

of them

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