Twilight Zone Episode Love Story by PD Lyons ~ read by the author

a girl, a bar, a friend, a gin, a city ~

a bit of memory lane

from the book ~ As If the Rain Fell in Ordinary Time, by PD Lyons, 2019

 

that afternoon she came into the bar

told me she had something to tell me

could I please come outside?

Please.

Sure I said.

I remember a light spring day

maybe even summer

we stood together on the little concrete steps

front door of the bar

I was probably leaning against the railing

most defiantly smoking

she stepped down on the side walk

looking up she said

listen,  I just have to tell you…

some other guy she met, really thought he was the one.

 

I’m so sorry she said but I had to tell you.

I offered to buy her a drink – for old times’ sake

No she said

I’m sorry I made you sad

 I’m sure you’ll find someone too.

Good bye

she paused

thanks for being so understanding.

 you really are a good man you know.

 

and left.

 

 I went back in joined my buddy at the bar

I lit a smoke ordered us a round

in those days

we were drinking gin on the rocks with a twist

we were smoking Phillip Morris like the attorney general was a loony tunes

we were betting on the NFL like it owed us a pay check

 

Anyway before she came in

I had been telling him how I was in a bit of a jam with this young girl

she was so into me

didn’t have the guts to break her heart

 

and then she comes along and dumps me

Jesus, he said after I told him, that was like some twilight zone episode love story

 

Thank you to the judges and to Erbacce Crew. I am humbled and honored by this. Cheers Alan!

 P D Lyons Winner of the 2019 erbacce-prize for poetry

The annual erbacce-prize for poetry is open from January 1st to May 1st every year. It is entirely FREE to enter thus it attracts top quality poets world-wide… in 2019 we had close to eight thousand entries and all were judged ‘blind’. P D Lyons was the outright winner! Below is the book we produced for him… it is sheer quality poetry, the whole book encompasses a simplicity coupled with deep insight; a truly beautiful collection which reveals more each time it is re-opened… (perfect-bound: 112pages)

Through the generous support of  Westmeath County Council a limited edition of 50 numbered and signed copies are available to purchase direct from the poet at €20.00 to include standard postage world wide. I still have a few left contact via comment or pdlyonspoet’yahoo.co.uk

When We Lived on Nelson Ave by pd lyons

When We Lived on Nelson Ave

days when my father took milk and sugar
leaving the spoon in his coffee

my mother whistled among lilacs and roses

mahogany furniture kept well polished
special knives and forks only used on holidays

I knew the name of Lilly of the valley
not to ever put them in your mouth

there were kittens in the sun porch
we watched born from a tabby cat named Felix

there were cherries from our backyard tree
so red I thought they were black,
tasting like no cherries
ever would again

original published June 2010 by Blue Lotus Review

we lived in a small white house at the Meriden road side of Nelson avenue Waterbury Ct. until i was four years old. i can still taste those cherries.

from poems found in boxes. for Loretta 1973 by pd lyons

for my dear friend from long ago and far away. remember?

Rose was the first thought

Remembering was coming

But put back

Almost worn out

Now – where roses bloom

Not trying

For anything

Now – where roses bloom

Not trying

For anything

Now – when I am

And am not

Then or pretty soon

Or never or forever

Now

When words burn meaningless

Giving warmth to bodies not left behind

The thoughts are all

Growing like flowers

Coiling like snakes

Blooming gaping

Snakes and flowers

The flesh we care for

The planet we care for

The stars we strive for –

Close you eyes

See .

Sept.12.73  for Loretta.

Twilight Zone Episode Love Story by PD Lyons ~ read by the author

a girl, a bar, a friend, a gin, a city ~

a bit of memory lane

from the book ~ As If the Rain Fell in Ordinary Time, by PD Lyons, 2019

 

The Girl in the Silver Mercedes by pd lyons

come back

I want to know

what’s it like

all your dreams come true

your hair longer now than when we were teenagers

leaned against high school halls

100 years old then

gone now

gone

the one word, one thing

applies, can be applied,

utterly applicable to every person,

place, thing, concept, category –

what else is new?

2. 2. 12

my father, my mother, Yeats, golden apples & silver apples – reading by PD Lyons

read by PD Lyons poet~

The Song of the Wandering Aengus by WB Yeats & Somewhere Still by PD Lyons

The Song of the Wandering Aengus by WB Yeats from Eveeryman’s Poetry, J.M. Dent, Orien Publishing. London 1998 Somewhere Still by PD Lyons from When You Worship Swans No Longer Limited Edition, Supported by Westmeath County Arts, 2017

 

The Song of Wandering Aengus

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

Source: The Wind Among the Reeds (1899)

.Noun. 1. Aengus – Celtic god of love and beauty; patron deity of young men and women. Angus, Angus Og, Oengus.

SOMEWHERE STILL by PD Lyons

Somewhere there is still a place, you sitting in the sun, concrete porch paving slabs, Cape Cod Grey picnic table, small summer savages running jumping clinging – immune bare feet impervious to sun. Skin frosted with salt, lotions, cake icing.
Somewhere children still take your hand, invite you to cross the street walk with them down to the beach, taking them sometimes instead to lunch…
Long-time companions, comforts of old age, afternoon naps, books, TV, mail order catalogues, big band music and too those ever-dangerous memories – love, marriage, a hole never in twenty-three years has time healed.
Somewhere she still takes you by the hand. Ohs your name laughs into the open window, Fifty-five Chevy, summer bright chrome. So close to flying great American V8 highways up through the Canadian border dwindling into heavy Nova Scotia sands.
There has never been an ocean too cold for her to swim in. Long after your retreat to safety – Flamingo towels, Knickerbocker beer, USMC Zippo, Old Gold cigarette spiral prayers. Gratitude at last. Unable to fathom any reason to feel bad about surviving.
Deep breath wonderful (not a god damn palm tree in sight). Watch that woman of the sea; only wish there would never have to be a time to leave.
Later she gets tipsy; acquiescing when the waiter offers to sweeten her drink no knowing here to sweeten means more liquor. Out on the dance floor, hold each other tight as you want because she’s your wife now and you always liked the Mills Brothers.
Sometime after midnight, small cedar room, Stuart tartan blankets, crisp white sheets. Strange night sounds traipsing gingham curtains. As if tiny fingers, she ohs your name. Answer back with words you never knew before.
This spring by the sea your little house will not find you. Gone now perhaps to wander just like W.B. said –
Glimmering girl once more beside you and pluck
Till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
(For: D.R.L. – with regards to W.B. Yeats, his favourite poet.)

Two from My Childhood Home in Waterbury Ct. by PD Lyons. read by the poet

When we Lived on Nelson Ave.
PD Lyons

days when my father took milk and sugar
leaving the spoon in his coffee
my mother whistled among lilacs and roses
mahogany furniture kept well polished
 special knives and forks only used on holidays

I knew the name of Lilly of the valley
not to ever put them in your mouth

there were kittens in the sun porch
we watched born from a tabby cat named Felix

there were cherries from our backyard tree
so red I thought they were black,
tasting like no cherries
ever would again

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

The Girl Next Door 
By PD Lyons

When I remember
Third floor windows
Tall white lace sails
Summer all running in our veins
Her mother in the kitchen
Making cool aid and plate full of something
Cookie sweet to eat

She wanted me to stay
I was afraid, wanted to go home
But didn’t want her to know
Not wanting to be in this house of too many windows
Overlooking the valley

But she wanted me to stay
Besides the rains begun
Going to be a real storm
Already rumblings a darkening horizon

 her mother agreed
I’ll call your parents. They won’t be worried.
You can stay for supper. You like hot dogs don’t you?

 that was how I learned not to be afraid of storms
Not to hide from thunder or lightning
Frances and her mother, exuberant
Ohs  ahs  joy over every
Menacing vibration sudden crash
Every flash veining skeletal zigzag

Twilight Zone Episode Love Story by PD Lyons ~ read by the author

a girl, a bar, a friend, a gin, a city ~

a bit of memory lane

from the book ~ As If the Rain Fell in Ordinary Time, by PD Lyons, 2019

 

the poet PD Lyons reading the erbacce-prize for poetry 2019

the poet PD Lyons reading from the book. Winner of the erbacce-prize for poetry 2019.

today’s menu

Grandview Ave.

Morning Piece

Jack, Who No One Reads

~ Themes: cities, love, coffee, crushing, Waterbury ct. New haven ct. NYC.NY.

1975 for Ludwig Van a brother by PD Lyons

and now is not

the grass

the wind

the sunlight

the clouds shadow

the storms glory

the evenings soft

more yours

the resounding songs of joy

brighter clearer

or

just my own imagination

and you have always been more than close

to what is one

love

wherever I am I will be loving

wherever I am there is no more