Tag Archives: westmeath

LOCH LENE by pd lyons, from When you Worship Swans No Longer


Undulate of diamond silhouettes

 North wind skirts pirouette

just past a fishing heron

fingerling samurai silver shadow

breath so deep it echoes

not one golden dream left behind

you’re where I’m gonna be forever

(for shelly)

Title Piece from newest release


WORSHIP SWANS NO LONGER

When you worship swans no longer

Will you find your way to me?

Smoke rising in a breathless voice

Winding between shade and sun

 A dream begun on dew drops

  Daring midday like a ghost

Vowing never to fly

From your embrace

Special First Edition Limited to 150: each numbered and signed by the poet.

Price includes worldwide shipping by regular post in padded envelope.

15.00 EUROS

Items shipped upon receipt of order (purchase through Paypal)

Contact: pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk

With your shipping information and any queries.

Additional inscription on request.

(Numbered books selected randomly)

“PD Lyons work stands at the threshold so loved in Ireland. That almost magical, almost mythical, almost otherworldly parallel that the Irish dip in and out of. Where we chose to believe in luck and superstition and destiny and embrace these as tangible factors in our daily lives. – from the forward by Una O’Neill D’Arcy, Journalist/Freelance Writer

Thank you in advance for supporting this project!

Only August by pd lyons (Worship Swans Version)


 

 

 

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

 

WANTING TO BE IN THE OLD TONGUE by PD LYONS as read by the poet ~



from the book When You Worship Swans no Longer by PD Lyons.

Poetry inspired by the village of Fore, County Westmeath and surrounding areas of Ireland, by an Irish American poet.

“PD Lyons work stands at the threshold so loved in Ireland. That almost magical, almost mythical, almost otherworldly parallel that the Irish dip in and out of. Where we chose to believe in luck and superstition and destiny and embrace these as tangible factors in our daily lives.” – from the forward by Una O’Neill D’Arcy, ~Journalist/Freelance Writer

Thank you in advance for supporting this project!

Special First Edition Limited to 150: each numbered and signed by the poet. Price includes worldwide shipping by regular post in padded envelope. 20.00 dollars US/15 euros Ireland/20 euros rest of Europe/15. sterling Items shipped upon receipt of order (purchase through Paypal) Contact: pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk With your shipping information and any queries. Additional inscription on request. (Numbered books selected randomly)

Generously  by the Westmeath County Council Arts.

 

 

 

WANTING TO BE IN THE OLD TONGUE

 

Words

Someday

Someone

Might say to you.

Unimportant memories

Aroused to beauty non-the-less

Like cobwebs beaded up with dew,

Brass fittings on a cedar door,

Day’s debris randomly swept into a banked-up fire

Before to your own black iron bed you’d slowly go.

 

 

With all our coming and our going

Will we ever meet again?

Fragile as the moth is the flame

One slight breath

And darkness has us all.

W/that in mind, I mind no dancer

Let us join whatever way we can

Before the waiting darkness

Makes us all fall down.

 

Clumsy fingers

Holds her own heavy breast skyward

As if the moon, areole hungry

Wouldn’t have found communion

Without guidance.

 

Gentle at the end of the world

Even rocks all soft

And buds of lilac silver slanting sun.

And when gems of green roll down

Meet the slate blue sea

Gently rippled by disappearing pearls?

 

Somewhere we still know women who paint the things we see in dreams

 

Wanting to be in the old tongue

January crows gather.

From the eviction house

Another row of slate slips.

Sun orange fingers

Poke dark shy pillows,

Disturbing bread crumb dreams,

Little red breast birds.

 

Shouldn’t you be left alone?

Cradled in the earth for another thousand years or so?

Discovered as some tantalising source

Of artefactual speculation:

Those marks –

True cause of death,

Or left by some post mortem carnivore?

Perhaps sacrificial ritual,

Signs still legible,

Though fading as if

Some water colour in reverse

Until only bare bleached paper

Slightly stained.

 

Ghost steps.

My warm eastern mouth nourishes,

My amniotic fingers curl,

Personal history noted,

As if by some distant observer

Swirled into tight sips

Almost impossible to savour.

 

Between the posts at midnight

A long wire of electricity

Calls little bits of rusting iron

To lantern the siesta heart away.

 

words and photographs by pd lyons


 

Roses swollen with rain

 

full breasts dreaming for the hungry mouths of bees

soft in a gold of sunshine sung by small birds invisible

day dream ripples dull grey puddle answers spilling over the edge

storm gutters blocked by neglect

and wishes would ride the open mouth kisses of our own

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How the Green Witch Loved the Winter Man as read by the author


One for the winter days. Hope you all like it. Special thanks to Morgan for the video. From the collection of PD Lyons poetry, When You Worship Swans No Longer.

.

 

 

 

 

When You Worship Swans No Longer: Poetry by

by P D Lyons

Poetry inspired by the village of Fore County Westmeath and surrounding areas of Ireland, by an Irish American poet.

Special First Edition Limited to 150: each numbered and signed by the poet.

Price includes worldwide shipping by regular post in padded envelope.

20.00 dollars US/15 euros Ireland/20 euros rest of Europe/15. sterling

Items shipped upon receipt of order (purchase through Paypal)

Contact: pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk

With your shipping information and any queries.

Additional inscription on request.

(Numbered books selected randomly)

,

Thank you in advance for supporting this project!

Waltzing Miss Jeanie from As if the rain Fell in Ordinary Time – read by the poet


Happy to share with you one of the poems appearing in As if the rain fell in Ordinary Time. A collection of my work published by erbacce-press . I was honored and humbled by their selecting me as the finalist of the erbacce prize for poetry 2019.  (Details to be found below.)

This is my first foray into the video recording world but not the last. Intending to do more with my own work and once we perfect the jitters and my delivery  a little more , the work of other artists.. 

Anyway thank you for reading and for listening. hope you enjoy it. This one is for all you horse lovers out there!

And a special thank you to Shelly who guided me through the high tech end and had the patience to go through more than a few bloopers 

Cheers!

 

 

 

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: 112 pages)

http://erbacce-press.webeden.co.uk/p-d-lyons/4586525519 

 

 

 

Title Piece from newest release


WORSHIP SWANS NO LONGER

When you worship swans no longer

Will you find your way to me?

Smoke rising in a breathless voice

Winding between shade and sun

 A dream begun on dew drops

  Daring midday like a ghost

Vowing never to fly

From your embrace

Special First Edition Limited to 150: each numbered and signed by the poet.

Price includes worldwide shipping by regular post in padded envelope.

20.00 dollars US /15 euros Ireland /20 euros rest of Europe /15 UK sterling

Items shipped upon receipt of order (purchase through Paypal)

Contact: pdlyonspoet@yahoo.co.uk

With your shipping information and any queries.

Additional inscription on request.

(Numbered books selected randomly)

“PD Lyons work stands at the threshold so loved in Ireland. That almost magical, almost mythical, almost otherworldly parallel that the Irish dip in and out of. Where we chose to believe in luck and superstition and destiny and embrace these as tangible factors in our daily lives. – from the forward by Una O’Neill D’Arcy, Journalist/Freelance Writer

Thank you in advance for supporting this project!

true


 

ever onward something goes

just back from the walk poem, first draft by pd lyons


 

a painted picture

left out before the snow

the wind blows through it

an old sheet of organic plastic

caught on

torn on

hard   wire

a post of whiskers greyer than the stone which holds it

loos ends going no where on each side

cattle long ago

bones softened

no memory even earths recalls them now

hard ground

brown ground

no trail to keep you from getting lost

no place really left to get lost

incline

something shadowy even though its sunlight

fingering illuminating

another afternoon

good fortune

among the winter

 

 

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