Martin Lyons enjoys writing poetry and playing the piano. After a life of privately storing up his poems, he would now like to share them and see what response they receive. He has a vast collection and is delighted to send you three for your consideration.

THE VILLAGE

By Martin Lyons ©

A location that offers no help,
Or hinders no action,
Who listen with views,
Primed for cricism,
Who’ll discuss to be pleased,
Rather than to please,
Who’ll condemn what is yours,
And what they’ll never need,
Who’ll lie in wait for mistakes,
To ridicule the outcome,
A place worthy of no thought no remorse,
A battlefield of ignorance.

THE EGG-TIMER

By Martin Lyons ©

Life is like the egg-timer,
With such consistent flow,
Each day a grain of sand will drop,
Falling down below.

All youth’s demanding answers,
And needing them today,
While middle aged is shocked to find,
That youth has gone away.

But the aged have a special peace,
Detached through loss and gain,
Nothing really matters now,
But life, that dropping grain.

VOICES

Oh why almost in tomorrow,
It just feels like yesterday,
Where the pain and hurt and sorrow,
Follow on like it knows the way.
And then when I plead just guide me,
To the starry sky above,
Where the darkness walks beside me,
And silence whispers love.
Faint are the voices woken,
From within my haunted mind,
Some are dead but all have said,
Just leave the past behind.
2
Loud is the noisy rhythm,
That pounds within my ears,
Snatch away the leash that holds,
And feed me to my fears.
Rest is not the joy of sleep,
Refreshed with morning sun,
And peace is something I have known,
But not since I was young.