Holiday with family


After two months of blogging, my family have decided to drag me off on holiday,¬†to give all of you a break. ūüôā

For those of you new to my blog, I just want to point out that I have around 200 postings that may prove interesting.

Thanks again for following and showing appreciation for my efforts.


J M Lysun

My many faces



The mask you see upon my face,
Is the one I choose this place to grace.
It is one of many I share today,
With others mind they’re meant to play.
One maybe humble, the other meek,
When together they barely speak.
There are many faces I can display,
I choose them for what I have to say.
They can look polite and with words delight,
But don’t be fooled by just their sight.
If the brash me, you meet along the street,
Fear not he does not always think the way he speaks.
If with the cunning one, a plan you do now hatch,
Be aware that his words are made to match.
My happy face is made for pleasing.
I wear it when, with laughter, I am teasing.
When out, the sad one is the one that’s left behind,
As revealing my darkness would not be kind.
Sometimes my many faces are hard to bear;
It becomes difficult to choose which one to wear.
When these self doubts grow and grip my mind
Contentment and happiness is hard to find


J M Lysun

Sun burn



Another summer day,
Quickly passes away.
Full of sunny promises,
That are never here to stay.
What happens in brightness,
Are usually full of lightness.
But what happened today,
Was really not that way.
I was lying in the sun,
Having a lot of fun,
Got sunburnt on my cheek,
Now looking like a freak.
I ran into the shade,
Hoping it would fade.
Alas, it was too late,
What an awful fate.
I didn’t heed the warning,
When I started yawning.
What a price to pay,
Nothing more to say.

J M Lysun

For the love of a rose



What pain was felt for a rose.
When he realised his love,
She did in haste oppose.

If the thorn that struck,
Did strike a lesser man,
And did its venom seep,
Into his heart so deep.
Today you’d weep,
And he’d ever sleep.

But fate did play,
A gentle hand this day.
Though love did part,
From his grieving heart,
And tears did flow,
As did venom show,
Its pain did not linger,
As no ring to bind his finger.

Accepting what had to be
From his heart he set her free.
But so hard his love did grasp,
when he did unclasp,
Blood did from his finger flow,
Full of tears and sorrow,
With a wish for a better tomorrow.


J M Lysun

Memories that make me




There are memories that I am fond of.
Others that I’d like to forget.
One without the other wouldn’t be me.
There are moments that I shared,
That showed clearly that I cared.
There are moments that I feared.
Whilst others, when challenged I appeared.
There are moments that I loved,
Others that I shoved.
There are moments I did wrong,
Whilst in others, I was strong.
There are moments I did good,
But was never understood.
Some scary moments I still remember,
Where I refused to surrender.
Such memories are part of me.
It should be plain for all to see,
That one without the other,
Would clearly not be me.



J M Lysun




¬†‚ÄúYou have a grand gift for¬†silence, Watson. It makes you quite¬†invaluable¬†as a companion.‚ÄĚ

(Sherlock Holmes/Sir Arthur Conan Doyle).

I hear that “silence” is invaluable,
And yet it is the noise of life that brings richness of experience and wealth.
It is only when you realise “nothingness” brings total “silence”,
That you will finally understand, the universe is telling you, “Nothing” is invaluable.
If you know where to look, all can be found in abundance in the universe,
And all that you find deserve to be treated with equal value.
It is only the need of the moment that tips the balance.
Ask the thirsty man lost in a desert and he will tell you.

J M Lysun




The tears for tomorrow are bitter sweet;
Having learnt from the past,
They speak of what can be,
What should be.

The tears for today are full of sorrow;
Fresh with past memories,
These speak of what was,
What could have been.

The tears of yesterday no longer sting;
Lost in time, their venom is dulled,
Only an echo in the dark,
Eventually forgotten.



J M Lysun

Changes in our time



The sign of our time,
Is the change in clime.
With water everywhere,
But not a drop to spare.
We try to harness the sun,
To make everything run.
We look towards the oceans,
To harness all its motions.
We look towards the wind,
To harness all the spin.
But of the many things we do,
Curbing our needs is overdue.
With much waste to dispose,
Used in haste we should oppose.
Why so many lights in the night,
When there’s no one on site?
Why create things that delight,
When our oceans they do blight?
With land and oceans polluted,
Treasures of the earth all looted.
With virgin forests depleting,
Carnage everywhere repeating.
Where do we go from here?
Can you not sense the fear?
Tornadoes more frequent
Polar melting in sequent.
Isn’t it time to change,
And to think long range?
It’s time to end the madness,
And stop the future sadness.



J M Lysun




Image from




Once the question of time,
Did consume my mind.
Its essence we do not know,
And yet we see it flow.
Like a rainbow it may be an illusion,
That in our mind makes an intrusion.
Though we measure it at our leisure,
Where it begins is never clear.
Where it ends we cannot peer.
Though the arrow of time we can see,
Moment to moment it seems to be.
Moving at greater speed with age,
Always quick to turn another page.
To the future we seem to rush,
Yet with the past we cannot brush.
Though time, we find, is quite sublime,
Its nature is not easy to define.
As an illusion observed in normality,
It’s a fundamental part of our reality.


J M Lysun

Cold of winter



If only the cold wind would die down,
And I could be left free from the torment.

Cold, cold is the bitter winter month.
Dark, dark is its mood.

Howling and full of chill,
It speaks of concealing the warmth of the sun
And laying low, the once fertile land.
Devoid of character, all is white.

White, white is the blanket that covers everything.
Bright, bright is its reflection in the day.

Inviting and playful and yet suffocating.
Glistening though it might be in the sun,
In the dark of winter it is merciless and treacherous,
Offering little comfort to the unwary and unprepared.

Silent, silent is the winter as it spreads and freezes hearts and souls.
Death, Death is what it brings.

Buried from the nourishing light all must wither, sleep or perish.
No more to grow but to weep until the end of winter.
Drawing strength from the certainty that winter too will pass away.
And in its wake will come rebirth and light; the seed of life.



J M Lysun

The sands of time



The sands of time,
How they moan and grind.
With ease they flutter in the wind,
Well aware of the earthly spin.
They watch mountains grow,
And mighty rivers flow.
Never a moment seen,
Where sand has never been.

The sands of time,
Towards the future they do us bind.
A path to past we may not find.
Noting every moment of every day,
With our minds they like to play.
Watching us turn from life to dust,
And blown away by a gentle gust.
Oh, to feel sand flow from start to end,
And to know they are truly not a friend.

The sands of time,
In their haste care not for any,
Being merely a passage of sorrow for many.
They never shed a tear for what was here.
Their purpose in our lives are never clear.
Ever forward they must flow,
How far they take us we never know.


J M Lysun

At the beach



One last day of summer by the beach,
I do beseech.

Free as can be,
To swim by the sea.

Waking in the morning,
Seeing beauty always dawning.

Hearing the waves crashing,
Giving the sand a lashing.

Being completely at peace,
With the sun in the east.

Being completely at rest.
When it falls in the west,

Without a single care,
And a lot of time to spare.

What I see is very pleasing,
My feet in sand always easing.

One last day by the beach
I do beseech.


J M Lysun

Stars at night



I gazed upon the sky at night,
And was amazed by what I saw,
Darkness blessed with light,
As I looked upon with awe.

How these stars do shine,
Twinkling as they do.
My heart they seek to bind,
As I wonder how they grew.

It’s easy to fall in love,
With the unending cosmic ocean;
As I look at the sky above,
And see these lights in motion.


J M Lysun

There be dragons



Torn between darkness and light,
Exuding heaven’s might,
The golden winged serpent flies,
Across the open skies.

With opened wings so vast,
It flies without a care.
With an endless shadow cast,
It rises in the air.

Bringing its mighty wings to bear,
Armours glistening in the sun,
Its brightness draws a stare,
Spoiling all the fun.

Looking full of heaven’s glory,
Silent and golden bright.
As foretold in many a story,
Its truly an awesome sight.

Seeing the mighty fire breather,
High above was rare,
The villagers break into fever,
And launch arrows in the air.

This disturbed the mighty dragon,
Who gave them an angry glare.
He set fire to an empty wagon,
To give them all a scare.


J M Lysun

Cleopatra’s needle -London



One of three obelisks bearing the name Cleopatra’s Needle.
The Sphinxes were meant to face away from the obelisk.



So alone and ignored.
With guardian sphinxes,
staring at you mockingly.
A Symbol of Ancient Egyptian glory;
now merely a trophy,
mounted, presented
and even forgotten.
Your once proud granite face,
looking gaunt and misplaced,
concealed in plain sight,
amongst an alien scenery.
How knowing you were given away,
by your own kin,
must rankle your heart.
Oh, the shame.
What befell your people?
What brought them low?
The glories etched on your
sides are now forgotten
by those passing in your shadow.
To be touched and marked by Kings,
then for millennia ignored.
“Oh, Cleopatra, Caesar, Mark Antony”
I hear you cry in anguish.
How tormenting it must be,
to be witness to so much and
be silenced by time.


J M Lysun

In a dream



The smell of roses far away,
as I walk among the clouds.
Images of my children play,
with birds singing in a crowd.

Crying voices heard aloud,
with angels standing near.
Faces veiled in shroud,
to conceal the hidden tear.

In my hand sits a bowl,
of glistening golden peach.
Next I feel my soul,
sitting by the beach.

With blinking eyes I know,
life is always near.
The sun will glow,
and make this very clear.


J M Lysun

River of light



What wonder flows in the night,
reflecting the harvest moon?
Cool and glistening bright;
is the light that makes lovers swoon

A never ending flow,
dancing with delight .
Reflecting twilights glow,
this unending wave so bright.

Gentle to my eyes.
Always kind to my soul,
to see a river flowing free,
along  the silent knoll.

So full of ebbing motions,
and restful sounds.
Giving me wonderful emotions,
from the heavens, it now grounds.

This wonder that flows in the night,
reflecting the harvest moon,
it is truly my hearts delight.
A lovers boon.


J M Lysun

Flight of the Condor




Gentle is the breeze I ride.
High above the clouds so high.
With my wings extended,
and no energy expended.
I reach across the sky and glide.
From my sight you cannot hide.
A shadow do I spread.
My presence brings you dread.
Far away from wondering eyes.
Commanding the open skies.
No spring chicken do I seek.
No lively creatures do I eat.
I arrive in time to greet your death.
Having smelt your laboured breath.
With you I come to dine.
I come to feast upon your spine.


J M Lysun

The lighthouse



Wave after wave,
and yet there is no give.
No walls to cave,
Just the will to live.

A beacon of hope,
standing in isolation.
Providing a life giving rope,
to guide away from desolation.

Fiercely blows the wind,
in its effort to topple the mighty walls.
Blunted, its powers will rescind.
Left to make only angry calls

The howl is mournful,
as the wall stand strongly defiant
Ever scornful,
it flashes lights that are riant.

The beacon of hope,
shines ever bright.
Helping lost men to cope,
against natures might.

When their eyes,
do meet this light.
With relieving sighs,
they do delight.

Home they safely go.
Steering towards waters calm.
Blessed by heavens glow,
they were kept away from harm.


J M Lysun