To the Weary Self - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

It's not over
although you're tired
and your bones conspire
to retire
      rise

Even when
they cheat you
work furiously to defeat you
refuse to meet you -- even halfway
     rise

There'll come an hour
if you stand and do not sour
when you shall reclaim your power
ten-fold -- I bid you,
    rise.



By Mary E. Lohan 

Mother - A Poem (from "Four Folded Corners")

She strings me words,
     gifts like pearls,
which I keep tucked away
     for special occasions.

By Mary E. Lohan

How Poems Come to Me - A Poem

They come to me
     like family,

when I fall out of bed at dawn
     or when I'm drowsy
about to asleep,

half in and out
of this world,

calling to me
     to let them in,
lest I forget,

calling my name
     from some far off place,
"We're coming over,
     we'll be right there!"

And when they arrive,
     it's like they were always
here, like I've never
     known life without them.

By Mary E. Lohan

Period - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

It is here
where I make the mark,
where I put a halt
to all the words that came before,

the rush of letters
that square dance their way into formation
around the numerous
open spaces of the line.

The strength it takes
to make this dot

     and yet,
what a mighty
tiny
blot     of ink.

By Mary E. Lohan

Ageism - A Poem (From "Two of Cups: A NY Poet in Galway")

On some days

     I am an age,

And yet it matters not

     to trees, clouds, cats

It's simply a way

     to discriminate,

longevity from brevity

Age guarantees naught.

By Mary E. Lohan

Crush - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

All is hushed
transient

Time becomes
the beat of your lips
speaking

There are no words
just your smile

I understand now --
Pain is pleasure,
Pleasure is plain

Keep speaking
and I'll try,
not to fall into your eyes.

By Mary E. Lohan