Train of Thought - A Poem

It becomes you

The gelatinous translucence
spurs debate
which prompts silence
    outwardly,
inwardly the gears turn
and the engines
    churn

We cannot escape ourselves
regardless of the category,
generation

We have consumed
the fallacy
of what our lives should mean
as we go from tangent to tangent,
then back again

It becomes you,
the longer you think about it.

By Mary E. Lohan 

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

What are They ... - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

Photo by Shack in the Swamp Photography

What are they these Rubenesque drifters
that layer, like skin, this stratified sky,
     impartial to none, to above nor below,
but do cry

they that sit upon Heaven's shelf
     that cradle the daystar with their faith
and metamorphose into resplendent pillows
     where retired halos lay

they that melt, blending smooth as cream into dusk
     or fluff, like whipped thick egg whites
to be brushed in masses between the amethyst
     cadmium, lapis splashes of eventide,

can you decide?
 

By Mary E. Lohan

Progress - A poem

Charts,
points of
flux:

     high, low,
     plateau

we plot for
progress

itch for
growth.

By Mary E. Lohan

Nothing is Constant - Poem (From "Two of Cups")

Nothing is constant -
today's strength
is tomorrow's weakness
and the point,
forever shifting.

I have seen storms
that could drown
even you

yet, in my weakest moment
I draw strength
as a sail would
and fly,

if it were not you I'd be gone,
but I cannot just leave,
I will linger as clouds do
before they are swept
or blown away.

By Mary E. Lohan

Our December (1994) (From "Four Folded Corners")

This New York snow
freezes cold
and all you do is pace
and flay,
say whatever comes to tongue
each gutteral flung
from your mouth
like blackened snow
under-
tire,
   
     I lean against a parked car
under fire,
afraid to blow a sigh
into this ice-picked wind
that might sling back

     and yet, my silence
brings a death
worse than dying,

I too
have learned to fall from heights
so quiet.

By Mary E. Lohan

LIC (Long Island City), New York - A Poem (2015)

It is as it was

We move along the suspended
track, winding through
smokestacks, edifices
without proper faces
toward the banking tower
the lone citadel of this
trash-strewn region

I have returned to
the borough of my youth
not out of want
but necessity
as this Barack era
has further stripped
the city of meaningful
work with benefits

It is as it was --
plentitude and barrenness
exchange greetings

I climb the stairs
to the office.

By Mary E. Lohan

Instructions on How to Clear Your Troubled Mind - A Poem (From "Speaking to the Darkness")

Calculate the misdeeds, list them, itemize them,
affix bold headings like Blame and push through

don't bother being fair
fairness is meant for those you respect

don't bother being polite
rudeness comes naturally and is a measure of might

yes, calculate the misdeeds
list them meticulously, then cite the wrong and the blame

then wonder why this list
(although the names differ) is always the same.

By Mary E. Lohan

I'm Not One to Question God - Poem

I'm not one

to question God

after all,

against the odds

you found me

lured me with

your charm

..I can't help

but get lost

in your arms

think of you

from afar,

I know you

have doubts

while I have faith,

I guess,

it comes down to

"What are the odds?"

but really,

I'm not one

to question God

and everything is but

a breath in space.

by Mary E. Lohan

Love (It can be...) -- A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

It can be

     a shackle,
a surname you can't spell
     or pronounce,
a placeholder in a large bed,
     a reason to corner her and vent,

but what if it were
     a momentary,
meaningful embrace,
     a softly whispered word,
a butterfly kiss,
   
wings.


By Mary E. Lohan

A special thanks to Shack in the Swamp Photography for use of their beautiful images on my blog. 

Movement - A Poem

When does a movement begin
is it when the cello string bends,
when an arm extends
or when a nerve spurs the need

does it require the collective
or just simply the one?
can it impact the galaxy
without involving the sun?

Experience tells us 
that movement can came as a wave
that bursts on the scene like in a movie
and then suddenly fades. 


By Mary E. Lohan

Love is not.. (From "Two of Cups")

Love is not
        a diamond
        a display
        a wedding

Love is not
        two becoming one
        a perfect fit
        sublime all the time

Love is
       a pure expression
       so utterly simplistic --

Love is kind.


By Mary E. Lohan

School Day Dismay (From "Four Folded Corners")

To my son, David

I file my frayed edges
     my frazzled day,

gather you in my arms,
     my sweet baby boy,

when tears hang
     from your lashes.


By Mary E Lohan

The Cursory Nefarious Network (CNN) - A Trump Presidency Poem

Freedom of the press is guaranteed only to those who own one. - AJ Liebling

World stage
curtains open

and enter,
the Puppeteers

lavishly coiffed,
a pageant show.

Teleprompters on
the script begins,

"Live!"

The arms and legs jump,
heads bob to and fro --

as we watch these
modern day Pinocchios

The crowd knows only
what they wish to portray,

"Believe!.. Believe!"

We are a puppetland,
     if we too listen
and move to their command.


By Mary E. Lohan 

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

Those were turbulent days

     like ships on scrambled waves

we crashed and swayed --

     drifted

Til in the orange tint of morn'

     with labored breath

we were reborn --

    until dusk

But the blues and greys of night

     begged insight as I redressed

redid, relit the silent inner fight --

     I submit,

You held the string to my flight,

     I was your kite. 

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

You at Two - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

To my son, Dillon

Oh, your inventory of smiles --

your crinkley-eyed smile,

your curling ribbon smile,

your 'uh-oh' smile,

Your head sandwiched in the 'fridge

watching the light

go on 

and 

off.

By Mary E. Lohan 

Bach Played on Guitar - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

Slender ivory bones bow

pluck and braid
celestial sounds

on taut strings.

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