Friday, July 14, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: THESE STORMS -- A Poem

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: THESE STORMS -- A Poem: I feel for storms that deep rumbling, dischord that quickly sweeps and cloaks all that is bright and light until they B R E A K ...

Thursday, July 13, 2017

THESE STORMS -- A Poem

I feel for storms
that deep rumbling, dischord
that quickly sweeps and cloaks
all that is bright and light

until they B R E A K --
releasing the torrent, 
        the black torment
in a swirl of din, 
                            wind, 
                                        and sway
until all that was pent
is spent

and
washed away.

By Mary E. Lohan 

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: To the Weary Self - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corn...

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: To the Weary Self - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corn...: It's not over although you're tired and your bones conspire to retire       rise Even when they cheat you work furiously to...

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 

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: Sine of Life - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")...

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: Sine of Life - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")...: Life is a sine curve -- slide and climb, never constant never satisfied never fulfilled always leading to a "turn" that ma...

Sine of Life - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

Life is a sine curve --
slide and climb,
never constant
never satisfied
never fulfilled
always leading
to a "turn"
that makes you
feel something,
life breathing soft
upon your pores,
fingertips to lips,
prompting sensation
elation --
intoxication
is the end
only to want
to start again
fall over the
edge and die
waiting for
the next tide.

By Mary E. Lohan



Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Thoughts on the Steps of Butler Library - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

And you couldn't have known me,
couldn't have loved me
like I thought you did
even though your kiss
was a gift each time
upon my brow

and now,
I think upon those times,
      how much of that rush
was me
reading between the lines
of our affection?

Under this vast sky
of deepest blue
amidst the flocked
cry of starlings
from atop these majestic
columns
I am moved

moved by what
this deep blue sky
this flock of birds
these wispy white clouds
can do to me

and yet,
is it not I
who makes them 'moving'
lest everyone should stop,
gape and sigh
at this night's wonderful gifts

as I debate
whether there was love
and not just lust,
between the sheets
of you and I.

By Mary E. Lohan

Monday, May 8, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: What are They ... - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corn...

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: What are They ... - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corn...: What are they these Rubenesque drifters that layer, like skin, this stratified sky,      impartial to none, to above nor below, but do c...

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 above 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

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Progress - A poem

Charts,
points of
flux:

     high, low,
     plateau

we plot for
progress

itch for
growth.

By Mary E. Lohan



Monday, May 1, 2017

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

Saturday, April 29, 2017

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

MOMA - A Poem (From "Speaking to the Darkness")

Cezanne - Still Life with Apples
The sun
kindles the sky

I dodge the New
York suits
the anthill scramble
of lunchtime,

pay the speckled lady
in the white, wide lobby
to broach the mazes
of these boxed halls,

the din of school kids
directionless
    spins then falls,

Gauguin - Still Life with Three Puppies
up the aligned
escalators we go,
lovers and others,
like me, alone, stroll

at the top, Marina
Abramovic --
B&W films roll
suspended,

within a few steps
post-war tension

jiggling breasts
one feminine
face, aghast
     upended

mid-scream
     extended --

Picasso's Wives & Lovers
I retreat to spaces
less impeding --
the calm and familiar
floors beneath:

Still Life with Apples,
Cezanne,
stippled, deep landscapes,
Renoir,
plumes of color,
Matisse,
Still Life with Three Pupplies,
Gauguin,
     But
why does Picasso's
Wives and Lovers
sadden me so?

I leave burdened
by their loss
of color, their heavy
lined faces
that have yet
to grieve

Until she bids me
stay --

The Girl Behind 
a Mirror with her
bright gestured
wave

with so much to say

like Christina 
from her World*
reaching, reaching,
     Come back for me...

I cannot leave
     yet
with one still to see,
Roulin**,

a tourist
videotapes
him, spright,
proud,
always a
showman

his beard
blaring from
behind the glass

What a precocious
     fellow:
Always a flirt.


By Mary E. Lohan


*Christina's World - Wyeth
**Portrait of Joseph Roulin - Van Gogh

MOMA - Museum of Modern Art

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Halo - A poem (From "Four Folded Corners"

you are not dead
     although that might not seem as bad

four screws

with shaking hands
he drives them
     one by one
     into your skull
building
an erector set
of metal rods

a bone anchored
helmet
so heavy
you are unable to
lie down
without assistance

consider yourself
paralyzed  or
the host
of a tumor
to receive this honor

you don't cry
     not until
he bolts
your head to
the table
slides your body
into an MRI
     so narrow
your elbows
     rub its insides

how do you keep
your sanity
     when its about
      to leave you?

r-e-s-t-r-a-i-n-t

wiggling your toes
     you count and cry
pray you will not
     regurgitate and die

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.....

By Mary E. Lohan

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: LIC (Long Island City), New York - A Poem (2015)

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: 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 towe...

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

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: Oceancrest B&B - A Poem

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: Oceancrest B&B - A Poem: Misty darkness the thrumbing windshield wipers the flared "flow this way" mark on roads that look like arrows -- to us Americ...

Oceancrest B&B (2014) - A Poem

Misty darkness
the thrumbing windshield wipers
the flared "flow this way"
mark on roads that look
like arrows -- to us Americans

it sits back from the Atlantic
at the base of a stairway
an open invitation
to the Promenade

I have come to breathe
find myself once again
in the sunsets and panoramas
that inspire awe.

By Mary E. Lohan

Friday, April 21, 2017

Thursday, April 20, 2017

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

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: The Mechanics of Birth - A Poem (from "Four Folded...

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: The Mechanics of Birth - A Poem (from "Four Folded...: They don't tell you      that you'll have to lie flat      on your back      hold your own legs      from behind your knees a...

The Mechanics of Birth - A Poem (from "Four Folded Corners")

They don't tell you
     that you'll have to lie flat
     on your back
     hold your own legs
     from behind your knees

and pull them toward you
     as close to you
     as your bulging belly will allow

and that he may criticize you
     for not knowing how to push
     for not taking Lamaze.

You've only known him
     as the small, gray-haired
     Russian    who barely smiles
     tells you you've gained too much weight --
     this being your first is no excuse.

They don't tell you
     he may deny you an epidural
     when you can't bare it any longer.

Initally,
    you said you'd try
         to go Natural
    but that was before
    the labor peaked
         paralyzing you.

Or that
     he might wait too long
     and then,
          you'd have no choice.

Natural childbirth
     Pushing
     How can one push "wrong"?

"Breathe, hee hee hoo hoo," she says
"When you feel the need to push, do so,
and hold til I count to ten."
The nurse thinks she's helping.

She counts, but she's distracted.
Her counting slows down, is off beat --
"Hold it -- no -- don't make a sound,"
but I release off cue.

Failure
A failure at pushing
at giving birth to my own son.

Time to hold my breath, wait,
expel --

We're like two rhythm-less dancers
on the floor --
I'm up to 10, she's on 8
I can't wait,
expel.

They don't tell you not to moan or groan
beforehand --
wasted energy --
but you can't speak.

My face reddens up,
cheeks puff up,
vessels pop beneath my eyes.

Baby's on the brink of crowning

"You have to try harder," he says,
"He can't stay that way much longer."

And all I can think of
     because I'm muted in pain
is someone save my baby.

I scream, fuck the rules
I push and scream, I still can't speak
     Push, push -- help.

Within moments, he cuts me,
     and my son slides free --

He's wriggling but quiet,
I look at my husband and cry,
     "Is he okay?"

"He's fine... beautiful," he says,
     "Lie quiet."

In a flash, he is weighed
     I hear his cry,
and he's cleaned,
     dried.

And his eyes ---
     opened wide.

He lies in my trembling arms
     a big, head-full-of-hair boy
eyes blinking through the balm --
     Hi, Mom.

By Mary E. Lohan

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

What Lays Hidden - a Poem


What lays hidden
flutters
begs attention
until one day
I utter
a mention
and all that
flutters
flies away.


By Mary E. Lohan

Monday, April 17, 2017

Nurse - A Poem

How very little can be done under the spirit of fear - Florence Nightingale

I lie on the table
striking a pose
for the ultrasound tech,
half on my back
right arm bent
over my head,

the doctor arrives,
a round older man,

a needle of lidocane
then pressure,
an extended buzz,

a breast biopsy is not fun,

still, it's the nurse,
who gets my
attention,

she has grabbed
my hand mid-procedure
is hunkered in close,
talking about "La La Land"
and other light fare

her attention on me
doesn't waiver,

"Squeeze my hand
if you have to,"
"I'm okay," I say
brave

I'm surprised
how shakey I am
afterwards

"likely the
epinephrine"

she steadies me
stays with me,
wraps my wounds
carefully

we are like sisters
talking about boys,
altho' the topic is
about wounds
and infection

she sends me off
with an icepack, ace
bandages wrapped
tight about my breasts,
and advice,

and when I arrive
home, I am calm,

as if she is still there,
hunkered in,
holding my hand,

somehow,
her spirit has stayed,

and I am less
and less afraid.

By Mary E. Lohan

Note: A very special thank you to Nurse Carmella at Ocean Medical Center 

Saturday, April 15, 2017

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

Friday, April 14, 2017

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. 

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Pink Moon, Old Moon - A Poem


Wispy white clouds
a golden, brilliant sun
slowly surrender
to twilight
and there you are
white wafer moon
greeting me

like you have greeted
my father,
his father,
my people,
all people,
since the beginning,

bearing witness
guiding tribes

     the pink wave
paints the Great Plains
under your nightlight,
     parents hide eggs
for children,
a Sunday delight

the prayers of millions
will be said
      soft and slow

for those delivered
     safely
for the One who gave up
     bravely

within your sight.

By Mary E. Lohan

Your Eyes: A Poem (From "Two of Cups": A New York Poet in Galway"

When I revel
in your eyes
I die --

become one
with the moon
and sun

rising and falling
with your every
tide.

By Mary E Lohan

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: Bissjon (Lovanger, Sweden) - A Poem

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: Bissjon (Lovanger, Sweden) - A Poem: By happenstance, I am here beneath this forever sky that stretches beyond memory candy pink haze vanilla and blue hues of light u...

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


You linger

a twilight sky
full of stars
cannot compete

all is quiet

except for the rustling of leaves
stirred by your breath

as you move
between worlds.


By Mary E. Lohan

Bissjon (Lovanger, Sweden) - A Poem



By happenstance,
I am here
beneath this forever sky
that stretches
beyond memory

candy pink haze
vanilla and blue hues
of light until dusk

a yellow cottage
sits at the gate
of this quaint hamlet

purchased from
the quiet diary farmer
who tends to the lengths
of land and hay

happenstance
has plucked me,

from the bustle
of New York
and dropped me here
at the Northern most
reaches of the Earth

closer to the Mongols
than ever before

We drive to the market
foraging for food
amongst the foreign
letters and staples  --

sandwich cakes topped
with seafood are a sight
to behold

English is a visitor
that comes and goes

We pay for bags
and jump into the
rented Volvo that
runs for miles upon miles
on diesel

travel over
smooth, perfect
highway roads
guarded by
camera traffic
"eyes"

pines line the way
abound like skyscrapers
in a huge city

they fall away
to expose an expanse
of farmland

the sky
looming large, vast
and limitless

in winter
these roads are
refuges from the
swaths of snow drifts
that engulf feet and legs
with a crunch

in spring
these wildflower
lined paths take you
through emerald
and gold seas
straight to the
gate of
Oz.

By Mary E. Lohan

Monday, April 10, 2017

For-word Play - a poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

I know you like me
     when I dress up in punctuation
flaunt my vowels,
     strut my diction in a standard font,

Who needs a negligee, Baby --
     I've got words.


By Mary E. Lohan 

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: What Made Me Cry - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corne...

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: What Made Me Cry - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corne...: It wasn't boarding the plane with my preschool child, his face reddened from crying, from not wanting to leave Dad from fearing ...

What Made Me Cry - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

It wasn't
boarding the plane
with my preschool child,
his face reddened
from crying,
from not wanting
to leave Dad
from fearing the new,
the unknown,

or holding my toddler
for seven hours
straight
in the airport
on the plane,

or that I made
several trips
to the onboard
bathroom
to change
a Pamper
to play
in the sink
to change
a Pamper
to play
in the sink
to accompany
my older  son,
to change
a Pamper
to play
in the sink,

It wasn't
arriving in Ireland
tired
beleaguered
worn down
from contemplating
the state of us
of our marriage,

it wasn't the nights
of struggle
trying to get the kids
to sleep
without you,
in a pitch black
back-country room,

together --
a toddler
and preschool child
with battling bottles

it wasn't
from feeling alone
or unsure,

it wasn't
the returning flight
delayed
leaving us additional
hours to fill

or that my mom
was overtired,
having not slept
from an excursion
to the pub
the night before,

it wasn't
the added trips
to the bathroom
to the plane's kitchen
or me following
one son, after another,

or holding
the smaller one
on my lap as he
played with someone
behind me

or that I hadn't slept well
in over a week,
or that I couldn't sleep
on the plane,
although I had
been awake
for more than
24 hours

it wasn't because
I sat on the floor
while the plane
was in the air,
so that my sons
could lie down
using my seat
to stretch out on,

     it was the passenger
who approached me
as I sat on the floor
beside my toddler,
     who leaned into my ear
and whispered in a soft,
kind, reassuring voice --

"You're such a patient,
wonderful mom."


By Mary E. Lohan


Friday, April 7, 2017

Revelation - Poem (From "Four Folded Corners"

girl child hides
in food stamp lines
behind mother's skirt,
     legs,
          coat,

afraid of faces,
     eyes,

studies floors
     tirelessly

holds her mother's hand tighter

     and asks in a whisper
twenty years later

where have all the men
     in this family

gone?

By Mary E. Lohan

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

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

Even on these
summer days
when the heat
within and
without stirs
me to move,
I can find
respite in
your eyes --
their tempestuous
pools beckoning
billowy breezes,
spontaneous sun
showers, sweet
wet earth,
relief.

By Mary E. Lohan

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: #MOMA - A Poem

Mary E. Lohan ~ Poetry: MOMA - A Poem: Cezanne - Still Life with Apples The sun kindles the sky I dodge the New York suits the anthill scramble of lunchtime, pay the ...

Monday, April 3, 2017

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

You towed my luggage
with care, without complaint
     up, down, in, out
     up, down, in, out
so easy it seemed
     two cases, two other things

I realize now
     baggage unseen
     is harder to move.


By Mary E. Lohan

Thank You to IAW&A and IAYL

It was fabulous being part of the Irish-American Creative Expo Day 2 at the Marriott Marquis Hotel in Times Square yesterday. Lots of music, poetry, prose, singing and yes, in addition to reading some of my poems, I even put on my dancing shoes!

A wonderful time with some very lovely people. I look forward to the next one!

Onwards and upwards,
Mary   

Friday, March 31, 2017

Later - A Poem (From "Two of Cups: A New York Poet in Galway")

One day
when time stops
you may see
footsteps
impressions
long melted away
that diverge
and circle
and ponder anew
their course

you may recall
my face
faintly
our drives through
the countryside
or not,

yet
I will remember
this dull ache
the deepest eyes
the pursing of
your lips
right before
the dawn
of your smile.

By Mary E. Lohan

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Life is Not Tidy - A Poem

Life is not tidy

we must forge
a path 
through thickets

and recircle
time and time
again
another day

until
we emerge 
from the maze

amazed.

By Mary E. Lohan