An Artist’s Soul


Artists soul


air hits
a dust covered menagerie
for the first time
in thirty six years
frightened silhouettes
reflect menacingly
in the nights detention
there is no moon
to light the way
for lost souls
with no choice but to remain
frozen, forgotten, lost in time

-L.J. Lenehan-

stripped away
raw and bare
picked apart
broken beyond repair
flesh hangs in shards
toiling skeletons
busy, busy, busy, always busy
searching for easily stolen souls.

-L.J. Lenehan-

A prisoner of my heart

you left me locked in my own emotions

I am so cold, waiting, for you to come back

to rescue me like the movies made in Hollywood

just another piece in your menagerie of hopeless souls

so in love with you but I live with the dead only to depend on me.

-L.J. Lenehan-

If Only, there were one more day

liberated, deep inside from my imagination,

religions call me,
but without my ability to make believe
all I can feel is a longing in my soul

creating a personal affair,
with unbroken barriers, love
never attempted to run up and over

I might give anything for one more day
with my imagination to create possibilities
like parents that celebrate me,

where doors open automatically for me,
where I keep my eyes instead of giving
them to those who told me I did wrong,

where God will see my heart
and love me enough to explain
the mysteries of life,

where strength is measured in moral power,
where it is widely understood that women’s intuition
creates their courageous self-sacrificing nature,

Oh, for one more day…

-L.J. Lenehan-


Remember Me

Intuitively the water calls me,
from below the glowing moon’s concern
I can hear an echo of hallelujah.

Drawing me into the violent divide
of ocean’s inner secrets
I dive, I swim out to sea.

What is true
is no longer believed
because no one remembers me,

my empty home,
my featureless face,
my emptiness on display,

in a society that never saw me.
The calm that was seen in me
makes sense,

the calm before the storm,
the calm before I swam,
the calm before I became the sea.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Photograph By: John Mangan Photography

remember me


Like an awkward coyote trying to read
a map, taunted by crows jeering from the gallery,
panic, if only I brought the right map.

My skin burns through disparaging shivers
of humiliation, self-loathing and embarrassing
premonitions of the price I have to pay.

Life sucked out of me by a swarm
of blood sucking mosquitoes left an itchy bag of bones,
how can I forget disparaging memories?

Muted by everything I wanted to say,
emotional fires burn out in the smouldering

-L.J. Lenehan-


My Broken Alley

How easily I could be a complicated whisper
blowing violently in the air

My mortal beauty caught eternally in an
ugly wind trap

Full of broken facades with vermin waiting
for whatever is left

My emotional turmoil erodes the long ago
varnished gates

Passerbys hurry past anticipating their warm
bodies growing cold in

My broken alley.

-L.J. Lenehan-

broken alley

Floating Through Seasons

Oh, how this Island of Saints and Scholars
beguile me, heavy snow this morning
especially for the working class of Sheriff’s Street
twelve years on this road, I like it here, I know the score,
never a Saint on ‘The Street’
many a failed Scholar
myself included,
half ten and winter’s morning is gone
autumn sets in, with a heavy rain melting the snow
without an umbrella, I go in search of my creator,
buying the kiss I head back to my apartment around noon,
in my confusion leaves bloom
back in my room I tie up the dinosaur
praying to St. Christopher to keep me safe
on my trip,
the air has dried and a warmth invades me
all the anxieties of people I let down drift away
floating above I notice bareness, in the room
a skeleton on the floor
I’ve been here before
observing an unlived life
in a perfect clarity
floating through seasons
this time forever.

-L.J. Lenehan-

four seasons