Copperplate Print

Just two words:
‘I’m alive,’ arrived by courier.
It was a print, from a copperplate,
money was spent,                                                                                                           getting this message to me.

Delivered indifferently,
aloofly signed for,
immediately the creator
of the copperplate print
was known to me.

Nostalgia of that great perhaps
swam through my veins
molecules sang, ‘thank God!’
Quickly quashed by the order
of memories pre-dating
the copperplate print.

– L.J. Lenehan –


Gift of Life

Beauty illuminated from the sun’s awakening.
My soul exhilarated; with nature’s promises, of impressive delights –
My thoughts drift – to all mortals, whose opportunity to enjoy the basics, has been taken,
Envy of jewels and gold; when the five senses working together, should alight the night.
What gift would it be, for a blind old man who has never seen, to suddenly see the morning glow?
Or a little girl, who never ran through a field, to receive the lung she needs?
What gift would it be, for a deaf composer to suddenly hear a crow?
Or a limbless girl, to suddenly transport into a body, so she can dance in the reeds?
But all the horrors of this world rarely end exquisitely.
Suffering goes unnoticed, sympathetically, with a glad it is not me.
The next disability you meet – I challenge you to stop consciously –
And see the world through your adoptee.
Through acceptance and dignity the world unites.
Ignore the polite plight and reunite with fight.

-L.J. Lenehan-


Red hair once sweeping; uninterrupted,
Pale skin, glowing; quickly turned ashen; corrupted,
By cancer; disease erupted,
Throughout, what was, a beautiful woman, disrupted.

A lone woman; considered a prude,
Unprotected in her prime; a victim of crime.
The offenders flew in; took all her gold,
And left her in a dungeon.

Body builder to wheel chair bound –
Her sisters laughed; at the bag of bones – she became.
Devotion to God, she hoped, would send a miracle –
Indeed, Archangel Michael appeared.

Left destitute and sick; he stroked her lifeless hands,
Combed her clumps of red,
Gave peace to her eroding bones;
Promising to commemorate her with glory.

That night serenity took over, her mild manner;
Her soul left; behind an amphitheater,
Leaving the only two that truly knew her; in danger,
Of trusting any other strangers.

– L.J. Lenehan –

True Friends

My compatriot origanates from atoms –
begun as a cloud, collapsed, metamorphoused.
A multi star system made; internal stresses supported, collapse eluded –
impacting the structure of our cluster.
Alliances formed by plasma and gravity –
luminosity, the core of our celestial sphere.
Converted, through the process of nuclear fusion –
energy traverses – sparkling through space.
Acquantainces on the supernova –
true friends; structure their own galaxy.

– L.J. Lenehan –