Longevity is fated

pizzaIt’s late, my head throbs,
your face has drained of colour,
if only, I could rest my head –
you might believe for a while
I always loved you.

Problems faded away at your death bed,
all I could remember was, for better or worse,
you joked, I’m here for the better,
I laughed, not knowing worse would be a frequenter.
I’m tired now, but promises from the start

remind us both – till death do we part,
suspicions aside, there is no denying
longevity is fated with an end in everything
if there has been no ending, it is in fact,
not over.

-L.J. Lenehan-


And like all souls in pain
I cannot say what Hell awaits
on a sightless day

Memories of joys and sorrows sewn
remain buried in my veins of unknown regrets
silence is the chosen legacy

what can be said of a soul that strayed?
Neither good nor bad but a victim
of the human condition

not quite dead, not quite alive
I cannot say if Heaven awaits
on this blackest of nights

-L.J. Lenehan-


Just Temporary

I remember my friend’s soulful eyes,
on this dark night I can hear
his laugh, deep and raspy,
omnipresent in a cloud of smoke,
‘I don’t give a shite,’ he rumbled,
with a knowing grin
and a half cocked head
I blushed in the presence
of his knowing death
‘It’s all temporary, you know –
all temporary except for the lovely roots
that will someday compose our roofs’
he laughed, offered me a cigarette,
so insecure, I couldn’t say ‘no’
but now I know, he wouldn’t have minded,
because he knew – it is just temporary.

-L.J. Lenehan-angel man gross

It was cold the morning,
you died,
my head pounded,
my eyes exploded,
you couldn’t know,
you wouldn’t know,
I prayed you didn’t know
what happened to me
because of you.
It was cold,
until you woke up to me.

-L.J. Lenehan-


Doves That Cannot Fly

A single strand of lavender,
devotedly, blowing in a stone garden,
built for harmony, maintained by distrust.

Full of doves, that cannot fly,
when I visit, I remember goodbyes,
tears that would not come,

irrational conversations, created by a loss
shocked into solitude, mysteriously forgetting
life before the garden.

As anonymous as a peaceful mob
the garden has no dust
because pain never settles.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Lavender Fields Forever - 2013-04-21_202613_sense-of-place.jpg

Despondent Garden

Defiantly she allows last year’s dirt
to cover the house. All the years
her house was a show, dinner delivered
by four. The garden was beautiful then,

people travelled miles around to see
the exotic flora in an over soaked land.
She planted the tree the year of her child,
she thought they would grow together.

It grew but he did not, painfully she remained
the blossoms reminded her every spring
of everything life could have been: beautiful,
simple, happy, full of life. Years went by,

her husband marching people in and out,
to fix her, to find out what was wrong with
her, to demand she complete her wifely duties,
until finally, he said a timely good bye.

She was not sorry the garden had over grown,
she emerges in late January, early February to tenderly
prune the white cherry blossom, with a heavy
heart she stops the bloom.

Amidst the clutter of her past the path to
remove what is no longer wanted is treacherous
but she makes the journey to endure her life,
the one she was given.

– L.J. Lenehan –


My heart lingers
in your soul, eternally
hiding from the world.

– L.J. Lenehan –

This was forming in my head on the way home from work. I thought Siri in my IPhone 4S could help me record it until I got home. I said something like the above (or probably better) and Siri wrote:

‘Way home lingers for each canadine too well inside your soul.’

Maybe my American accent confused my Irish IPhone 4S and Siri could not understand my dialect. Whatever the reason she is so fired as my assistant!