Dancing angrily,
the air of the chimney – whips
surly flames

mocking tales of fairy endings
creations of the devil
tempting us all

to one more day
of wishes, suffering, happiness
trivial mysteries.

-L.J. Lenehan-
turf+fire+framed

Elephant Girl

My heart, the elephant
of my fate, broken and painful
stumbling through this journey,

without a herd,
without compassion,
without a lover,

I walk through hot coals laid for me
by you, singing my skin, you stare,
until I burn, you turn and go.

But I am the strength
I need in your aftermath
to rise again.

-L.J. Lenehan

In your brokenness
I found comfort.

a feeling I know so well,
at home in the awkwardness.

there was no need to speak,
I knew what you had to say.

Because with every beginning,
there is always an ending.

but this time, yes, this time,
I have no more beginnings.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Tied at the kitchen sink,
screams captured, by the ceiling –
photos in the sitting room tell a different story.

Tears unseen,
all that was left was a girl in a box,
buried alive, if only she’d been oxygenated.

Once a sweet peach,
everyone peered in, murmuring:
‘what happened to her?’

Wails of what they might say –
if only there was one more day,
the sun might rise – she might see it differently,

But the horrific truth:
he would not find happiness,
not until he had her in a box.

-L.J. Lenehan-
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Cuimhnigh orm

Glaonna an t-uisce dom
ó thíos an ghealach ar imní
Is féidir liom a chloisteáil macalla de hallelujah.

Pulls an aigéan mé isteach a rúin istigh
le práinne foréigneach,
Léim mé, ag snámh mé amach ar an bhfarraige.

Cad é fíor
tá a thuilleadh chreid
toisc go cuimhin aon duine dom,

mo bhaile folamh,
mo aghaidh featureless,
mo emptiness ar taispeáint,

i sochaí ina bhfuil mé dofheicthe.
An calma bhí le feiceáil go i dom,
tá dearmad,

an calma roimh an stoirm,
an calma roimh snamh mé,
an calma roimh a athrú mé isteach san fharraige

L.J. Ni Leanacháin

Happy St. Patrick’s Day… This is a monumental day for me because my blog has reached 5,000 followers… To celebrate the achievement and the day that is in it I have translated one of my poems into the Irish Language… Enjoy!
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The Lover’s Struggle

Inside the cold lips of women
exists a defining cliché,
that creates a quivering ache,
seducing personal confusion
in to the flames of fire.

Consumed by a sophisticated
aftertaste that lingers –
inside the mind
of the ones left behind,
where messages of love

should be penned, instead
of political condolences
contrived to ease personal
struggle that might lead
to the creation of poetry.

-L.J. Lenehan-
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My flawless rose, golden
prearranged to last a lifespan
discoloured, disfigured
hidden in a chastity belt of shame,
sliced out, painfully reminding me
of barren early blooms,
oh how absolute this mortal joke
of abandonment.

-L.J. Lenehan-
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First Hello

An agreement made,
rooted in time,
no promises, no regrets,
each chapter silently unfolded
a scene that deleted
a piece of me.

I evolved from all the re-writes
into a breathless, nameless shape
unprepared to exchange me,
for nothing.
Spiraling in doubt, about what I owe –
it was I that paid the price

of mornings with no hope
left only with regrets
that the final goodbye
was no more beautiful
than the first hello
when I was complete.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Photo from: https://www.facebook.com/BelladonnaLoves
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