Poem about the Kent State Shootings of May 4, 1970

 Here's one of the poems I've written over the years about the Kent State shootings of May 4, 2022:

Close to My Heart

Kent State University

May 4, 1970. 12:24 PM

Forty-three years ago today,

National Guardsman’s bullet,

shot 293 miles from my college dorm,

blew through my chest, landing at my heart

where it remains today. The Doc said,

“It’s too dangerous to remove. You’ll have to live

with the chronic ache.”

That day, while my cousin Maggie ran through a fog

of teargas to the Theatre Building, and high school friends 

watched from the corners of trees and buildings,

Guardsmen, not much older than me, bayonets fixed--

then: sixty-seven shots ring out on Blanket Hill.

Four dead, nine others wounded, untold traumatized,

Guardsmen and students alike. I, with pericardium, 

peri-anima trauma,

called up Mom and Dad, back in Euclid,

Crying and yelling at them, total innocents,

for being . . . what? . . . adults, easy targets

for my pain.

Hope they forgave their hurting son,

hope the pain around the hearts of Ohioans,

Kent Staters, Americans,

hope the pain

heals.

Robert M. Coughlin / May 4, 2013

Robby's First Communion: A Poem

Robby's First Communion

Robby,

Dear Grandson who shares my name.

Nana Linda and I want you to know

That we rejoice over your First Communion!

Mine was on May 20, 1956, at St. William’s in Euclid.

Nana’s was two years later at St. Margaret Mary in Cincinnati.

In those days the First Communion classes were huge,

And hundreds of boys and girls were in line–

The girls dressed almost like brides, white gowns, gloves, and veils,

The boys dressed like little Gentlemen.

It was a day of the greatest happiness, both in Church,

And later at parties at our homes:

Everybody was there, grandmas, grampas, aunts, uncles, cousins,

A wonderful party, a wonderful day.

Your Big Day will be wonderful too, Robby,

A day you’ll still remember when you are an old Grampa like me,

Privileged to see your own grandkids make their First Communions.

Hurray for you, Robby!

We love you, God loves you,

Your family loves you,

And always will!

[Grampa Bob/Brrr, May 7, 2022]

Haiku Poems for Easter

 

Easter Haiku

The Resurrection

Always working in the dark

Visible this April.

BC April 12, 2022

Skunk Cabbage Haiku

Skunk cabbage emerges

From the mud, sort of like us–

Sign of our Rising.

BC April 12, 2022

After composing this poem, I thought of a new clinching line: Rising from the Slime.

Below, a short video of Ëaster Haiku.

Obituary of Margaret McDonough

A Few Words on the Life of Margaret Mary McDonough

The poem in the previous blog post was written by my friend kp, who was one of Margaret McDonough's closest friends. There has been no official obituary for Margaret, but I'm going to try to piece together what I know about her life.

Margaret was from Bay City, Michigan, born around the time I was born, May 2nd, 1948. Margaret died in Cincinnati on March 21, 2022, a week ago. After a 6 week stay in the hospital, she was discharged to the skilled nursing unit at her retirement community.  Four days later she died peacefully.  Her brother Jack was with her when she died.  During the 6 weeks of hospitalization she had a team of friends, Debbie Boerschig, Sue Brungs, Charlene Riva, Liv Henson, and kp, advocating and caring for her as much as was permitted. Margaret was deeply loved, which was made perfectly clear during her final illness.

For a while I lived near Margaret, maybe a quarter mile away (for a time I was on Orchard Street and then on Lang Street in Over-the-Rhine, Cincinnati). Margaret lived on Boal Street near the Young Street steps, just up the street from my friends Henry Scott and Dan Bromley (they were at 324 Boal). She had many friends on Orchard Street and knew the folks in the Mansfield House Commune. We had many friends in common. I'm sure we were in the same place at the same time, but I don't remember meeting her.

Margaret attended the College of Mount Saint Joseph, like kp and Mary Jane Atkinson. Her resumé is a little crazy, like so many of my friends. She started her teaching career on the Lakota Sioux Reservation in Saint Francis, South Dakota, and later returning to Cincinnati she taught 4th and 5th grade at St. Henry’s in Northern Kentucky. After several years of teaching, she decided to change her career path. She took classes in horticulture and worked for 17 years at Frank's Nurseries, becoming their first female store manager. In 1990, Margaret joined the UK Royal Horticulture Society and specialized in growing flowering sweetpeas, resurrecting a flower that had been popular in Cincinnati before World War II. From then until retirement, Margaret was a familiar face at Court St. and Findlay Markets, eventually selling rare plants and other flowers as well as her sweetpeas. For a decade or more Margaret volunteered as a reading instructor for adult learners.

For a while Margaret lived near the Fernald Nuclear Plant--a place with a disguised name (Fernald Feed Materials Production Center) and a secret source of vast and dangerous radioactive pollution (it released millions of pounds of radioactive uranium dust into the air). Could this have been a contributing factor in Margaret's death?

Toward the end of her life, Margaret moved to a cottage connected to Twin Towers Senior Living Community in Cincinnati. She was greatly loved by her neighbors in this community.
In a Facebook post, an old friend of Margaret mentioned some of the things she fought for throughout her life: Native Americans, Women in Business, Hispanic Immigrants, Children, and Community Gardens. And in the end, a heroic fight for her own life.

Margaret is being laid to rest at the same time as her 98-year-old mother, Lorraine McDonough, at the St. Patrick's Catholic Cemetery in Bay City, Michigan. Mrs. McDonough died a couple weeks before Margaret's passing.

The Irish would say: "Margaret's likes will not be seen again." And "Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dílis," May her sweet soul be at God's right hand.

Keep Margaret, Lord, like the apple of your eye. Shelter her under the shadow of your wings. Let Perpetual Light shine upon Margaret Mary McDonough.

 
Bob Coughlin / March 29, 2022

Another Poem for Margaret McDonough, Rest in Peace

 

(above, Margaret on the Spring Street Steps, Boal Street, Over-the-Rhine)

WAITING

Waiting.

Being present.

Is it called "being present" if you're not in the same room?

Presenté!  Our departed loved ones and heroines ~ 

Presenté!

To live in the now is to realize it's now.

My memories are now.

Fifty-six years compressed into now.

Roommates our Freshman Year

Maid of Honor

Stories from the Reservation

Godmother extraordinaire

Surviving the years of single motherhood because you visited after work.

Climbing Young Street stairs to watch Mr. Rogers & Sesame Street

With Daisy on the roof.

Trips in the Red Bug, three kids and a bloodhound in the back seat,

Old Man's Cave, Natural Bridge,

And the Saginaw Bookstore with a tomato on the shelf.

The Cottage, The Greenhouse, Ireland - now, now, now.

You told me once when I was grumpy,

"It doesn't matter if they delete you from history

Or mythologize you;  I was there.

I remember."  A simple echo of God's words,

"I know you. You are mine."

The IV pump is ticking

Voices down the hallway

Ashes on your forehead

Repositioning, med passes, a parade of medical teams 

Now

Quiet Breathing

Now

Healing

Now

God in and around us

Now.  Presenté!

[kp. for Margaret McDonough.  3/3/2022]

(above, Margaret in Ireland, circa 2000)

A Few Words on the Life of Margaret Mary McDonough

The poem above was written by my friend kp, who was one of Margaret McDonough's closest friends. There has been no official obituary for Margaret, but I'm going to try to piece together what I know about her life.

Margaret was from Bay City, Michigan, born around the time I was born, May 2nd, 1948. Margaret died in Cincinnati on March 21, 2022, a week ago. After a 6 week stay in the hospital, she was discharged to the skilled nursing unit at her retirement community.  Four days later she died peacefully.  Her brother Jack was with her when she died.  During the 6 weeks of hospitalization she had a team of friends, Debbie Boerschig, Sue Brungs, Charlene Riva, Liv Henson, and kp, advocating and caring for her as much as was permitted. Margaret was deeply loved, which was made perfectly clear during her final illness.

For a while I lived near Margaret, maybe a quarter mile away (for a time I was on Orchard Street and then on Lang Street in Over-the-Rhine, Cincinnati). Margaret lived on Boal Street near the Young Street steps, just up the street from my friends Henry Scott and Dan Bromley (they were at 324 Boal). She had many friends on Orchard Street and knew the folks in the Mansfield House Commune. We had many friends in common. I'm sure we were in the same place at the same time, but I don't remember meeting her.

Margaret attended the College of Mount Saint Joseph, like kp and Mary Jane Atkinson. Her resumé is a little crazy, like so many of my friends. She started her teaching career on the Lakota Sioux Reservation in Saint Francis, South Dakota, and later returning to Cincinnati she taught 4th and 5th grade at St. Henry’s in Northern Kentucky. After several years of teaching, she decided to change her career path.  She took classes in horticulture and worked for 17 years at Frank's Nurseries, becoming their first female store manager. In 1990, Margaret joined the UK Royal Horticulture Society and specialized in growing flowering sweetpeas, resurrecting a flower that had been popular in Cincinnati before World War II. From then until retirement, Margaret was a familiar face at Court St. and Findlay Markets, eventually selling rare plants and other flowers as well as her sweetpeas.  For a decade or more Margaret volunteered as a reading instructor for adult learners.

For a while Margaret lived near the Fernald Nuclear Plant--a place with a disguised name (Fernald Feed Materials Production Center) and a secret source of vast and dangerous radioactive pollution (it released millions of pounds of radioactive uranium dust into the air). Could this have been a contributing factor in Margaret's death?

Toward the end of her life, Margaret moved to a cottage connected to Twin Towers Senior Living Community in Cincinnati. She was greatly loved by her neighbors in this community.

In a Facebook post, an old friend of Margaret mentioned some of the things she fought for throughout her life: Native Americans, Women in Business, Hispanic Immigrants, Children, and Community Gardens. And in the end, a heroic fight for her own life.

Margaret is being laid to rest at the same time as her 98-year-old mother, Lorraine McDonough, at the St. Patrick's Catholic Cemetery in Bay City, Michigan. Mrs. McDonough died a couple weeks before Margaret's passing.

The Irish would say: "Margaret's likes will not be seen again." And "Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam dílis," May her sweet soul be at God's right hand.

Keep Margaret, Lord, like the apple of your eye. Shelter her under the shadow of your wings. Let Perpetual Light shine upon Margaret Mary McDonough. 

Bob Coughlin

Poem for Margaret McDonough

 Let Me Die in Springtime

O Lord let me die

In springtime, my short life

Celebrated by crocus and daffodil

Weeping cherry and spring beauty,

Cherished by a few

Friends, family, lovers–

Let me go with the words

Thank You on my last breath–

Thank You

Thank You

Thank You.

[by Bob Coughlin. For Margaret McDonough, March 21, 2022, Springtime in Cincinnati.]

There's a kind of obituary of Margaret McDonough in my March 28th and March 30th, 2022 blog posts--a brief sketch of her life.

A Little Poem in Irish and in English: Deep in My Heart

 Deep in My Heart

Tá tú in áras mó chroí, a Stór,

Forever and forever and for always--

You abide in my heart, O Treasure,

Go brách is go deo is i gcónaí.

BC / January 28, 2022