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.

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

A Poem In Irish, with English Translation. And with Humorous Endings from a Friend

 If I Forgot

Má rinne mé dearmad 

A rá leat 

Go bhfuil grá agam duit

Inniú, bhuel. . .

If I forgot

To tell you 

That I love you

Today, well . . .

BC / December 31, 2021

Some suggestions from Kathleen for different ways this poem could end:

I just forgot.

Get over it.

You forgot to tell me, also.

That’s an omen of impending doom.

I’m a schmuck.

My love for you is beyond words.

Your beauty silences me.

My head was elsewhere.

It’s because I don’t.

I’m tired of saying it with no response from you.

I don’t want to be repetitive.

I hate public signs of affection.

I really don’t like you at all.

When I wrote this little poem, I knew it didn't have an ending (or had an ambiguous ending), but I thought it still might work. The person you showed it to would probably fill in the appropriate ending, I thought. Anyway, I don think this exactly worked based on some feedback I got. When I showed it to my friend Kathleen, who knows "cúpla focal" (a couple of words or more) of Irish, she supplied me with a list of funny ways to end this poem, which I have posted above.

A Bilingual (English-Irish) poem for the Epiphany

 A bilingual, Irish-English, poem for the Epiphany.

Nollaig Bheag–Eipeafáine! 

On the 12th night of Nollaig,

Little Christmas, Nollaig Bheag, 

Women's Christmas, Nollaig na mBan,

The Manifestation to the World--

Foilsiú

Revelation,

Soléiriú

Clarification,

Taispeánadh,

Showing the reality:

Leanbh, Máthair, Athair, Tréadaithe

A Baby, a Mother, a Father, Shepherds,

This most humble birthing place.

Our Druid neighbors bringing gifts--

Eipeafáine!

Bob Coughlin / January 6, 2022

A Poem/Prayer about the Full Moon at the Fall Equinox

 

Benediction at Full Moon Equinox

As I gaze at the full Harvest Moon this Equinox,

The Monstrance at Benediction comes to mind,

All knees bent, the moment as holy as Birth or Creation or Love.

I can hear angelic voices singing,

"Holy God, we praise Thy name,

Lord of all, we bow before Thee . . ."

And then, in memory,

"Panis angelicus" bread of angels,

"Fit panis hominum" becomes the bread for all humans . . .

Next the litanies, beautiful mantras,

Another kind of rosary,

Saints Kathleen, Joanne, and Veronica,

Pray for us,

Saint Joachim, ora pro nobis,

Saints Robert, Michael, and Patrick,

Orate pro nobis.

Saints Linda, Julia, Lucia, 

Carolan, Jodessa, Emily, 

Saints Liv, Colin, Jesse,

Saints Lilly, Lucy, Ava, and Leo,

Saint Harper, Saint Gus,

All Saints, known and unknown . . .

Blessèd Blue and Jake-the-Beagle,

And all animal companions--

Help us sustain the Beauty, Grace,

And Love 

And thank you for this Holy Moment. Amen.

[Composed by Bob Coughlin, using the ideas and imagery of Kathleen Prudence / September 22, 2021. Photo by Bob Coughlin.]

A poem about the Perseid meteor shower

 Streaking across the Mid-August Night

Last night, around 3:30 am, I woke up, shambled out the front door 

and looked up at the night sky wanting to see the Perseids,

The Tears of Saint Lawrence.

.  

I saw a million stars 

and heard an astonishing percussive concert, 

rythmic and loud music. Thousands of crickets and other mysterious creatures: 

Locusts? Cicadas? Frogs? Toads? Púcaí? Fairies? 

It was beautiful! But no Perseids, no shooting stars-- 

Just thoughts of you streaking across my consciousness! 

And then back to bed for a few more hours,

Dreaming to the beat of the crickets

and the symphony of the spangled night.

[Bob Coughlin / August 13, 2021].

A Couple of New Words of Baby Lucy Maria Margaret

 

“Bee” Is for Lucy at One

As we walked by the bee hives, Lucy said, “Bee!”

and waved both hands in all directions

as the bees buzzed around us.

Earlier that morning, eating blueberries with yogurt,

she said, “Bee!!"

B is for blueberry too,

and Lucy loves them!

Then that evening, eating supper at Paul Bunyan Cafe,

she looked up at the giant head mounted on the wall

and said, “Bee!”

B is for buffalo of course!

"Bee" can be an ant,

a speck on the table,

and a giant buffalo

At age One,

Lucy has a lot of homonyms!

Bob Coughlin / June 26, 2021

Lucy’s Cock-a-Doodle-Doo

When Lucy hears the rooster

trumpet out his boastful cock-a-doodle-doo

she tunes her voice to a higher pitch

and sings out her own doodle-doo,

a beautiful, recognizable word--

that I can’t match up with letters of the Roman alphabet.

Bob Coughlin / July 5, 2021

Baptismal Poems for Lucy Maria Margaret, daughter of Carolan Coughlin and Jeremy Rust

 I'm going to post two of my poems and I will ask permission from a friend to publish her poem for Lucy's Baptism, a sacramental Baptism that took place on June 19th, 2021, at the confluence of Bear Creek and the Middle Fork of the Flathead River in Flathead County, Montana.

Welcome to the Family. A Baptismal Poem

for Lucy Maria Margaret

Little One

Beautiful Lucy Maria Margaret,

Daughter of Jeremy and Carolan,

Feel the waters of Bear Creek and the great Middle Fork,

Waters that flow down from the Top of the World,

Montana's Continental Divide.

Waters so clean, cold, so pure,

Flowing over the red and green argyllite,

Mix of glacier and snow melt,

Spring and early summer rains

To bless you, to bless us all,

To anoint you,

To anoint us all,

To welcome you to this strange and wonderful family!

Welcome Baby Lucy Maria Margaret,

Child of Original Goodness and Grace,

And Light!

Your name means "light"

Which you will bring forth as a Gift

To a world so in need of Love and Light.

Welcome to your family,

To this Beloved Community,

Which already loves you

To the tops of the highest mountains.

[Grampa Bob Coughlin / Summer Solstice 2021]

The Spirit of Montana on Lucy's Baptismal Day

The Montana winds

Blow down from the Continental Divide

Like the Breath of God

The Light and Truth of the Holy Spirit.

Infuse, inspire Lucy, this baby,

Her parents, family, and friends

With the holy fire and breath

Of the Spirit of Goodness, Kindness, and

[Grampa Bob Coughlin / Summer Solstice 2021].

Below: A Poem by my old friend, Kathleen Prudence, who was one

of my Orchard Street neighbors in Cincinnati's Over-the-Rhine.

I shared the Baptism story and photos with Kathleen--and she

wrote this poem!

Lucy

Lucy Maria Margaret

Your parents have given you this name,

Called by the Spirit’s breath in the wild wind 

And in the gentle breath of meadow breeze, 

The winds of storm and stillness.

Lucy for “Light”.  

Light of the sun’s reflection off the snowy mountain caps.

Light of the stars sparkling in the deep, dark night sky.

Light of the glimmer of love shining from your family’s eyes.

We dedicate you to our Creator, who imagined you before time began.

We welcome you with water and salt.

So as a member of the Beloved Community

You will live as fiercely as the water which flows down with justice,

Filling all you encounter with the spice of joy, excitement, and love.

We cross you with the sign of

The Father, Son,and Holy Spirit, 

So that any stones or chasms along your journey,

Will be transformed into Blessings as sweet as honey.

We do not know you, dear Lucy,

And we may never meet,

But know that you have a guardian soul sister

In this huge universe

That welcomes you under the shelter of God’s wing.

[Kathleen Prudence, June 2021]