On Seeing Whistler's Portrait Of His Mother

(Sonnette)

What spirit in man's soul conceived such art,

Such bliss, to show his mother to a clan

Whose eager thirst for thanksgiving began,

With frantic fervor, ardent, set apart,

At mother's feet? A universal thought

In black and gray -- a vast inspired span

Of pregnant canvas, man and angel wrought!

Evelyn Coffey

On seeing Stravinsky’s ballet, Petroushka

(Note on back by Evelyn Coffey: Dr. Adler’s Prosody - Dec. 12, 1934 - Character Sketch, Free Verse)

I am Petrouchka’s ghost.

Sometimes I sound in the wind that whines

on the house-tops;

sometimes I am smoke that is lost

in fog.

I sneer at lovers making love in the shadows,

and steer dense clouds

across the moon’s white face.

I hate love –

I who loved only as a clown

can love,

a clown with his aching, saw-dust body

and hideous, masked head –

a clown who laughs at sorrow,

holding his own heart’s segments

in his hand.

I lived for love,

daring to hope

that she could love me;

blinded to my sordidness by the smile

in her eyes;

overturned with the delicate flesh

that formed her

and the spirit that made her dancing

a flame in a sunset garden.

For an instant I was phosphorous

that sent her flame racing,

but my fire burnt out

in the wealth of hers.

I should have died, even if her lover

had not found my heart

with his curved, steel blade.

I died for love

before he swept me down . . .

while the crowd laughed.

They are laughing now

at the spirit that sneers

from the house-tops . . .

laughing at the smoke

that simmers in fog . . .

laughing at the puppet I was . . .

laughing . . .

laughing.

Evelyn Coffey

Thanksgiving Song

I can live; I can love;

I can breathe skies above.

So I’m thankful today!

I can sing; I can dance;

I can skim earth’s expanse.

So I’m thankful today!

I can laugh; I can cry;

I can hear windfolk sigh.

So I’m thankful today!

I can talk; I can pray;

I can watch rainbows play.

So I’m thankful today!

I can work; I can dream;

I can glimpse Heaven’s gleam.

And I’m thankful today!

Evelyn Coffey

Mary's First Communion

An appropriate beginning for the Advent season, remembering the WHOLE story.

Dawn the morning after the Crucifixion, St. John’s cave

MARY'S FIRST COMMUNION

Hail, full of grace, thou lovely Mary, kneeling

with heaven’s light a flame upon thy hair.

Thou art a woman now. A mother’s feeling

has limned upon thy lips its hallowed care.

Pale as the altar cloth, thy tender face,

and radiant with longing, thy sad eyes.

As St. John lifts the Host, the holy place

is luminous with thy enchanted enraptured sighs.

Flesh of my flesh, my Savior and my Son,

upon this heart again shall rest Thy head.

A second miracle shall make us one,

compounding Thy sweet body out of bread.

No, Christ, my Son, Thou wert not changed in me

as I shall be now sanctified in Thee.

Evelyn Coffey

(published April, 1953 issue of “The Catholic Woman”)

To the Good Shepherd

Back again after nearly a year. No excuses, just life. This first one brings us back over and over again.

To the Good Shepherd

Walk again,

Good Shepherd . . . .

Speak . . . .

Sound

twenty centuries of sound;

stirring the winds

with your breath,

the sun with your Son!

Let no other winds

drown our weeping;

Let no other sun

dry our tears.

Fold the new-lost

lamb-lost

us-lost

about your shoulders.

Wear us

like a banner

across your heart!

Evelyn Coffey