Donal Mahoney


Donal Mahoney Poems

1. Monday Morning -new- 6/2/2015
2. A Song In Her Valley 3/25/2015
3. Like Father Like 3/18/2015
4. Swirls 3/19/2015
5. When Carbon Paper Was King 3/25/2015
6. A Previous Life 3/26/2015
7. A Critic Comes To Dinner 3/31/2015
8. Seasons Of The Year 3/31/2015
9. Small Shoulders 3/31/2015
10. Unplanned Parenthood 3/31/2015
11. Six-Pack Uncle Jack 3/31/2015
12. The Two Of Them 3/31/2015
13. First Tulip 4/1/2015
14. An Unfortunate Remark 4/2/2015
15. Yowling 4/3/2015
16. Someone From Home 4/3/2015
17. Chicken Bone Stuck 4/4/2015
18. Space Program 4/6/2015
19. The Prodigal 4/7/2015
20. Makes Forever Shorter 4/10/2015
21. The Skywriter 4/10/2015
22. Wheelchair With A View 4/14/2015
23. Sleep Apnea Or Agent Orange: Let’s Hear It For Monsanto 4/20/2015
24. Missiles And Land Mines 4/22/2015
25. Dazzle And Whirr 4/24/2015
26. Norma Jeane At A Bus Stop,1943 4/24/2015
27. Each Morning 4/25/2015
28. The Shish Kebab Genocide 4/28/2015
29. At The Hop 5/1/2015
30. A Singular Repast 5/4/2015
31. Guns And Cell Phones 5/4/2015
32. Home For The Winter 5/6/2015
33. Family Picnic 5/8/2015
34. Right To Flow 5/8/2015
35. Loving Her 5/13/2015
36. Old Quilter In A Rush 5/15/2015
37. My Fiancée Visits My Father’s House 5/16/2015
38. Dangling Participles 5/17/2015
39. Piccolos 5/17/2015
40. Nature Boy 5/17/2015
Best Poem of Donal Mahoney

Letter To An Estranged Middle-Aged Son

The older I get the more I realize
the importance of getting things done
before your mother announces another

assignment to roust me from my hammock.
As you know I've never been much
around the house, my skills limited to

raking leaves and shoveling snow,
menial tasks I haven't missed in years.
Probably not since you lived here.

Your mother, of course, grew up on a farm
and has always liked getting things done.
But she's getting older too. In fact,

she recently had a big operation
and I've pitched in beyond my skill set
despite ...

Read the full of Letter To An Estranged Middle-Aged Son

So Fingertips Kiss

Five kids, eight years.
And then one day my wife
shouts to me on the tractor
roaring in the field:

“I’ve had enough.”
And like a ballerina,
she rises on one foot, sole
of the other foot firm

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