M.J. McGuire Poems

The sign on her aging body,
An emblem or a stain?
The keys to the chosen kingdom
Or the dreaded mark of Cain?
...

I remember the green lawn,
flecked with clumps of clover,
California in the summer,
...

Purple feels like a sigh
And smells like a baguette.
Purple tastes like a pie
Served by a string quartette.
...

In an act of sinister and celestial Judo
They’ve recently reduced the size of Pluto.
It’s no longer on the planet list
-Nor are the moons within its midst.
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Build me, oh Craftsman, a vessel frail,
Meeker that the ocean's sway.
Carve me a sea-worthless ship to sail
Across this restless bay.
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He loves
to kick the ball
on lazy afternoons
or prance upon his little toes
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Poets have gone before me,
Dancing on the head of a pen,
Slipping through eyes of needles
To a place that rests within.
...

If slugs could go to past life therapy,
I’d be there in a super-snappy jiffy,

To find out why I’m stuck upon this wall,
...

Egyptians weren’t too fond of dads,
But with moms, they were pretty chummy.
-No pops inside the sarcophagus,
Just a sweet old fashioned mummy!
...