Donal Mahoney Poems

According to the anchor on the News at Six, Olaf Parker was shot dead at dawn this morning delivering newspapers in his van. His body was found on the front seat, a cigarette burning near his feet, when police responded to a call from a resident who heard his van crash into a utility pole.

Mr. Parker wasn't robbed. There were a few newspapers on the seat next to his body. These were the last papers he had to deliver on the final block of his route before going home to tend to his dying wife, according to his supervisor. Funeral arrangements are pending.
...

Marvin's a man who never
does anything he doesn't have to.
One day, however, to the delight
of Miriam, his wife, he became
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Nice old Grandpa likes to yodel
whenever he recalls the boys who
beat him up in third grade.
...

Everyone in the neighborhood was surprised when Bill McIntyre entered the seminary to study for the priesthood. He had been dating girls since early in high school and had been engaged since graduating from college to a lovely young lady. He often spoke about wanting to have a big family since he himself had been an only child. But something happened in that relationship and Bill and his girlfriend broke up.

'I always wanted brothers, ' Bill had told his best friend, Adam Moskowitz. They had played basketball together in high school and had remained close friends, meeting at the local delicatessen every couple of weeks to wolf down corned beef sandwiches, Adam's on rye, Bill's on dark pumpernickel.
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Dad, happy to see
you're taking a nap.
I'm down at the pier
so give me a shout
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fresh graffiti on the walls
of Temple Mizpah once again
...

In the waiting room,
I squeeze
this trinity of walnuts
...

When I began writing in 1960, there were no website 'magazines.' Print journals were the only place to have poems published. Writers used typewriters, carbon paper, a white potion to cover up mistakes and "snail mail" to prepare and submit poems for publication. Monday through Friday I'd work at my day job. Weekends I'd spend writing and revising poems. Revising poems took more time than writing them and that is still the case today, decades later.

On Monday morning on the way to work, I'd sometimes mail as many as 14 envelopes to university journals and 'little magazines, ' as the latter were then called. Some university journals are still with us. Some are published in print only and others have begun the inevitable transformation by appearing in print and simultaneously on the web.
...

Before he's had his morning coffee
he puts a silencer on the pistol,
goes from room to room, puts
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Want to know how
God may feel at times
about us mortals?
...