Donal Mahoney

Donal Mahoney Poems

721. Get My Drift, Matilda 10/10/2015
722. Life In A Barrel 10/11/2015
723. Bullies And The Wimp 10/12/2015
724. Two In The Soup 10/25/2015
725. Tough Call On Pluto 10/25/2015
726. Monitor Lizard, Chomping 10/26/2015
727. Mortimer's Problem 10/27/2015
728. Little Gourds In Autumn 10/29/2015
729. A Widow And Her Pekingese 10/30/2015
730. How They Do It In Syria Today 10/30/2015
731. Martha And Mel Wait For The Elevator 11/2/2015
732. Stranger Comes To Town 11/3/2015
733. Multi-Tasking Drug 11/4/2015
734. Morning Coffee Can Be So Important 11/4/2015
735. Fake With Your Left 11/5/2015
736. Gender Inequality 11/6/2015
737. Ms. Editor Savaged By Mr. Author 11/8/2015
738. My Parents Were Illegal Irish Immigrants In The United States 11/9/2015
739. Big Difference 11/10/2015
740. Ladies Night At The Amvets Hall 11/10/2015
741. Time Flies 11/12/2015
742. An Opinion On Events At The University Of Missouri 11/14/2015
743. Gardening In Autumn 11/14/2015
744. A Milkshake Brings Advice 11/16/2015
745. Subway Caucus 11/16/2015
746. Monsanto Scientist In Hospice 11/16/2015
747. Flotsam And Jetsam 11/20/2015
748. Dial 'm' For Memories 11/21/2015
749. Little Red Apples 11/22/2015
750. Birds Are Entrepreneurs 11/23/2015
751. Christmas Reservations 11/26/2015
752. Chloe Calling 11/28/2015
753. Maybe I Had It Better In 1955 11/29/2015
754. Just For A Day 11/30/2015
755. Billionaire And Beggar 12/1/2015
756. Judgment Day 12/1/2015
757. Let's Not Rake Our Leaves 12/4/2015
758. Holiday Party In San Bernardino 12/4/2015
759. A Christmas Haiku 12/5/2015
760. Can You Hear Me In The Bunker, Leroy? 12/7/2015

Comments about Donal Mahoney

  • Eugene Levich Eugene Levich (7/4/2015 12:10:00 PM)

    Viva Donal Mahoney... author of some of the loveliest poetry I've read this year!

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  • Cece D Cece D (9/23/2013 9:00:00 AM)

    Love your writing! Keep it up

Best Poem of Donal Mahoney


In the waiting room, I squeeze
this old rosary a nun gave me
the day I got back from Iraq.

I was still in a daze on a gurney
and I still had sand in my hair.
Some of it remains, no matter

how many showers I take.
Sand from Iraq lingers, I'm told,
until you go bald, and then

you are able to concentrate
on other things.
What might they be, I wonder.

But today, in this waiting room,
I squeeze the rosary tighter
when I hear, louder than

the gunshots crackling in my dreams,
the real screams of that little boy
right ...

Read the full of Ptsd

'Lemon Underwear'

The New Morse Hotel
Chicago, circa 1970

What if after Browne has gone
one of us discovers who Browne was,
leads the rally to his room before
the maid has time to broom the webs,
retrieve from underneath the bed
the sweat-stiff socks, the lemon underwear?

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