Wakefield Mahon Poems

Picture
God, you know, it's hard to grow
In a world that's full of sin
Feeling blind, I try to find
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Here I am like it or not
What you see is all I've got
I need to admit that I'm not a saint
When pressure is high, I'm sure to faint
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She is at once golden-blond with the innocence of a child,
And raven-haired as a jealous daughter of Hera
She is brown-haired as a sensible homemaker
And red-haired with a fiery passion
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Only the fool would play at this game
To seek after that which only brings pain
Why should I forfeit all that I could be
Pursuing the shadow of strange fantasy
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Picture
I remember many times of feeling all alone.
I felt neglected and disrespected, even in my home.
Eating lunch, by myself, without a friend,
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Picture
'Twas one and ten thousand years
Since Eden's dawning day
When He had formed the earth
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Praise God, who created the heavens
Lit brilliant stars, the sun and the moon
Who gave the earth its form
The maker of oceans and rivers
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Precious are times of perfect quiet
When we do neither right nor wrong
When passivity brings us to dreams
By a gentle river of song
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I scream aloud.
I feel the burning tension of my rage.
I feel alone.
I taste the tears only found in solitude.
...

Picture
In vain, I hide from the shadow of myself
And all that I love, I destroy
Why is the most beautiful soul in this world
...