Donal Mahoney- Two Poems

Agnostic in Hospice

One by one 

each brick falls.

No mason now 

can fix the wall.

Here comes

another cannonball.

Nowhere now

for him to go.

A prayer can’t hurt, 

he tells himself,

if someone’s 

on the other side.

For years his friends

have said that’s so.

What if they’re right?

Too soon he’ll know.

Bell and Star

Let me be a star

and shine in places

darkness dwells or

let me be a bell

and ring in places

silence knells or

let me show the way

I plan to travel while 

we wait together

for the final call.

What else to do but

pray with all of you. 

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

 

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

it's a wonderful life 

 

laughter of egg yolk yellow

blades of greenest grass

and periwinkle blue

dancing across the fields of 

wildflowers

exploding in lavender and rosemary

and cardinal's wings yellow

such a colorful world

You carved with your hands

makes me wonder how anyone can

believe we happened here by

chance,

and i am glad i know Your name because

the world is a beautiful place 

You meant for us to enjoy.

 

 

You know my name 

 

You know every star's name

and position in the sky,

care for the sparrows and the lilies,

and You also consider me

which is pretty amazing when i

consider the gravity of that;

You made all the flowers and You

made us each unique and beautiful

according to Your purpose—

i wonder how many remember You,

but then i see something that

revives my faith in humanity and i

know it's You telling me to believe and 

hope even when everything seems

dark, and i want to thank You for considering

me amid all the chaos among the world.

false idols 

 

i tire of all these idols,

hero worshiping,

and people proclaiming themselves

kings and queens and gods

when they're nothing more than

people;

You are the only king i'll acknowledge

because these idols aren't worth

all the time and attention

given them,

for what have they created?

they may have talent and they may have beauty,

but You are the one that gave it to them;

and i know You must disapprove

yet You love them

so as much as i despise the way they behave

i must love them, too.

 

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Waiting for the Same Thing

We're all waiting 

for the same thing, 

the old monk told me 

on a tour of the abbey 

the day after the monks 

buried my brother  

in the cemetery down 

by the creek.

At some abbeys, he said, 

monks make fruit cakes, 

cheese, jams or fudge. 

Every abbey, he said,   

has to sell something  

while we're waiting 

for the same thing.

I know you and your brother 

weren't close but he probably 

told you we've been making 

pine caskets for 70 years. 

He was an artist with a chisel. 

Never a word out of him. 

Just shavings of wood 

flying around him like moths. 

We have no one to replace him. 

And business is improving.

I don't know how we'll keep up. 

It's no longer just monks 

at the other abbeys 

buying our caskets. 

Suddenly civilians  

like the simple design, 

the plain box made out of pine, 

no puffery, nothing fancy.  

One man drove down here, 

bought two and fit both 

in the trunk of his Lexus.

Imagine that: our caskets

in the trunk of a Lexus.

The monks who make fruit cakes 

and other good food buy caskets 

from us and we buy what they make  

but we don't need fruit cakes 

the way they need our caskets.

Monks are getting older. 

The jams and fudge, however,

and the sharp cheddar cheese 

are a pleasant distraction 

while we're waiting 

for the same thing.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri. 

Chase J. Braud- A Poem

Soiled to Dust

Soiled flesh till dust.

When the heart has raced,

finally dies to lust.

Kill it within me,

the temple is yours.

Kill it by thee,

no longer mine.

There’ no strength left

To keep beat against the wind.

No more nails to hammer to water.

Kill it within me,

the temple is yours.

Kill it by thee,

no longer mine.

My rage against dust,

spider web against

Tumultuous hurricane.

No lasting thrust.

Kill it by your grace.

Kill it with your victory.

The temple is yours, no longer mine.

Let it be done, or let it be dust.

Russell Streur- A Poem

REMOTE CONTROL

The remote control malfunctions

And before Big Data

Can conference in the network heads

The screens go blank on Marietta Street

And the lights go out on Eighth

And the anchors and the sirens

Fall mute on Fleet

And the gates of Black Beach open

And the gates of Diyarbakir open

And the gates of Tadmor open

And the gates of Shatta Prison open

And the drones stop falling from the sky

And the suicide bombs fail to explode

And Sundiata Acoli goes free

And Alexandra  Dukhanina goes

And Mumia Abu Jamal goes free

The person unknown

Returns from the wilderness

And the batteries go dead

On the powers that be.

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem

BEAUTY

        

Rainbow

Moon glow

Star bright

Sea light       

Red tree

Gold bee

Noon sun

Three--One

 

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