Friday, February 20, 2015

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.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

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 
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
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
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.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

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. 

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

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.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Russell Streur- A Poem


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.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem




Moon glow

Star bright

Sea light       

Red tree

Gold bee

Noon sun