Donal Mahoney


Donal Mahoney Poems

1. Booger Mcnulty And Me 3/11/2012
2. Last Irish Christening 3/14/2012
3. Sadie Says 3/17/2012
4. Beulah Needs Another Man 3/18/2012
5. Two In The Head 3/20/2012
6. Memories 3/21/2012
7. The Honey Room 10/10/2011
8. So Fingertips Kiss 10/11/2011
9. 'Lemon Underwear' 10/12/2011
10. In Break Formation 10/9/2011
11. A Day In The Life Of Paddy Murphy, Broker 3/30/2012
12. Take Me To The Taxidermist 3/31/2012
13. Scenes From A Parish 4/2/2012
14. No New Woman 4/2/2012
15. Dropped By A Peacock 4/4/2012
16. Haberdasher's Thoughts 4/4/2012
17. Recluse At Coney 4/6/2012
18. Dr. Donohue 4/6/2012
19. Bells From The Cathedral 4/7/2012
20. Dad 4/7/2012
21. Waggle And Jounce 4/8/2012
22. Pedro, Pablo And Little José 4/11/2012
23. Hermit's Confession 4/14/2012
24. The Cab That I Caught 4/16/2012
25. Unintelligent Design 4/17/2012
26. Prayer For The Priests Of Mexico City 4/17/2012
27. Staff Meeting At Auschwitz 4/22/2012
28. Boysenberry Eyes Awhirl 4/24/2012
29. Mother's Day 4/25/2012
30. Straight In His Caneback Chair 4/30/2012
31. Paddy Murphy's Wake 4/30/2012
32. What Purpose Does A Rabbit Have 5/1/2012
33. Wilson And Broadway At 4 A.M. 5/1/2012
34. Kissing Carol Ann 5/3/2012
35. The Last Honeydew 5/5/2012
36. Meeting Dad Again 5/15/2012
37. Diamond Of Jello 5/15/2012
38. Collateral Damage 5/15/2012
39. Dawn Tomorrow 5/17/2012
40. Strangers In Peoria 5/18/2012
Best Poem of Donal Mahoney

Ptsd

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

The Honey Room

Brother Al, in his hood,
is out in his field
making love to his bees.
From my room I can see him
move through his hives
the way people should move
among people.
The bees give him gold and the gold
turns orange in the jars

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