Donal Mahoney


Donal Mahoney Poems

1. Shrimp In Lobster Sauce -new- 8/3/2015
2. Sunday Commandants -new- 8/3/2015
3. Old People 6/13/2015
4. Supreme Court May Decide 6/15/2015
5. Ancient Paradox Alive Today 6/16/2015
6. Rewrite Man 6/16/2015
7. Up Periscope 6/16/2015
8. Let Any Agnostic Provide A Reply 6/17/2015
9. Another Mass Shooting 6/20/2015
10. Oddfellow 6/21/2015
11. Summer Nocturne 6/22/2015
12. Parenthood 6/22/2015
13. Email To A Son 6/25/2015
14. Homeless In Nome 6/26/2015
15. Game Of Life 6/27/2015
16. Strike! 6/28/2015
17. An Old Nun's Opinion 6/28/2015
18. One Of Those Yanks 7/3/2015
19. Before He Left 7/3/2015
20. One More For The Road 7/3/2015
21. Sundown Surl 7/5/2015
22. Cobra Swaying 7/8/2015
23. Third Grade Science Class 7/8/2015
24. Barbershop 7/11/2015
25. Time To Check The Labels On Our Shirts 7/11/2015
26. El Chapo Comes To San Francisco 7/13/2015
27. Green Panatela 7/14/2015
28. Game Called 7/15/2015
29. Is The World Off Its Meds? 7/17/2015
30. When Sparrows Matter More 7/19/2015
31. Adjusting To The Times -new- 7/20/2015
32. Going To Planned Parenthood Again -new- 7/24/2015
33. My Wall Street Garden -new- 7/25/2015
34. Running For President -new- 7/27/2015
35. Whitey -new- 7/28/2015
36. Termites Or Carpenter Ants -new- 7/28/2015
37. The Election In America 2016 -new- 7/29/2015
38. Apricot Glow -new- 8/2/2015
39. Moving On -new- 8/2/2015
40. Fetuses Shmetuses -new- 8/2/2015
Best Poem of Donal Mahoney

A Good Neighbor

Cookies for George,
40 years back from Viet Nam,
are the only payment
the man will accept
to mow your lawn,
rake your leaves,
shovel your snow.

He sleeps behind
his brother's house
above the garage.
Every two weeks
he shaves and bathes.
His brother takes him
to the Veterans Hospital.

George has cancer again
40 years after Agent Orange.
But he'll mow your lawn,
rake your leaves
and shovel your snow
for nothing less than
cookies for George.

Read the full of A Good Neighbor

'Doubting Thomas'

For years I've fed this feral cat at 4 a.m.,
a crouching mound of fur, Satanic black, with yellow eyes
that never blink. I call him 'Doubting Thomas.'

I place his can of Fancy Feast five feet or so from him.
He doesn't stir till I go in the house
and douse the porch light.

Then he leaps and cleans the can

[Hata Bildir]