Donal Mahoney Poems

A few years ago Herb Adams, a plumber by trade, went with his wife, Ellie, to her flower show where many ladies and a few men displayed their skill arranging flowers they had grown in their gardens during the summer. Usually Ellie wins prizes with her arrangements. It was the first time Herb had ever gone to one of the shows but that morning he could think of no plausible illness to feign. But as Herb likes to point out he spends a great deal of money buying the rare bulbs and seeds his wife plants so at least he is helpful in that respect.

That year, however, Ellie finished second to another woman in the competition and she felt cheated. She said the other woman used different flowers but had stolen Ellie's design that was original with her for that show. Since this was a Creative Design competition, an innovative and original design was very important.
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It’s time to leave the man alone.
He’s getting old, his wife says.
He’s really slowing down.
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There are pockets
of them everywhere,
quiet and discreet.
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After all the tests
and the doctor’s explanation
she thinks of them not
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In 1920, my father,16, was a guest of the British government. He was a prisoner of their forces occupying Ireland at the time, a group called the Black and Tans.

One day he and seven other prisoners were brought out of their makeshift cells to dig their own graves in a small walled compound. As tradition would have it, they would be shot into their graves and other prisoners would be brought out to bury them.
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Humphrey had just turned 100 when Bret,16, was a guest at a party for this man he didn’t know. Bret went along to help an old neighbor lady who had known Humphrey all her life. He didn’t mind standing in line with her to shake Humphrey’s hand along with all the other guests who appeared to number in the hundreds.

The line moved slowly because Humphrey talked a little with each guest as they bent over his wheelchair while shaking his hand. Bret didn’t mind because he figured at his age, Humphrey might indeed know something Bret didn’t know. Besides all that food on the buffet table looked very good.
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Mad Mel is an entrepreneur
but someone has upset his puppets.

It’s hard to be an entrepreneur
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A drunk comes into McDonald’s
staggers to the counter
is waited on by a young lady
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The author tells the reporter
from the New Yorker he has
no electrical power in his cave
and that’s why he writes
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