Saturday, 16 July 2016

A Traveling Salesman

This traveling salesman 
has worn out six vans 
in 40 years and he
hopes to retire soon.

Age and illness 
are growing concerns
and there isn’t a pill 
for everything.

Every 20 miles or so
he has to stop for 
a rest room, usually 
at a gas station.

Then one day he sees 
a highway billboard 
that promises help.
He dials the 800 number 

on his cell phone
and a machine answers:
“Incontinence Hotline.
Can you hold?”


Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net 

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, US and has had poems published in Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa 

Friday, 3 June 2016

Wandering Eye

An image of floating eye
taking in the scenery,
and I seeing the eye

makes me wonder about
the time when my sight
will dim, when my mind

will no longer solve
puzzles, a bare bulb
snapped brittle in two.



Alan Inman
New York, NY 

Tuesday, 24 May 2016

Ripened

There is a time
to plant, wise people know,
a time to tend.
My fingers never took 
to moving earth, opting
instead for convenience.
My generation is the one
of the mail-order catalog.
But nature has moods,
starlight movements, a song
I sometimes pretend to hum.

J Ash Gamble
Ft Myers, 
Florida, US

Tuesday, 17 May 2016

Went Back

I went back twelve
times, once for each
disciple, once for each
meditation
No time was the same 
for I found I had outgrown
the place of my growing
Old jokes were no longer
humorous, old wounds
itching over with healing,
even some old memories
fading from me.



Kaitlyn Park
Salem, 
Oregon, US

Monday, 9 May 2016

Gist

Wise old professors
ask me for the point
I'm getting to

I have loved populations
on pages, voices
tucked in verses

I have loved learning
about assonance and
Rosenblatt, all the spaces
between reader and text

The point I'm getting
to is I love the way
my son crawls off a page
into reality, how he squirms
with actual delight

Escape into my fiction
is delightful
but the real sounds echoing
around me are the true
gist of my creative life.


Hannah Scarlet
Valdosta,
Georgia, US

Thursday, 5 May 2016

Small Backyard

It’s a small backyard
I’ve watched for years
from an upstairs window
while chained to a computer.
Whatever the weather

the old widow was always
planting in spring
watering in summer
raking in fall
shoveling in winter

but the yard’s quiet now
the only traffic
a resident squirrel
heading for the oak
over the tall grass
the widow’s heir
has stopped mowing.

She told her son
you don’t have to garden
but please mow the grass
rake the leaves and
shovel the snow
or I’ll shake you
at midnight
the rest of your life.


Donal Mahoney
donalmahoney@charter.net 

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, US and has had poems published in Ancient Heart Magazine and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Tuesday, 3 May 2016

Subtle

Not so subtle
the love of words
like spinning stories
by gaslight

we are the trouble
makers, shaking earth
and sky
with small verses

we are the word
warriors describing
our plight one page
after another.


Angelica Fuse
Los Angeles,
California