Best Last Rites Poems

a haiku string


a bad man
he could never be ...
circumstance

blessed virgin 

wrong place
at the wrong time ...
justice prevailes

sweet mother of Christ                         ...

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a haiku string


a bad man
he could never be ...
circumstance

blessed virgin 

wrong place
at the wrong time ...
justice prevailes

sweet mother of Christ                         ...

Continue reading...

Stranded, sorrows billow suffering sails,
Surf snaps at broken hull's plea; 'swallow me'!
Lost love, life black-white, living color pales,
Tears sew sad tapestry on stirred sea.

Surf snaps at broken hull's plea; 'swallow me',
Grief, windswept memory’s muck lines the shore.
Tears sew sad tapestry on stirred sea,
Grains grit harsh...

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Tangled tubes connected to a body
laying still, breathing shallow, not awake
Beneath closed eyelids, rapid re-enactments
of so many unfinished things flashing by in meteor shower dreams
Unsaid words that are now whispered
to shadowy figures buried in the past
The dark abyss with mouth agape, ready to welcome this...

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My wife always hated holiday feasts
It seemed every year her hatred increased
   This year she stuffed the turkey
   With hard sticks of beef jerky
And smiled when my relatives called the priest...

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angry clouds crying
over freshly-prepared grave
soldier is home now


written July 8, 2021...

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Sun, my ever coming, now my ever going friend!
Mourn not, angelic mate, though this is the end
For as I watch how parts of you are slowly gone-
Still, others greet you on your shining throne.

But dear Sun? Why yet you grieve?
I never wanted more to leave!
Feel...

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When you have
an hour to live

what matters then 
is Christ in a pyx

in the vest pocket
of an old priest

called at midnight
by a nurse

who drives miles
through sleet 

and finds your room 
in the hospital


Donal Mahoney...

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Frozen body in
         in the icy river
A young woman 
          met her fate early
She wanted freedom 
    But she found     ...

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>center>LAST RITES (MIXED)

I’ve been having thoughts, a bit macabre,
About my funeral day.
I’m not getting any younger,
So it might not be far away.

How many folk will turn up
To see my final act?
Will it be just the family,
Or will the place be packed?

Will they say nice things...

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The sideburns of the Maples
Turned another color in early October

I look in my Roman bathroom mirror
Person reflected is a stranger to me

The green children
No more than sprouts finding their blossoms

Are impossibly older than me
More ancient than the planet’s lore

Poor last good kids

Hunched over and limping
Faithfully...

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The door had been 
opened before you passed
    through it
Light in the window 
     heralds a new day
One song away
     from the effervescent 
joy
     Only if you reach 
out
 ...

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