bomb shelters abloom
uranium-enriched dreams
hives cratered by drones
it is never a great day
to have pink eye or shingles or hives
Every time I get these maladies
it is an unhappy reminder that
today will not be a great day
Hives and wives are same
In making honey
Poems are coming slowfully.
For I am most woefully
And truly most woefully
In the hospital doe-fully
Itching my skin until bleeding
More potent pills I am pleading
Poems are decidedly misleading
Me out of this stupor I’ll be needing
Where did Noah keep his bees? In the Ark-hives
Groaning from my hairline down to my manly thighs
Got an offer from Hollywood
To star in a film bout manhood
They were astounded by my jumbo and sexy eyes
The Pollen of my life is sweetened-
Passed from bee to bee
Friendly flowers form a beacon
(My Queen beams humble-ly)
I feel alive; so bold inside-
Life is sweet in honey-hives!
Poppies bloom, a serum soon
Beckons forth my Soul to thrive!
*Just wondering if anyone can guess to what I am alluding? I will crown thee an astute observer as a prize ;)
Raspberry Hives
The ancient man with raspberry hives
on his cheeks since childhood
will live alone no longer.
He will marry, he says,
the first woman who’ll have him.
Till now he has wanted to die
as he’s lived, alone in his room
with the radio playing,
the water in the bathtub
dripping. The drone of hours,
however, has become
the drone of years
and the ancient man with raspberry hives
on his cheeks since childhood
fears death will convert
his hives into pocks, take his body
but reject his soul.
Now he believes if he weds
the first woman who’ll have him
death will have reason,
for the first time,
to do the job right.
Donal Mahoney
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