The Good was Taken out of the Summer
The good was taken out of the summer,
With her garden patch left abandoned,
Lettuce heads and scallions gone wild,
Her sweet summer plans all spoiled.
The good was taken out of the summer,
With green fly festering her roses,
Overwatered orchids on the sill
As her plastic bread bowl lay still.
The good was taken out of the summer,
With Hunter, her dog left in waiting
For her voice, her footsteps, her care
And the fridge in the kitchen left bare.
The good was taken out of the summer,
Put on pause til her homecoming came,
While in convalescence she lay
In a nursing home, day after day.
The good was put back into summer,
When she returned to where she belonged,
To her garden patch, Hunter and flowers,
To sit,
To be still,
To be ours.
Categories:
scallions, longing, love, mother, sick,
Form: Alliteration
Dumplings
As I walk into the kitchen, for a snack,
my mother, her apron, night black hair, and jade bracelet,
makes me dumplings.
She combines the mixture of monotonous ingredients
into something extraordinary.
The water, like a youthful spring, rejuvenated the frozen, faltering fruits of nature,
Mixing the Yangtzee, Hei Long Jiang, and Chang Jiang into a savory paste of veal and kiwi green scallions and chives.
The distinct sound of chopping drowned my thoughts, easing my stress, and bringing a unique rhythm into my mind.
The dough, seeping under her fingers, was firm yet malleable
as if she was molding
the future.
The clicking of the gas stove, rumbling of the pot, flattening of the dumpling skins, the clinking of bowls and chopsticks, the scrubbing noises in the sink.
A rousing prelude to an intoxicating fugue…
Dinner
Categories:
scallions, 10th grade, food, mom,
Form: Free verse
no din less more pronounced upon your ear
scallions separated blend to meet the stew
when hearty hearts drink out the broth of fear
and bury those with heavy hearts they knew
long mornings sun bestowed upon
when laddies grew beneath
and lads to lasses onward come
to part the laurel wreath
Tis hill we fools apart the path will travel
hats upon a head no longer there
and when to meet the layers to unravel
and when is left the floor yet barely bare
in ages ancient passed behind the eye
I long the longest sound to whisper now
and you may bring the bringing all for aye
but never will this song be singing low
ye cannot enter here nor can I come
for this the place that none can call their home
to hither yonder plain and tip to dome
none can worship all that worship some
some drink to fill the tears that they have lost
some cost is paid for every spill we see
though our hearts may fairly break each day
each day is payment fair for what we be
Categories:
scallions, dedication, devotion, fate, giving,
Form: Iambic Pentameter
Perfection
Is it hard to believe, that when I see you, I see perfection?
A perfect sight would be to see #17 finally hoist up that Lombardi trophy,
The sight of you is more perfect than that.
The perfect scent is to smell ginger, garlic, and scallions sautéing over an open flame,
Your scent is more perfect than that.
The perfect sound is to hear wave after wave crash onto the shoreline,
The sound of your voice is more perfect than that.
The perfect touch is to feel the coolness of the other side of the pillow,
Your touch is more perfect than that.
Is it hard to believe, that when I see you, I see perfection?
Categories:
scallions, love,
Form: Free verse
The strong, potent garlic,
browning in olive oil, fragrance
throughout the house. Pasta
soon would follow. As we entered
the dining room we could smell
the sweet fragrance of fresh basil,
an added invitation to sheer
delight.
Freshly chopped tomato and
scallions fried, gave color to the
dish and last, the gray, delicate
shrimp slowly turning pink.
All then poured over a bed of
penne pasta. Laughter filled the
room like a song. You could feel
the simple elegance of dining
with friends. A bottle of aged
Cabernet was poured... let the
feast begin.
October 1st, 2015
Categories:
scallions, food,
Form: Didactic
Peter the Pumpkin went walking one night
When Samantha the Squash strolled past
Peter was smitten, it was love at first sight
"Will you marry me now?" He asked
They ran to Patch Hall like frolicking pups
Judge Winnie the Witch performed rites
"Any veggie who objects, speak now or shut-up!
I pronounce you pumpkin and wife"
Gossip spread in the patch as events unfolded
Artichokes choked and sweet onions cried
Cucumbers clambered and scallions scolded
"Outrageous! They both should be fried!"
Sam's momma fainted, Pete's papa condemned
His shell was quivering with rage
"An inter-gourd marriage? Over my dead stem!
I'll beet your rind-end, you're underage!"
So they fled to Farmer Joe's fruit tree estate
(They're a bit more liberal, you see)
"Hey, what's the big deal? We cross-pollinate!
Sit down, have some compost, feel free!"
"Joe will hoe you a quaint little fertilized bed
There's plenty of space here to grow"
So they put down their roots and quickly cross-bred
Two dozen young Squashkins in a row
Categories:
scallions, fantasy, halloween,
Form: Quatrain
Another night I sit at the computer instead
of dancing a fancy jig with a japanese fan
or putting on the perfect shade of red lipstick
and eating pastry encrusted crab cakes
with buerre blanc and scallions
blowing off the advances of an old flame
while calling a cab and lighting
my own cigarette
Looking at the moonlight through my lover's hair is
impossible because we never
get to see each other
And we are always too embarassed
To meet the other's gaze after our own
endeavors to become more like ourselves
backfire in our respective faces
and shame us into
behaving as if no one cared in the first place
I will still sniff the air around me
and determine if you are still fit for my bed.
Take your clothes off, please.
Categories:
scallions, inspirational, love, natural disasters,
Form: Free verse
Window at the Abbey
Through the window I see
the sun fire up
for the last time today.
There are jays
in the trees near the meadow,
crows in the grass
I cut with a scythe
early this morning.
Still on my platter
corn from the fields,
scallions, tomatoes,
bell pepper and cheese.
I'll remain at my table
with lemon and tea
and look out on the land
that surrounds me.
The psalms a monk
gave me this morning
I'll read for an hour
before sleeping.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
scallions, faith
Form: Free verse
Autumn at the Abbey
Through the window I see
the sun fire up
for the last time today.
There are jays
in the trees near the meadow,
crows in the grass
I cut with a scythe
early this morning.
Still on my platter
corn from the fields,
scallions, tomatoes,
bell pepper and cheese.
I'll remain at my table
with lemon and tea
and look out on the land
that surrounds me.
The psalms a monk
gave me this morning
I'll read for an hour
before sleeping.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
scallions, faith
Form: Free verse
meat market
and i'm standing like a
flank steak
everyone has preference to their
cuts
i'm tough
until thoroughly marinated
with
gaelic garlic
scandanavian scallions
nice broth
and throw
some potatoes at my head
until i speak as
a human
stewing on a fire
and never limping
through the life process
of food for thought
or horse steaks bought
for too many dollars
the meat market
needs new flesh
for the old to
chew on their fresh
souls of ginger
to refresh their breath
smiling while defiling
the unaware
because meat lockers are kept
at 28 degrees
with swinging flesh in a U-haul
going to places anew
transportation of regurgitation
to the new ridiculous
meatwagon
Categories:
scallions, allegory, animals, funny, history,
Form: Free verse
We polished life's little treasures
underneath the cranky red dragon
Fried noodles crispy and curled like our tongues
when the world was a mix tape of our perfect songs
We sat on green vinyl for hours
with clear soup and it's scallions grown cold
While mulling our thoughts and perfecting our dreams
Though but a memory, quite real it still seems...
We made mental notes of sweet air
and the spice of our food set afire
You still mean to me what you did in our youth
amidst all the lies, sifting through to the truth
We left arm in arm in the rain
and nodded a bow to the Koi
My friend, will you meet me, it will do us much good
to rehash all our thoughts over bad Chinese food...
Categories:
scallions, friendship, happiness, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme