No lovelier time,
than having summery memories of
vintage days in my early twenties,
with a youth’s passion in
seersucker fashion.
I drove out to the Hamptons and
deeply took in an art show.
Later on I dined alone in an
outdoor cafe.
I was so cosmopolitan,
sitting as the placid breeze blew
so gently to me.
I gazed as if in a soft dream,
at an artist painting sailboats on
the bluest water,
such a calm kind of July afternoon.
Sipping on a gin and tonic,
no lovelier time,
whiling away,
how I miss those summertide days. ~
A translucent bluish-white mineral with a mysterious sheen
I hear them rustling behind heaven's plisse,
fabric seersucker curtains, opaque but unlaced
One breath and suddenly
I'm a teleported being
letting go of all faculties and senses;
A prayer on the lips searching for everlasting hope.
These precious substances of color and charm
both calm and confident, ignite the soul
and usher it to peace, love, and harmony.
Filled with Goddess energy
exuding warm tones of luminescent, ephemeral light
the hand receives what the eyes have encased
lost inside clairaudient auditory movements
Moonstone Melodies;
Yokiko reveries fill me like no other
listen to the sound they make
Angels dressed in crinoline gowns,
swooshing and spreading light
everywhere...
Lost in their chime like sound of tinkling glass
they are un-comparable,
A thousand stars of heaven could never compare
to these moonstone gems,
who seem to claim the heart bit by bit
and then, all at once.
Hedge with a Hole
Stretched on the couch
by the living room window,
too tired to rise,
verify locks and the stove,
officially retire, he hears outside
blasts of a curse, fists, and feet
running. In the morning,
before he leaves for the train,
crisp in his seersucker suit,
he walks around to the window,
finds creeping bent torn,
roses beheaded,
the hedge with a hole
the girth of a man.
He will be too upset
this morning
to read his paper
on the train.
Donal Mahoney
Pastimes, purpose, those passionate flings;
Fortunes and futures take uncharted swings;
None deter dust when it’s your time to go;
What will matter then – if it’s fast or it’s slow?
Marriage, a mortgage, anniversary rings;
Diapers, diplomas, as your wallet grows wings;
Who will recall what you went out and got?
What will matter then-are you ready or not?
Symphonies, solos, the songs that you sing;
Regrets, then remorse, the sorrow they bring;
None linger long when you leave it behind;
It’s something to file in the back of your mind.
The swelter of summer as the seersucker clings;
A sharp shot of winter that shivers and stings;
None measure much when it’s time to depart;
What will matter then-did you live with your heart?
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