Short Floe Poems

Ice floe in my heart
River Styx once frozen fast
thawed by your great love...

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leaf birls in floe winds
trees harvest flaming dry fire
earth’s robe a suite of patterns


November 2, 2022
Brain Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest...

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Cold as an iceberg
For the whole life deceivings 
Was the tender heart
Until an overwhelming
Wildfire melted the ice floe












3-15-2016...

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Ebb-less Floe


The ice floes will not return and he will never leave.


2/19/2016

submitted to – In one line (monoku #7) write what you see or feel – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Poet Destroyer A...

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To nowhere land in thought I often go,
Whilst there, I've naught to please.
Temporarily, I escape both ebb and floe,
Of life, while taking things at ease.

There, I view not days long past,
Nor contemplate those which may remain.
But am inclined to prayer and fast,
For this nowhere land is another's domain....

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Nowhere Land
By: Tom Wright
2/18/03

To nowhere land in thought I often go,
whilst there, I've naught to please.
Temporarily, I escape both ebb and floe,
of life, while taking things at ease.

There, I view not days long past,
nor contemplate those which may remain.
But am inclined to prayer and fast,
for this nowhere land is another's domain.
...

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Duck-walking on sheets of ice,
only the sky just above my lips is melting.

I move forward by counting the parked cars.
A bundled-up woman I knew from last winter waves at me,
she is way across a slithering street.

She was in service in Vietnam, she nursed,
this part of her I remember only.
Her weathered face underneath her mouth-covering scarf
is hidden today.

There is significance in this numbing landscape.
The road keeps sliding forward until it forgets us....

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Everyone who has money
should drop it in a vat and
anyone who needs money

should take what they need 
a Swede, a Dane and two 
Norwegians tell Fred, also an

economist who flew in from Yale.
After a three-day seminar in the
Antarctic, the four men sit down 

with tankards of ale, each comfy 
in a chaise lounge chair on 
an ice floe slowly melting.

Back at Yale, CNN interviews Fred 
about his book on the seminar.
The CIA is now investigating.


Donal Mahoney...

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Bag Lady 

		Chicago’s North Side

This senior citizen 
whose face is Rushmore still
squats with pigeons on the steps
of the Rogers Park Masonic Temple.
She wears a shawl this snowy day 
and is beneath the visor of a hunting cap 
a woman who has paused along the way.
Her shopping bags, stuffed, frayed,
and each square feature of her face, confess
she speaks at best a little English.
Rested, she will rise, 
a penguin on a floe,
and navigate her day.


Donal Mahoney...

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