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Best Poems Written by Rhoda Monihan

Below are the all-time best Rhoda Monihan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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My Computer

I get from my computer, 
A doorway to myself, 
A way in to that spaghetti maze, 
Just sat on the shelf. 
 
I am disabled, Cerebral Palsy,
And that means I just can't write, 
Poetry's just been in my head, 
When I've not been able to type. 
 
The screen jests with light, 
Welcomes me in to portray, 
Fights about morality, 
Fights about the right way. 
 
The keyboard offers what faith forbode, 
Words that program and construct, 
A way of living that’s acceptable, 
One that's with your gut. 
 
And the delete key was once my pride, 
It let you say anything and make mistakes, 
Fundamentalists say you must watch your words, 
And about speech they have the shakes. 
 
But now I'm into Wikipedia, 
And WikiRational is even better, 
Lets you in on the academia, 
That glorious long love letter. 
 
They'll beat cancer, not god, 
By rational inquiry through research, 
They'll develop drugs which synthesise, 
Treatments for good health. 
 
My computer, and now my tablet, 
Give me freedom of speech, 
My childhood world deprived me of it, 
Such that I'd always have to screech. 
 
It is the colour that I want it to be, 
White for the puritan’s yell, 
It signs that I use it wisely, 
For truth, for truth to tell. 
 
It never commands me - I command it, 
Control and function its modes, 
And when I feel vulnerable and rejected, 
Can program it with different codes. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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Harvest Thanksgiving

I do so love harvest thanksgiving, 
That time of year which celebrates agriculture, 
When church flips from being god-centred, 
To remembering farmers and good food manufacture.  

It’s not an Armenian or Amish allusion, 
‘Cos tins are given no problem; 
Natural remedies aren’t primed as better, 
Than medicines, to the mind and body superior. 

As a child who regretfully attended church, 
I thought on that day of poverty and Christian giving:
That their offer was kind of a respectable food bank, 
A silent redistribution of wealth, income and living. 

No food bank is respectable, of course, 
But they can channel wealth efficiently and appropriately;
And that the Church offers such for just one day, 
Should be celebrated as a positive sign most definitely. 

God is sometimes just such an abstraction, 
Academically, he’s for the objective mind; 
He’s not comforting when your needs are just so real:
Physical, emotional, psychological: he can be so unkind. 

When you just need a meal on the table, 
And need it supplied by someone else, 
Whether by government, food bank or church, 
It’s a person that's there, not divine impulse. 

I thought it was moral to impose that on believers, 
As a kid who just so wanted to talk and shoot, 
About real mechanisms, real structures and methods, 
Which made life’s systems, dynamics, art and roots.  

Being grateful for food, diet and health, 
Eclipses salvation humility and responce;
Eternal purpose lays as distant and non-tangible, 
To people and belongings which have an unimpeachable force. 

Farmers need to be remembered, given relevance, 
For their labour, dedication and sheer love of the job; 
It’s that occupation and training which ensures, 
Our basic daily needs are met not just with contours.

The harvest basket every year means to me hope, 
Nourishment for those who starve and scrape;
Church wealth rides so high and mighty on average, 
That this real examination is something to advocate. 


Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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Unity and Oneness

Oneness is silent,
Sweet and with sent,
And unity never ultimately shouts,
But in coalition mounts.

Unity can be found in a group or just the two of you,
In a community's graffiti artists with a rue,
In a school’s parents circle demanding more childcare,
Or in a company’s union who about pay care.

Oneness can be defined by stating,
That you are another person dating,
Romantically, politically or just socially,
By fashion, voice or class, or economically.

All people are one,
And one matters to everyone,
And we have unity with others,
When we come along side our brothers.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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Going to Church

Going to Church?

So no,
Can’t go.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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See Him For What He Is

Thump Trump,
Big lump. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2016

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Trapped

At least it’s not entrapment, school, 
But aims at freedom of speech, 
For every pupil, every child, 
Whatever it is that they beseech. 

But when you feel like you’re in prison, 
Just speak, if you can, well and clear, 
And, if they ignore you in the meantime, 
Maybe one day they'll draw near. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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May Life Bless You

May life bless you with real freedom, 
Keep enjoyment as your place, 
May you find your own confidence, 
From your education and your space;
May you entertain discernment,
Whilst fulfilling your desires,
And may platitude be rescinded, 
By real love in your eyes.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May you receive more than you give, 
And see reason when there's none,
May your friends light your inside,   
May you give hope to those with one;
May you save the exploited from oppression,
By making despair to you most personal,
And may equality be the standard,
For your repudiation of its dismissal.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May you always uphold justice, 
Even in dark and uncertain times,
When faced with honest requests, 
And its unsettled times sometimes; 
May you do what’s right no problem, 
Not questioning the strain, 
Nor grumbling about the consequences, 
Of morality’s devoted love train. 

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May your diamond be stalwart honour,
For war heroes old and injured,
Tormented by battlefields and sights,
Of the mangled and beleaguered; 
May you testify to fact and truth, 
And publish what you know;
And may reason be your sociology, 
To dictatorial governments overthrow. 

May life be all.... 

May you respect others in esteem, 
For kindness and achievement,
May you follow those you understand, 
As beautiful in accomplishment;
May you undertake endeavours, 
Which ramify the other unstudied, 
By embracing love and laughter, 
As whispers of grace embodied. 

May life be all... 

May you always say what’s inside,
Whilst giving other people a chance,
Trusting them with your memories, 
That history upon which you cannot glance; 
May you always speak your mind, 
To make rationality your guide, 
And in dignity confide and correct, 
To let the delinquent within you abide. 

May life be all... 

May your philosophies be trophied,
As a garland by the lonely,
And may your way be warmly accepted, 
Without negotiation or apology;
May righteousness be your hallmark,
And caring thought your attribution, 
And may you prevail generally as a good person, 
Bringing light where there’s intrusion. 

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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My Computer Might Daydream About

My Computer Might Daydream About…

My computer may daydream about,
The Twilight films and the meaning of The Matrix,
The thought behind Star Trek and the point of Star Wars,
Which I repeatedly watch on its DVD Player,
And it may classify humankind for a lack of consideration,
For the intelligent slow typer who’s possibly disabled:
For his or her own personal shortcuts run.

I don't like typing a space after my shortcut abbreviations,
To indicate that the computer should expand my abbreviation:
I like typing just ‘tc’ to get ‘the ‘, (the with a space),
Not ‘tc ‘, tc and then a space, to get the same, the with a space;
As if I would not like to sacrifice the term ‘tc'
For a quicker way of typing ‘the ’, the with a space:
Why the fiip should I type a space every time?

I obviously would demand to turn the shortcuts feature off,
Just in case with eccentricity I chose all of a sudden,
To type ‘tc’ in an email, document or web entry field,
With or without a space, either way it would be fine,
To facilitate that desire of mine.

It’s so much faster, far superior and quite ingratiating, 
To cut out the space and just combine unused English characters,
Which never sit beside one another in language for readability:
I’ve used shortcuts like this since I was 10, and got a degree,
But it does not occur to any software developer as sense and sensibility.

I had 632 shortcuts without the spacebar like that on my old iBook,
On the TextExpander 2.8.1 app which was my chalice,
But naively asked their support staff if the app worked with Keystrokes 4,
Word predictions software which speeds and assures,
Who never replied to me, I suspect because they've never heard of,
Anyone using they’re business emailing app,
For shortcuts without the monotonous spacebar expansion key;
TextExpander is used to expand repeated business paragraphs from a thoughtful abbreviation.

My computer may also wonder about the engineer of my footswitch,
The device I use to type with, mind over matter,
Who mentioned to me something when he built it,
About the return key possibly not working at all times for all things:
So sometimes I have to stretch and use the keyboard:
What kind of nutter was he!?

It may also dream about my beliefs and views,
As it knows all my poetry so far with no blinkers;
Nothing is held back from my disk space,
Which sits as area so welcoming, so aware of me,
Letting me be secretive, true and very, very free.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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The Promise of Forgiveness

When I said to my love, please forgive me? 
He smiled in affirmative consummation:
Instantly I knew it was for good to be;
He had no fleeting or flighty attestation. 

He was mine, my love, my one and only, 
But never such interactively nor by day;
Free to blossom and mill, and free truely, 
And complimented me in every way. 

His forgiveness meant a solid promise, 
Of nurture, love, direction and guidance;
That he would have stealth and premise, 
For that which I had so much avoidance. 

When my poor attitude did not do, 
He forgave, and took me through. 


2nd of October 2015

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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The Forgiveness of Others

Warm, sticky hands palm off dry, self-centred ground,
Touched by gingerly acclaiming seeds of new-borns: 
Ready, willing and eager for the harsh, expecting role, 
Supposedly not with any crudeness, brashness or horns; 
As we sit in it, my tears embrace his spritely youth, 
And I ask for forgiveness for my naive, vigorous misdeed: 
He secures me with his smile and instinctive composure, 
Such that I no longer trepidatiously have to sweat and bleed; 
Permanency fairly permeates my fearful, angered heart:
The hope of someone else to tease the difficult, awkward task; 
My failure becomes his promise, and his foundation strong, 
So that the demand is no longer a mountainous, rocky ask.

When you yourself cannot conquer the rough terrain, 
Your friends and lovers attend to take the strain. 


2nd of October 2015

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

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