the oven burns off butter
or a blackened hunk of cheese.
you saunter in your apron,
laughing on bended knees.
the cherries on the oven mitts
have surely seen better days
but just like the rest of us
they have been worn
by your warming ways.
you smile gratefully as I whine over iced coffee
about my lack of compelling affairs.
because you have witnessed the tornados
once I've given in to wanting stares.
the kitchen is too hot.
my story is an exposed nerve.
still, you listen
grab the jam,
and biscuits
and wait for me to serve.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
not forever
not forever
they said it would pass
but they didn't say
it would happen fast.
go on and cry now,
you'll feel better later
is what they told me
but they didn't say
how long it would actually be.
they said the pain would subside.
and this time they were right.
they said if we press our noses on the glass
and tightly shut our eyes
before we know it we will have arrived.
but I don't always hear them
or love what they say.
and I know now all the shit
doesn't just go away.
so I sleep
soundly even though I have felt better
at least I believe that now
is not forever.
they said it would pass
but they didn't say
it would happen fast.
go on and cry now,
you'll feel better later
is what they told me
but they didn't say
how long it would actually be.
they said the pain would subside.
and this time they were right.
they said if we press our noses on the glass
and tightly shut our eyes
before we know it we will have arrived.
but I don't always hear them
or love what they say.
and I know now all the shit
doesn't just go away.
so I sleep
soundly even though I have felt better
at least I believe that now
is not forever.
Friday, January 22, 2010
wonder wow
Wonder Wow
two shiny star children
met under disco lights.
danced, drank, drowned
in love, liquor and fights.
with faux fur and fake fury,
two star children
collided, collapsed
in absolute hurry.
orbiting earth/ walking among us
their celestial love made mountains
out of miles of magic dust.
earthbound,
their powers weakened
their language was unspoken
the lights and the fights
simply stayed broken.
two shiny star children
presently pressed in paper,
adhered with sticky spray,
and flatly filed away
were perhaps to sparkly
to ever really stay.
despite the furious fists,
we remember them fondly
(now).
we wonder the why.
we wonder the where.
we wonder the how.
we wonder the wow.
two shiny star children
met under disco lights.
danced, drank, drowned
in love, liquor and fights.
with faux fur and fake fury,
two star children
collided, collapsed
in absolute hurry.
orbiting earth/ walking among us
their celestial love made mountains
out of miles of magic dust.
earthbound,
their powers weakened
their language was unspoken
the lights and the fights
simply stayed broken.
two shiny star children
presently pressed in paper,
adhered with sticky spray,
and flatly filed away
were perhaps to sparkly
to ever really stay.
despite the furious fists,
we remember them fondly
(now).
we wonder the why.
we wonder the where.
we wonder the how.
we wonder the wow.
Monday, January 11, 2010
don't ask me
don't ask me
The guy is a tool.
You two won't last.
You're acting a fool.
It's moving too fast.
The end will be cruel
and you'll be out on your ass.
Yet I don't say this shit today.
I mind my own damn business.
And try to stay out of the way.
After all, who wants bitter advice
from somebody looking for a fight?
Even in silence
My rolling eyes say
"I told you so"
my crossed arms say
"Girl, I know."
I've bombed at the love game
and I feel like everyone else will too.
This is fatalistic and far from true.
So just don't ask me
if he loves you
or if I think it's moving too fast.
Or if his mother will be cool
or what I know about his past.
This game, like I said
has really kicked my ass.
So please
just don't ask.
- Sean Mahoney 1/11/2010
The guy is a tool.
You two won't last.
You're acting a fool.
It's moving too fast.
The end will be cruel
and you'll be out on your ass.
Yet I don't say this shit today.
I mind my own damn business.
And try to stay out of the way.
After all, who wants bitter advice
from somebody looking for a fight?
Even in silence
My rolling eyes say
"I told you so"
my crossed arms say
"Girl, I know."
I've bombed at the love game
and I feel like everyone else will too.
This is fatalistic and far from true.
So just don't ask me
if he loves you
or if I think it's moving too fast.
Or if his mother will be cool
or what I know about his past.
This game, like I said
has really kicked my ass.
So please
just don't ask.
- Sean Mahoney 1/11/2010
maybe later by Sean Mahoney
Maybe Later
Roll me 'round in flour
Dip me in a batter.
Fry me until golden brown
and serve me, warm, on a platter.
Or let me bask under the heat lamp
shoulder to shoulder
with coconut shrimp
and foiled wrapped taters.
I know I have a life to live
but I'll get to it
maybe later.
Right this second does not work for me.
Right this minute I need to be directed,
I need to be seasoned. I need to be kneaded.
I need to be savored. I need to be protected.
The rest of the day
might just get pittered away.
The endless fussing and fighting
crying and writing
can't work right now.
But maybe later....
- Sean Mahoney 1/11/10
Roll me 'round in flour
Dip me in a batter.
Fry me until golden brown
and serve me, warm, on a platter.
Or let me bask under the heat lamp
shoulder to shoulder
with coconut shrimp
and foiled wrapped taters.
I know I have a life to live
but I'll get to it
maybe later.
Right this second does not work for me.
Right this minute I need to be directed,
I need to be seasoned. I need to be kneaded.
I need to be savored. I need to be protected.
The rest of the day
might just get pittered away.
The endless fussing and fighting
crying and writing
can't work right now.
But maybe later....
- Sean Mahoney 1/11/10
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
After Whoa by Sean Mahoney
After Whoa
its like holy shit.
its like this is it.
its like oh no.
its like whoa.
but after the crash,
when the mirror has smashed
and the hotel room's been trashed
what's after that?
what is on the next page?
what is left behind on the stage?
do you implode in a rage
or just quietly fade?
Sifting through the ashes
is what comes after whoa.
picking up the pieces
while trying to lay low.
tears rinse off the wreckage.
clothes get picked up off the floor.
the phone is answered.
you wander to the store.
yet maybe you freeze
and thaw real slow.
best not to rush it
so soon after whoa.
Sean Mahoney 1/6/10
its like holy shit.
its like this is it.
its like oh no.
its like whoa.
but after the crash,
when the mirror has smashed
and the hotel room's been trashed
what's after that?
what is on the next page?
what is left behind on the stage?
do you implode in a rage
or just quietly fade?
Sifting through the ashes
is what comes after whoa.
picking up the pieces
while trying to lay low.
tears rinse off the wreckage.
clothes get picked up off the floor.
the phone is answered.
you wander to the store.
yet maybe you freeze
and thaw real slow.
best not to rush it
so soon after whoa.
Sean Mahoney 1/6/10
Friday, January 1, 2010
2010- new year, new poetry, and new attitude.
The great Peggy Lee once sang "if that's all there is my friends then let's keep dancing." I tend to agree with Ms. Lee. I think we might as well spend our time doing what we love as our eventual fate is inevitable. For me that means spending much of 2010 writing. It saves my ass. It frees me from crazy thoughts. It makes me, well, me.
So below is a petite, new poem to kick off my participation in the 2010 Poetry Challenge. I am just going to sit down at the keyboard and let most of these poems happen. I've spent far too much time editing and hand wringing over writing in the past so to just expel new works at a rapid and carefree rate will be something new for me. Check back daily to see the latest developments in this poetic experiment.
Happy New Year!
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