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Donal Mahoney St Louis / United States, Male, 78
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Poems read  
9/30/2016 2:58:00 PM
9/30/2016 2:26:00 PM
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9/28/2016 3:19:00 PM
9/27/2016 3:05:00 PM
9/27/2016 2:32:00 PM
9/27/2016 1:41:00 PM
9/27/2016 12:54:00 PM
9/26/2016 2:01:00 PM
Poems Rated  
9/11/2012 3:01:00 PM

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Donal Mahoney's last comments on poems and poets

  • POEM: Above Bob Gordon's Bog by Donal Mahoney (7/31/2016 1:29:00 PM)

    Gene, the Irish indeed used it a lot, My father in 1952 used it while going around the house mumbling about the bog above Bob Gordon's bog. Never could find out anything about it except it was in rural Ireland from whence he was expelled by the English for running guns for the IRA as a teen circa 1922 after two years in prison. He would turn of a movie on TV if he heard an English accent. I was an Irish dancer to please my father and had to dance at benefits for the Widow Murphy but all the money went back to Ireland to arm the IRA. Perhaps your recall the Irish blowing up bridges but always after the English were no longer on them. Drove the poor man nuts. He did not live long enough to learn my son won a Rhodes Scholarship and studied two years at Oxford. He would not have been happy, be the saddle mighty, another saying I never understood.

  • POEM: A Working Life by Donal Mahoney (7/19/2016 4:51:00 AM)

    Eugene,

    I thank you for your comment and I don't know why I am the way I am or why I see life as I do. It's helpful in writing but not always when I am out in public with normal people. When one sees someone with a larger than normal nose and begins to think about anteaters, that can be a problem unless the first three lines of a poem show up with a piece of scrap paper so the poem can be finished later. But it's the way I am and writing gives me an out for living with it.

    Thanks again.

    Donal

  • POEM: St. Patrick's Day (Written In Honor Of "The Donal"- Donal Mahoney, In Thanks For The Pleasure I've Had Reading His Wonderful Poems And Stories, Particularly Of Ireland.) by Eugene Levich (3/16/2016 5:28:00 AM)

    Eugene,

    I thank you for the poem, Gene, and I can tell you as a former Irish step dancer when I was a teenager, your last verse captures the ambiance and rhythm of what was called the feis, the contest held once a year where young Irish dancers from the U.S. and different countries gathered to compete against one another. I remember riding a train from Chicago to New York in 1954 to dance at Fordham University and our eight-hand jig beat everybody EXCEPT a team of old men with their partners who had been drinking all night, then sobered up and at noon the next day danced us into the ground. We were dancing to win and they were dancing for fun. The music is still in my blood and when I hear it I sometimes am moved to tears. It's the only music that ever really moved me, although dancing to Glen Miller and In the Mood would come a close second. Zygazunt!

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