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Donal Mahoney St Louis / United States, Male, 78
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Latest 5 Poems of Donal Mahoney

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Donal Mahoney's last comments on poems and poets

  • 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)


    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!

  • POEM: A Quiet Beauty In Gray by Donal Mahoney (2/29/2016 4:33:00 AM)

    I have been watching starlings as well and have mixed emotions except when I realize we all have to eat and when they come to the feeder, it's gangbusters.

  • POEM: Where's The Sport? by Donal Mahoney (2/16/2016 3:59:00 AM)


    You make very good sense and you hunt not only for the joy of hunting but for the good eating that your hunting provides. I have no problem with that. What I trouble understanding is those who hunt simply to kill an animal whose noggin they can stuff and put over their mantel, That for me is hard to understand. I am more curious about the motivation than I am about the act of killing and mounting. I competed in basketball and Irish dancing and I was very competitive as a young person. But honestly the trophies and medals meant more to my father than to me. I cared about winning. And if I were a hunter or fisherman I would care about eating what I killed. Not only Scalia's death while at a hunting ranch but also a photo of a bow hunter with his kill of a magnificent 12 point buck got me to thinking. I would have had to be very hungry to kill so magnificent an animal. And I am not soft-hearted. I would shoot a burglar in seconds. It's killing to mount over the mantel that I don't understand. Your explanation is a good one and should be written up for people who simply object to hunting altogether. I've never been in that camp. And I have had venison summer sausage in my time and it was delicious, needed no comments. Thanks for your response.

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