​An Imam Should Say


a senryu


An imam should say
eternity lasts too long
to sit by the fire




Donal Mahoney

​Two Coots on New Year’s Eve
Months roar by like weeks
and weeks disappear like days, 
two coots in a bar admit
on New Year’s Eve, 
reminiscing over a beer
and counting birthdays,
wondering what awaits them
on the other side.

Walt’s optimistic.
He says the other side 
means no more pills, 
no more referrals,
happiness again. 

“Bunk,” says Elmo.
"There’s nothing 
on the other side.
Take my word for it.  
There’s only diddly-squat 
in the ether."

Walt says that’s a nasty
thing to say in light of
Sister Mary Rose. 
She paddled them 
in third grade for 
making fun of Patsy Foley.

“I deserved the paddle,” 
Elmo says. “She never
hit us hard enough to hurt
but I yelled anyway
to make her feel good.
She’s out there now
swimming in the ether.
I’ll see her soon."

Walt hails the waitress 
for two more beers
and another pack
of salted peanuts.

Then he tells Elmo
as he does 
every New Year’s Eve
to sell his condo
and move in with him.
Plenty of room.

Elmo says "no can do."
All those prayers
would kill him.  

Both men agree 
to meet again 
next New Year’s Eve
if all goes well. 

Neither wants to leave
the other sitting 
in a little bar
on New Year’s Eve,
cracking peanuts
over a single beer
while the other’s 
swimming in the ether. 
Or maybe smiling 
on the other side.


Donal Mahoney

New Year's Resolutions
 
Jim Daley and Joe McCarthy had something in common. They died at 80 going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Walt O'Brien, their protege, found this out when he called the homes of both men on New Year's Day, an annual custom for Walt, something he started doing years ago just to find out how his old mentors were doing.
 
Jim's widow spoke to Walt on the phone and told him Jim had died from a stroke on Halloween. They had found his body in the morning, half in the bathroom and half in the hallway, cold as a mackerel fresh out of the sea. Jim's widow said she was a sound sleeper. Walt thought she should have heard his body fall since Jim was a big man, all belly and buttocks, as Jim himself would put it.
 
Joe's widow said her Joe had tripped on the bathroom rug on All Soul's Day, banged his head on the commode and died in intensive care a week later, never emerging from his coma. She was happy the priest got there in time to administer the last rites before Joe stopped breathing. His last breath, she said, was a gurgle.
 
Jim and Joe had been more like uncles to Walt than mentors. They came into his life when Walt was in grammar school. It was just after his dad had been killed in Korea and Walt needed all the support he could get.
 
Over the next 50 years Walt had stayed in touch with both men, calling them on New Year's Day from different cities. Their advice over the years helped Walt survive three job losses, a foreclosure, two car wrecks and four divorces. Sometimes their advice dealt with the big issues of life. But sometimes they commented on smaller phenomena as well.
 
Last year, for example, Jim had warned Walt that growing old meant not being able to put your underwear on standing up.
 
"I have to sit on the bed now," Jim had said, sounding almost depressed for a man known for his jocularity.
 
Right after Jim told him about the underwear problem, Walt called Joe and asked if Jim was right. Joe too confirmed he now had to sit on the bed to get his underwear on. He told Walt every man has to sit down at some point in life, provided he lives long enough.
 
"Age has its requirements," Joe said. "There's a happy medium, I suppose. If I had died a few years ago, I wouldn't be having this problem right now."
 
At 60, Walt could still put his underwear on standing up but it was getting more difficult. He had to hop on one leg, pogo-stick style, to get the job done. But sitting down was not an option. Walt was a proud man who had overcome bigger problems in life and he'd keep hopping for as long as he could.
 
One time, however, he almost fell but landed in a chair. His fourth wife Belinda still laughs about it even though they're no longer married. She even called two of his ex-wives and told them about it. They couldn't stop laughing.
 
Walt knows that one day he will have to sit down to put his underwear on unless he dies before that. He figures he has at least a few good years left. But after hearing that Jim and Joe had died trying to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night, Walt decided to take certain steps to avoid a similar mishap in his own life.
 
First, he installed night lights along the baseboards going from the bedroom to the bathroom. At midnight the hallway now shines like a small expressway with no traffic at all.

Then Walt made some New Year's resolutions, a step he had never taken before. As a result he now eats salads and fruit plates instead of double cheeseburgers and lots of ice cream. What's more he reads the Bible now and then in the morning. He's even quit drinking beer late into the night. 

The new Walt now sits back in his leather recliner, sips wine coolers out of old jelly jars and listens, over and over, to his favorite recording of an old Irish reel called "Toss the Feathers." It’s played beautifully, he says, by the McNulty Family, most of whose members, he figures, are by now dead.

When he was a boy, Jim and Joe had introduced Walt to traditional Irish music and even taught him a few steps of the reel, jig and hornpipe.

Once in awhile, when he's had enough wine, Walt tries to do a few of those steps and he succeeds to his own satisfaction.
​
And, of course, he still puts his underwear on standing up, one hop at a time.
 
Donal Mahoney

​A Tour Through An Ill Mind

Gather around. The tour is about to commence.
I hope you don’t get motion sick. 
Make sure you are in the right line.
This tour is for The Museum of an Ill Mind

Hang on to the handrail at all times.
The foundation can shift on a dime.
You may experience things you don’t Understand
Don’t ask me I don’t know, neither does this man

Dianne Lowe Breakfield

​A Legacy in Brief


The media is brimming with reports
about the legacy of Barack Obama.

He’s accomplished so much
it’s tough for experts to name 
his signature achievement.

But the 2016 election said it in neon 
blinking in Times Square: Trump!


Donal Mahoney

​Holiday Parties


Millie comes home bawling
from another holiday party and
Willie asks what’s the problem.


Millie says her friends are cheese balls. 
“They’re all widows, short and round,"
and she’s afraid when Willie dies 


she’ll eat everything in the fridge
and become a cheese ball, too.
Willie hugs his beloved Millie


and assures her with a kiss,
“You’ll never be a cheese ball, Darling
You're too tall. A cheese stick, maybe.”




Donal Mahoney

​Another Christmas Alone

Widow in a rocker
pets her calico cat
long strokes slowly.

With the cat purring
and the widow humming
Beethoven fills the house

with memories of 
the many years 
of mistletoe

and aftershave
as snowflakes 
dot the window.


Donal Mahoney

 
Nest
By Terry Goodkind
Published by Skyhorse Publishing

 
ABOUT THE BOOK:
 
Kate Bishop thought she was an ordinary woman living and working in Chicago. But when she unexpectedly finds herself in the middle of a police investigation into a brutal murder, Kate makes a shocking discovery: she has the ability to identify killers just by looking into their eyes.

Trying to grasp the implications of this revelation, Kate is drawn deep into a world of terror. She is tracked down by Jack Raines, a mysterious author with shadowy connections to those who share her ability. He tells Kate that her unique vision also makes her a target, and only he can help her.

Now, hot on Jack and Kate’s heels are a force of super-predators, vicious and bloodthirsty killers who will stop at nothing until Kate is dead. But even as she fights for her life, Kate still isn’t sure if Jack is really her salvation, or another killer coming to slaughter her.

An explosive mix of action and suspense, Nest is a landmark new novel from worldwide bestselling author Terry Goodkind, and a complete reinvention of the contemporary thriller. Travel with Goodkind on a dangerous journey to the back alleys of the darknet, to the darkest corners of our minds, and to the very origins of what it is to be human.
 
Genre: Thrillers & Suspense
432 pages
 
MY REVIEW - AMY O.
 
4 out of 5 stars   
I don’t typically read thrillers, but this one I thoroughly enjoyed. I was hooked from the first page, and I found the entire story very suspenseful and deliciously dark—sometimes a little too dark, for my tastes. Kate was a strong female character that made the narrative a pleasure to read. Goodkind’s action-writing is brilliant, although his dialogue and description sometimes felt a bit long-winded. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a suspenseful read—it may keep you up at night.
 
MY REVIEW (5 stars) - Theresa E.

I had no idea what to expect when I started reading this book. I have been a fan of Terry Goodkind since I read Wizard’s First Rule, and I was interested to see what one of his thrillers would be like. Only one word can describe it accurately: terrifying. I was drawn in by the suspense and confusion of the first chapter, the distance I felt from seeing the world through a mentally disabled person’s eyes. Even when the perspective changes, I still found myself biting my nails and jumping at a swaying branch outside my window.
 
The blood and gore surprised me even though I knew that was a part of the package when I picked up this book. Maybe it’s because it’s just so violent. Terry Goodkind knows how to make an impact and leave an image haunting your mind for hours, days, afterwards. It may be scary, but that is a mark of a good author.
 
My only critique is that some of the passages between terrifying moments seemed to drag. I understood most of it for suspense purposes, but there were definitely a couple of moments where I felt a conversation could have been cut short and I would have still felt the same amount of terror. There were just, at times, a bit too much explanation.
 
However, I saw that as a small problem that barely hindered my reading experience. Overall, a great read for someone who loves a good thrill.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 
Terry Goodkind is a #1 New York Times Bestselling Author and the creator of the most controversial new thriller of our lifetime. His work is often called "provocative", "courageously original", "terrifying", and even "dangerous".
​
More than anything; Terry Goodkind's books are character-driven stories that take a brutally honest inward look at ourselves. With a focus on the complexity of the human psyche, Terry Goodkind has an uncanny grasp for crafting compelling stories of people like you and me, trapped in terrifying situations.
​
As a resident of Nevada, Terry Goodkind deeply appreciates the rights and freedoms of the United States, although worries about how quickly those rights are eroding. His passion for writing is a parallel to his passion for life.

Terry Goodkind is a part-time race car driver, a devoted husband to Jeri, the love of his life, and a friend to animal-kind.
​
"My privilege in life is the joy of writing books and telling stories about people who fascinate me, the good and the bad. I am grateful to all of my readers for the critical role they play in making these books possible. Your passion is my passion, and I thank you." - Terry Goodkind
 
DISCLAIMER: 
I received a copy of this book for free in exchange for writing a review. I was not obligated to give a positive review, and all thoughts are my own.
 
https://smile.amazon.com/Nest-Terry-Goodkind/dp/1510722874/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1480965885&sr=1-1&keywords=nest+by+terry+goodkind 

​Memories
 
If one could store them
in the attic without stir
and turn to other things,
 
to picking fruit, perhaps,
or seeding it, one could afford
the dalliance of an hour
 
for one would have the years
one knows will not be those
whose paralytic youth has just begun,
 
the years whose summer plea
for laughter and for kiss
somersault the hair
 
and scimitar the smile: the years
the sun, the moon, the stars
can never order stop.
 
 
Donal Mahoney