What Christmas Is All About

Anticipation begins and gradually kicks in,
While shopping days wane and disappear.
Excitement blends in and slowly transcends,
As traditions and good tidings reappear.

Children grow restless, as school days dwindle,
Their lists continue to grow.
Moms and Dads spend and find ways to rekindle,
The holiday spirit they know.

Houses are decorated inside and out,
Trees find new ways to glisten.
Mistletoe hangs and stories come out,
As eager ears strain to listen.

December days mount, while parents recount,
Fond memories of past gifts and toys.
Yuletide ghosts greet the heavenly host,
Through time spent together, love and joy.

These days it seems, not everyones' dreams,
Are packaged and adorned with bows.
Those without means go to extremes,
Just for food, shelter and warm clothes.

This winter's eve, try to conceive,
Of those with no gifts to give out.
Help children believe, to give's to receive,
It's what Christmas is all about.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
123109

Noel

This is an acrostic...


Two thousand ten years ago,
Heaven reached down to earth.
Everyone there would come to know,
Freedom through one single birth.
Irrespective of color or creed,
Rebirth was offered to all,
Serving witness were Shepherds and Kings,
Transfixed on a child in a stall.
Never before in man's history,
On that first Christmas eve.
Eternal life's solved mystery,
Lay free to those who believe.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

kooney001
123109

Happy Birthday Christina

Christina-Taylor Green was born September 11, 2001 and died January 8, 2011. This coming Sunday would have been her 10th birthday...

Happy birthday Christina,
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday Christina.
This poem's for you.
Happy birthday Christina.
It will soon be 10 years.
The day you were born.
All mankind shed tears.
Happy birthday Christina.
May the world celebrate.
Your life's bold beginning,
Was it irony or fate?

The day that you died.
Brought back repressed fears.
With each passing tide,
We wish you were here.
You were so innocent.
Like those that day.
God called you to heaven,
In a symbolic way.
Happy birthday Christina.
Are 10 candles enough?
To hallow the names,
Of those we all loved.
Rest now Christina.
As three thousand bells toll.
May your spirit be with us.
May God bless your soul.
Happy birthday Christina,
Pray your new life's serene.
We were blessed to have known you,
Christina-Taylor Green.

Forever soothe trepid dreams.



Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090711

Happy Birthday Christina

Christina-Taylor Green was born September 11, 2001 and died January 8, 2011. This coming Sunday would have been her 10th birthday...

Happy birthday Christina.
Soon it will be 10 years.
We all remember the day you were born.
It was the day the entire world mourned.
The day all mankind shed tears.

Happy birthday Christina.
I wish that you were still here.
The day you died the whole world cried.
You were just standing innocently by.
Your death brought back all our fears.

Happy birthday Christina.
May the whole world celebrate.
Three thousand souls' bells were tolled,
Before you were even one day old.
Was it irony or fate?

Happy birthday Christina.
10 candles just won't be enough.
To hallow with flames three thousand names,
Eternally shame those to blame.
Condemn those responsible caught.

Happy birthday Christina.
You died symbolically.
God called you to heaven in 2011,
The same year as Osama Bin Laden.
Before the 10th anniversary.

Christina-Taylor Green.

Happy birthday Christina,
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday Christina.
We were all blessed by you.
We still miss you, too.

This poem's for you.


Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090411

Atomic Picnic

Oh Mommy, Mommy, look at the cloud,
It's shaped like a big mushroom.
I've never heard fireworks quite so loud,
Will it be over soon?

Oh Darling, what a spot you found.
What a fantastic view.
Other families spread out all around,
All having a good time too.

Oh Mommy, Mommy, what's that smell?
Is something burning somewhere?
I think it's the sky, it's hard to tell,
Is it coming from over there?

Oh Darling, what a nice lunch you've made.
You're such a wonderful cook.
The weather's perfect, it's a beautiful day,
It's just like a storybook.

Oh Mommy, Mommy, did you feel the ground?
Was that a little earthquake?
Did the people in that little town,
Survive the rumble and shake?

Oh kids, don't worry, it's not over yet,
The fun's just begun.
This is something you'll never forget,
You and everyone.

Oh Darling, this day couldn't get any better,
But isn't it kind of ironic?
A picnic together you want to last forever,
Turns out to be atomic.


Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
090411

Men From Mars

Men from Mars can be found in bars,
In trench-coats and strange looking hats.
They drink alone,
Or with their own.
Avoid crowds and social contact.

Men from Mars drive plain looking cars,
Usually live by themselves.
They wear a disguise,
To hide their eyes.
Like turtles, retreat in their shells.

Men from Mars have hidden scars,
That others don't ever see.
They've been places,
Seen foreign faces.
Witnessed what would frighten you and me.

Men from Mars fill empty jars,
With collections of specimens and debris.
Bottled up samples,
Ill-gotten examples,
Recollections of past misery.

Men from Mars have fought in wars,
That other men cannot believe.
They survived,
Barely alive.
To be examined, probed and studied.

Men from Mars look to the stars,
For hope and a chance to be free.
The Martian landscape,
Provides an escape,
A place they'd much rather be.

Men from Mars, imagine they are.
Aliens and monstrosities.
Left behind,
Virtually blind,
Victims of man's atrocities.

Men from Mars have traveled far,
Crossed intergalactic seas.
Searching to find,
Signs left behind.
Penchants of what used to be.

Remnants of their own sanity.



Copyright © September 2011
Kevin Mooney




kmm001
090411

Itty-Bitty Persian Kitty

Itty-bitty Persian kitty,
You're so small, soft and pretty.
You sit and watch all you can.
Fit right in the palm of my hand,

Little Persian kitty cat,
Where the heck are you at?
You're always playing hide 'n seek,
Getting sillier week to week.

You're the cutest little kitten,
Feel just like a fuzzy mitten.
A fluffy, fuzzy ball of fur,
Always causing such a stir.

I love to watch you chase your ball,
When I roll it down the hall.
You use your paws to claw at things,
Fingers, toys and dangling strings.

You have a funny little mug,
It's scrunchy like a feline pug.
You barely weigh an ounce or two,
Pounce on everything that moves.

I'm not sure how big you'll get.
You'll never be the biggest pet.
I just pray you'll always stay,
Cute and cuddly and like to play.

My itty-bitty feline friend,
I'll love you dearly, thick or thin.
And when you've grown old and fat,
You'll still be my favorite cat.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082811

A Gunslinger's Last Request

To whom it may concern:

Bury my bones on 'Ole Boot Hill,
Down El Paso way.
I'm at the end of life's lonesome trail,
I'm saying goodbye today.

I've ridden many dusty roads,
I've killed a man or two.
The way I see it, I suppose,
My time's 'bout overdue.

I've outrun my share of lawman,
Escaped many a mess.
I've outdrawn lesser gunmen,
Was faster then all the rest.

I been lucky up to now,
Life's been good to me.
The time's come now to bid farewell,
I do so honorably.

Bury me up on 'Ole Boot Hill,
With my Colt 45.
Lay me in my spurs and heals,
Arms crossed, not at my side.

No need for tears, no need to pray,
Just a board or stone,
Not in too shallow a grave.
To rest my weary bones.

Bury me up on 'Ole Boot Hill,
Before my flesh decays.
As for any parting words,
Here's what they should say:

In this grave are 'Ole Pete's bones,
The fastest gun these parts have known.
Spent most his life on the run.
He finally met a faster gun.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082511

Frankly Scarlett

Consummate tale of selfish pride,
Illustrious conflict between two sides.
Vivien brought Scarlett O'Hara to life,
Insane jealousy caused Melanie strife.
Lusted for Ashley Wilkes real bad.

Wanted things she could not have.
Architectural plantation gems,
Ravaged by General Sherman's men.

Emancipation yet proclaimed,
Reconstruction's post-war pain.
Atlanta's heart set afire,

Confederates lost that burning desire.
Laden with coquettish scorn,
Aristocratic southern charm.
Scarlett fought for Tara's sake,
Shunned advances Butler would make.
Iconic Gable, Leigh embrace,
Catatonic Scarlett face.

Frankly Rhett didn't give a damn,
In the end, proved the better man.
Left Scarlett to fend another day,
Made "Fiddle Dee Dee" quote cliche.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082411

All That In 100 Years...

Here's a list for consideration.
Familiar to our generation.
Thoughts, ideas and inspirations.
Events that influenced our nation.
A cavalcade of imagination,
100 years of innovation,

Ferris Wheels,
Automobiles.
Newsreels.
Frozen Meals,
Airplanes,
High Speed Trains,
Restaurant Chains,
Acid rains
Radios,
Picture shows,
TV shows,
Videos.
World Wars
Chain stores.
Price wars
Nuclear cores,
Elevators,
Escalators,
Percolators,
Calculators.
IBM's
M&M's,
Internet,
Ethernet,
TVs
PCs.
CD's
DVDs.
Ice Cream Cones,
Telephones,
Styrofoam,
Cell Phones.
Electric scooters.
Computers,
Rocket ships,
Space trips.
Cruise Ships,
Radar blips,
Microwaves,
Cellophane.
Traffic lanes,
Modern cranes,
Youtube,
Jiffy Lube,
Elmer's Glue,
Rubik's Cube,
Post-it notes,
Umbrella totes,
Speed boats,
Women's votes.
Movie Screens,
Trampolines,
Gasoline,
Listerine,
Football,
Carnegie Hall,
Dirigibles,
Remote Control,
Rock 'n Roll,
Rap and Soul.
Crayons,
Digital Songs.

Think about what's appeared,
In the last 100 years.
I'm sure that there's a whole lot more,
You never thought about before.
I wonder what the list will be,
In the next century.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
082011

The Man Of A Thousand Voices

Thank you Mel for giving us,
A thousand fond memories.
You were so many voices,
On all our early TVs.

Mr. Spacely from The Jetsons,
Barney Rubble to name a few.
Captain Caveman, Heathcliff, Tom Cat,
Woody Woodpecker, too.

Of all the toons that you crooned,
The one's we most adored.
Were all those famous LooneyToons,
We watched on Saturday morn.

Shhh...Be Berwy, Berwy Quiet,
The name is Elma Fudd
I'm auways hunting Wabbits.
Be quiet if you could.

Therwe pesky wittle queatures,
But one espeshewy.
Dat 'ole Bugs Bunny Wabbit,
Is berwy rascawy,

Munchin' on his cawots,
Aweways wants to pway.
Evwy time I twy to shoot him,
He seems to swip away.

I know I'w get him dis time,
Just you wait a see.
Shhh...Be Berwy Quiet,
Wabbits are my speshwulty.

Well sufffferin, succatash,
As Sylvester cat would say,
He's always prowlin somewhere,
Beneath Tweety Bird's cage.

Tweety on the other hand,
Likes to talk and swing.
He never seems too concerned,
Loves everyone and thing.

God bless Tweety's Granny,
With her trusted broom.
It helps and comes in handy,
When Sylvester's in the room.

Mee Meep, there goes The Road Runner,
With the coyote after him,
It's old Wiley Coyote,
And another Acme mayhem.

Speedy Gonzales, amazed all of us,
With his bursts and grace.
I always wondered who would win,
If he and Road Runner raced.

Fog Horn Leg Horn, that big blow hard,
Sounded like W.C. Fields.
You'd think a rooster ruling a barnyard.
Was such a great big deal.

Daffy Duck seemed out of luck,
With Bugs Bunny around.
If not for Bugs, Daffy might wear,
The WB Cartoon crown.

Yosemite Sam was a wanted man,
With mustache, guns and hat.
He never caught that dang varment,
Ended up on truck mud flaps.

Now Porky Pig, you gotta love him,
He's my favorite Loon.
I love the classic way he ends,
Each LooneyTune cartoon.

Bda, bda, bda,..that's all Folks.

Thanks Mr. Blanc.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
081511

Side By Side, Together

I often lay and watch you breath,
Ever so gently, while you sleep.
I think about,
The life we've had,
The love we've shared,
How far we've come, together.

As I lay and watch you,
I thank God you're my wife.
I then recount,
The day we met,
And can't forget,
How you've changed my life, forever.

When I lay there with you,
Tears well in my eyes.
I never dreamed,
Life could be,
So worry free,
Wonderful and fun, together.

As we lay side by side,
I think of you with humble pride.
I'm so glad that I'm alive.
To have you to always confide.
I thank God that you're my bride.
It's been a very special ride, together.

As I lay next to you,
Life just seems so right.
The future looks so bright.
Our boys have grown,
They'll soon leave home,
Once again we'll be alone,

To live out life on our own, together.



Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080411

Seal Team Six Solstice Psalm

Aug 6, 2011, KABUL, Afghanistan (AP) — 30 American service members — 22 of them elite Navy SEALs — died Saturday when their Chinook helicopter was shot down about 60 miles southwest of Kabul...

This is dedicated to those that died. This is an acrostic...

Coalition US led,
Operation, 30 dead.
Political patriotic pawns,
Typical post Islamic palm.
Every parents' worst nightmare,
Reprehensive cursed warfare.
Did they die needlessly?
Obama please, can't you see.
Will you end the suffering?
Now's the time, don't you agree?

Osama drama still at hand,
Segregate the Kali-ban.
American special service plan,
Militia's sacrificial lamb.
Anti-aircraft missile toll,
Single shot south of Kabul.
Rest in peace young sacred sons,
Eternal sleep's the prize you won.
Vindication now in hand?
Evacuate Afghanistan.
Navy Seal Team Six's song,
Gallantry, right or wrong.
Elite soldier's solstice psalm.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080811

Ever Wonder?

Ever wonder where you'll be,
When the time has come?
What you'd hear, what you'd see,
When your time is done?

What if you met God today?
Would you know what to say?
Do you think you'd know his face?
Would he seem out of place?

What if Jesus passed you by,
On the street? If he said hi?
Do you think you'd know it was him?
Short, heavy, tall or thin?

Do you think he'd say hello?
Extend his hand, chat then go?
What do you suppose he'd think of this place?
Would he be proud or disgraced?

Would you even recognize,
The sad, pained look in his eyes?
Do you think you would see,
If the future is to be?

One thing's certain, He'll come one day.
He'll walk among us in a normal way.
He'll probably be like you or I.
Blend right in, a regular guy.

He'll see how we have come to be,
A self-absorbed society.
Concerned mostly for ourselves,
With little regard for anyone else.

I'm sure he'll bow his head in shame.
Find himself the one to blame.
He'll recognize those good things.
Acknowledge pain and suffering.

And when it's finally time to leave,
He'll take with him those who believe.
Those who've prospered at others' expense,
Will cower at his omnipotence.

In the end, come judgement time,
It's in the heart that most men find,
The humility, truth, faith and love.
That comes from trust in God above.

Ever wonder where you'll be?
When that time does come?
Ever wonder if you'll be,
Among God's chosen ones?


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080411

De Captain

Oh Derek, De Captain, what a legacy you'll leave;
You've been a force, a mighty work horse, since you entered the league.
As the end draws near to your storied career, one that's now in year 16.
Relish the milestones you've achieved, and glorious cheers you've received.
Oh Derek, Our Captain, it's hard to believe,
It's been this long, oh how could it be.
One day the world will look back and agree,
It was how you played the game.

Oh Derek, De Captain, you've earned your degree;
You've lived a life of luxury, royalty, what you yearned to be.
You're now the who many long to be, a prodigy, a pedigree.
Some may call it destiny, that you're a New York Yankee.
Oh Derek, Our Captain, you're many a fave,
Fans will recount the years you played,
No one will question what you gave,
Your dedication, passion or name.

Oh Derek, Oh Captain, this may or may not be it.
Take a few moments and sit. Relax and enjoy it a bit.
No one will question your intensity, passion, emotion or grit.
What fans may remember most, is your historic three thousandth hit.
Oh Derek, Oh Captain, how can it be?
There's never be another in your company.
You're now in the exclusive club of three.
The very first New York Yankee.

Oh Derek, Team Captain, careful, don't bend;
You're the team leader, comrade and friend. Keep on pushing as hard as you can.
Baseball's been played since most don't know when. Careers eventually end.
Nobody plays the game forever, but in spirit, legacies can.
Oh Derek, Oh Captain, keep living your dream.
Future generations will remember your name.
You've made your mark in America's game.
You're destined for The Hall of Fame.


Copyright © August 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
080311

Somber Moments

Tempered times help define,
Who we really are.
Somber moments collect in time,
Like pennies in a jar.

Hypnotic scenes within dreams,
Haunt unsuspecting minds.
Thoughts that run undeterred,
Leave painful scars behind.

Tear stained eyes, emphasize,
The pains that we all share.
Together we then realize,
How much we truly care.

When all is said, look ahead,
Let God lead the way.
Let somber moments' weight be shed,
In light of a brand new day.


Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
072311

Christopher Colin Sinclair

No one ever had the flair of Christopher Sinclair.
He was quite debonair,
Had a certain savoir-faire,
A thirty-something millionaire,
He turned heads everywhere
Did Christopher Colin Sinclair.

No, nobody quite compared to Christopher Sinclair.
He took pride in others' stares.
Had the most perfect hair,
Shoulders strong, perfectly square,
The man stood out anywhere,
Did Christopher Colin Sinclair.

He had no time for others' affairs,
Nor did he pretend to care.
Though always well aware,
He was crass and insincere,
Good fortune had was never shared,
By Christopher Colin Sinclair.

But all was not as it appeared, for Mr. Chris Sinclair.
A second life was revealed,
A pedophile charge concealed.
A past offense proved unreal.
A sentence passed, turned on appeal.
Soon everybody knew the real, Christopher Colin Sinclair.

The once good name now was smeared, of Christopher Sinclair.
People whispered, sneered and leered,
Private gawk soon turned to jeers,
His fame and fortune disappeared.
No, no one dared venture near,
This vile man loathed and feared.

As time went by, no one cared, for the sinister Sinclair.
His face now drew disgusted stares.
To see him publicly grew rare.
His was now an empty chair,
He might as well have not been there,
The perverted Mister Sinclair.

The papers read he died in bed,
Alone, distraught the article said.
A wealthy man, one well bred,
Shot himself in the head.
A single shot that barely bled,
Left Christopher Sinclair dead.

When people heard they did not care.
His funeral had no one there.
No eulogy, no thoughts or prayers.
It seemed a shame, somewhat unfair,
That no one shed a single tear.
For Christopher Colin Sinclair.



Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
072311

A Unique Eulogy

To all those gathered here...

Please don't mourn for me this day,
Celebrate instead.
Remember all the good times had,
All the things we did.

As I gaze upon the faces,
Of those I won't forget.
I thank God for all His grace,
I have no true regrets.

To all the friends that I hold dear,
Your thoughts now comfort me.
There's no need to shed a tear,
For I've lived life fully.

To my children and to theirs,
I cherish the memories.
I live in you, I'll be there,
To guide you in your dreams.

To my beloved, my one true love,
The one I'll miss the most.
Please be strong for both of us,
Know I'm always close.

Without you by my side,
I'd be an empty frame.
You're my rock, my everything,
I know you feel the same.

Live your life joyfully,
We'll soon reunite.
And be together eternally,
In God's majestic light.


Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
071511

Bathed In Innocense

A newborn child's fingertips,
It's teeny, tiny toes.
Innocent eyes, warm pink lips,
Perfect ears and nose.

The fluffy down of a baby chick.
The march of a mother duck.
A teetering foal's first full kick,
A baby calf's first suck.

The whisper of a heartfelt hymn,
That tingle that you get.
The rising of a new day's sun,
It's final evening set.

The whistle of a distant train.
The coming of a storm.
The quench of an overdue rain,
The quiet of the morn.

Special moments that we feel,
Those we share and sense.
An experience uniquely real,
Bathed in innocence.


Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
070411

God Bless Our America

Founded for the future,
Of generations to come.
A nation built on freedom,
A place for everyone.

The vision of our ancestors,
Conceived in hopes and dreams.
Born through shear resistance,
Amid heroic means.

Built on truth and justice,
And our forefathers' blood.
Empowered by resilience,
Braced by faith in God.

The shackles of oppression,
Shed courageously.
Brought freedom through aggression,
Forged patriotically.

Tall stands Lady Liberty,
High above the rest.
Welcoming the weary,
Beleaguered and oppressed.

Land so vast and plentiful,
Stretched from sea to sea.
So fertile and so beautiful,
A shroud of sanctity.

Take pride as an American,
In everything you do.
God Bless Our America.
The red, white and blue.


Copyright © July 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
070411

Fallen Fathers, Forgotten Sons

As dawn breaks,
The heavens wake,
To earth's new tapestry.

The seeds we've sewn,
The men we've known,
Lie still, prone reverently.

Spirits of those,
That history knows,
Pride buried nationwide.

Our forefather's ghosts,
Our heavenly hosts,
Line meadows and countrysides.

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Fought for you and for me.
Those that died,
Gave their lives,
For honor and liberty.

Fields now lay,
In groomed decay,
Fertilized with the dead.

Lined with stones,
Eternal homes,
Soil hallowed and bravely fed.

Gravestones reveal,
What loved ones feel,
The sacrifices made,

Those won and lost,
The heartfelt costs.
The ultimate prices paid,

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten sons,
Died with dignity.
Their families cried,
For their unselfish pride,
Their heroic bravery.

For their family,
For their country,
For Generals, Gods and Kings.

Buried deep,
They quietly sleep,
As Angels silently sing.

Some remembered,
Some forgotten,
Some ashes in the wind.

They fought for freedom,
They fought for justice,
Fought so we all could win.

Fallen Fathers,
Forgotten daughters,
Live forever in our hearts and minds.
Our tranquility,
And prosperity,
Are their legacies left behind.

Let's honor those,
Fallen heroes,
Those before us that died.

Bow heads in prayer,
Then silently share,
Our blessings from deep inside.

The men and women,
The sons and daughters,
The husbands and the wives.

Those that suffered,
Died for others.
That so valiantly gave their lives.

Fallen Fathers,
Unforgotten ones,
You are our nation's pride.
Let children sing,
And church bells ring,
Fly Good 'Ole Glory high.

So live forever,
Know things are better,
That your souls are sanctified.

Never fear,
We are always here,
To lay flowers by your side.

Your work is complete,
Now comfortably sleep,
You're remembered through tear stained eyes.

Let Father's who've fallen,
Never be forgotten.
Let their memories be memorialized.

Copyright © May 2010

Kevin Mooney

kmm001

053110

This Man That I Once Knew

This man gave me comfort,
This man gave me life.
This man made me who I am,
Taught me wrong from right.

This man gave me shelter,
Provided clothes and food.
Nurtured me with confidence,
Showed me what to do.

This man gave me values,
Prepared me to survive.
If it were not for this man,
I may not be alive.

This man was my father,
My mentor and best friend.
My soul mate and my confidant,
My comrade, my Godsend.

He's no longer with me,
Standing by my side.
He loved me unconditionally,
Up to the day he died.

Now his spirit guides me,
In everything I do.
He lives deep down inside me,
In both my two sons, too.

This man that I once knew.


Copyright © June 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
061811

Impenetrable Calm

An oppressively hot day, sadistically long,
Accentuated by an impenetrable calm.
Temperature's rising, humidity's thick,
It compromises a thermometer stick.
Air pressure's soaring, no real relief,
Sweat keeps pouring beyond belief.
Cumulus clouds gather up high,
Thunderheads start to multiply
A black horizon far from norm,
Ushers an approaching storm.
Wind, hail and sheets of rain,
The exhale of a coming train.
A cylindrical cloud appears,
Cone-shaped gyro-sphere,
It drops down from above,
Sucks up all that we love.
Lives swept side to side,
In its vortex none survive.
A burst of sudden chaos.
The worst all that's lost.
Immeasurable, intense,
Lifetime consequence.
In an instant its done,
Lifetime gone in one.
Survivors rise to see.
A leftover tragedy.
Here one minute,
Gone the next.
Never sure
What to
Expect
In the
End.



Copyright © June 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
061511

They Just Called Her Liz

 
This is an acrostic...

Lass and Roddy's Velvet prize,
Adolescent adored.
Star with striking violet eyes,
Took MGM by storm.
Hollywood Little Woman,
Older men's delight.
Luscious and voluptuous,
Lady of a Knight.
Yesteryear Fischer goddess,
Warner's chosen one.
Oscar's 2-time winning actress,
Owned own place in the sun.
Diva before Divas were known,
Insatiable at best.
Cleopatra celluloid clone
Original Wolf-ess.
Noted as The Best.


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051511

Poor Miss Cynthia Weir

Miss Cynthia Weir wore her hair rolled up in a bun.
She was slight, unsociable, avoided everyone.
Her glasses were unusual, the cat-like pointed kind.
She looked like a librarian or someone almost blind.

Most folks never noticed her, she was plain you see.
She wore average looking clothes, dressed somewhat modestly.
She liked shoes and large handbags that never seemed to match.
No Cynthia, most would say, was not much of a catch.

One day Miss Cynthia Weir did not come to work.
She did not call anyone or even leave a word.
Her co-workers called several times but never got a reply.
They finally called the authorities when several days went by.

When they went to Cynthia's house, Cynthia wasn't found.
Her neighbors said she lived alone and hadn't been around.
Her car was parked just outside, locked and full of gas.
Had Cynthia even been inside was the question asked.

No one had seen or heard from her. No one seemed to care.
It was like Miss Cynthia had vanished into thin air.
She had no friends or family to contact anywhere.
Yes, my friends there was just no more Miss Cynthia Weir.

They checked hospitals, checked the morgue, even checked the jail.
They went through her belongings, phone records and mail.
The authorities looked high and low but it was to no avail.
After several months went by her house went up for sale.

No one ever found her. Perhaps they never will.
A year's gone by and still no sign. It all seems so surreal.
Most folks have forgotten her and when she disappeared.
But I can't help but remember, poor Miss Cynthia Weir.


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051511

Oh So Many, Oh So Few

No one really knew her or what she claimed to be,
A queen of propaganda, virgin of the sea.
Those that dared to ride her,
Now lay down beside her,
Haunting those survivors,
Of her maiden odyssey.

Born to bear the brunt of praise and pageantry,
Hers was but a stunt in superfluity.
Though her name belied her,
No one dared deny her,
Fame could not disguise her
Sunken vanity.

Fifteen hundred souls lie lost beneath the sea.
Each a cold reminder how fragile life can be.
Unsinkable they said,
Unthinkable the dead,
Arrogance and tears shed,
For posterity.

Generations will reflect on her tragedy.
Honor and pay respect to all her misery.
Soberly they'll try,
Ask and question why,
So many souls had to die,
And so few live to see.

May you all RIP...


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051511

A Singular Grain of Sand

Strangers from a far off land.
Each a part of God's own plan.
Survive each week the best they can,
While they seek to understand.

Reaching for an empty jar,
Never knowing who you are.
Every soul's a twinkling star,
Some are near, others far.

A beach can be a funny place.
To beseech the human race.
Each divides lands and seas,
Parallel realities.

Give yourself a helping hand,
Listen to a silent band.
Be your own biggest fan,
A singular grain of sand.


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051411

Dinner Table Jib Jab

Okay now let's say grace.

Thank you Father for this meal,
And all else you provide.
We would not have anything,
Without you by our side.

May this food give nourishment,
To our bodies and our souls.
Bless us with encouragement,
Through us your truth be told.

Amen.

Now please pass the peas,
Do tell how was school?
Mashed potatoes, stewed tomatoes,
The weather's kind of cool.

Father how was work today?
Who needs buttered bread?
How was traffic, by the way?
Want biscuits instead?

Mary had piano lessons,
Honey, how'd it go?
More milk or water anyone?
When's your next school show?

Oh Darling did you see the news?
That actor was found dead.
No drugs involved, no alcohol,
Stroke is what they said.

Father can I borrow the car?
Friday I have a date.
I promise not to take it far,
And not be out too late.

Mother the house sure looks great.
You worked hard today.
What a great meal you've made,
Oh, and by the way,

Grandma called to speak with you,
I wrote the message down.
Seems Uncle Bob and Aunt June,
Are going to be in town.

Can I have some more meatloaf,
And some gravy please?
The mashed potatoes get my vote.
I like mine with peas.

Save some room for dessert,
I made a pecan pie.
I also have cool fresh fruit,
Give them both a try.

When everyone's meal is done,
The women will clean up?
After that we'll have some fun,
Save your coffee cup.

Then lets all gather 'round,
For some songs and games.
There's been enough jib jab now,
Its been a wonderful day.


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051411

Weeping Willow Trees

Sweeping, weeping willow trees,
Wis-ping in the breeze.
Waving wind whipped angel wings,
Wanting to be seen.

Swinging, swaying silhouettes,
Swishing sensually.
Dancing, prancing marionettes,
Each its own trapeze.
Swirling, wind swept,
Synchronicity.
Twirling, unkept,
Perfect harmony.
Silently, subtly,
Strutting to a fro.
Quietly, suddenly,
Putting on a show.

Sleeping, weeping willow trees,
Lazing listlessly
Quivering, withering,
Laying limp at ease.

Whispering willow trees,
Waiting patiently.
Wistfully, whimsically,
Wishing to be free.

Wilting weeping willow trees,
Weary, in dismay.
Will all the weeping willow trees,
One day wilt away?

Wake up weeping willow trees,
Watch and you will see.
The world one day will look your way,
Sympathetically.


Copyright © May 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
051311

No Greater Love

 This poem is written to the wonderful accompanying painting by my friend Paul McGehee called "Faithful Companion".  Be sure to check out all of Paul's art.  He is  a very talented local artist...

There's no love like a dog's,
When you're feeling blue.
It wags its tail, licks your hand,
Then cuddles close to you.

It never has a motive,
Mopes or just complains.
Its love is unconditional,
Loyalty remains.

A dog's love is pure love,
Precious, sure and true.
It can tell and understands,
When somethings bothering you.

They never have resentment,
Balk or show dismay.
Their sole source of contentment,
Is attention and want of play.

They never have an objection.
Never hold a grudge.
They vie for your affection.
With a bark or cold nose nudge.

They love you just the way you are,
Stay right by your side.
They treat you like a movie star,
Without a reason why.

And when their time has finally come,
They don't raise a peep.
They wag their tail, look at you,
Then quietly go to sleep.


Copyright © March 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
033011

Paper Pawns

Silhouettes of wind torn branches
Painted against the sky.
Greyness blends into blue,
As winter wanes goodbye.
Light lingers ever longer,
With each passing day.
Bitter cold memories,
Gently melt away.
Paper pawns sway to and fro,
Teetering side to side.
Questioning where to go,
No place to dwell or hide.
As Mother Nature silently,
Ambles on her way.
Another season passes by,
Quietly tucked away.
Like a feather in the wind,
Helplessly blown awry.
A soul succumbs to destiny,
Despite how hard the try.
Life's a mystic labyrinth,
Fate the final straw.
As paper pawns we are meant,
To wither one and all.


Copyright © March 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
033011

Two Perfect Chips of Stone

This poem is dedicated to my sons Josh and Jake...

Thank You Lord, You blessed me with,
Two perfect chips of stone.
A pair of sons I never guessed,
I'd ever call my own.
It feels good, I must confess,
To see how nice they've grown.
It brings to mind the joys I missed,
The times I was alone.

I wish my folks had lived to see,
How perfect they've become.
They're different yet much the same,
Adored by everyone.
As children they were challenging,
Please don't get me wrong.
But they've become nice young men,
Found where they belong.

I suppose one can't foresee,
How bless-ed life can be.
In retrospect one can object,
To pain and misery.
As I reflect, I don't regret,
Decisions that I've known.
Lord I praise You helped me raise,
Two perfect chips of stone.


Copyright © March 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
033011

Excitement of a Touch

Reflections of young innocence hidden in the mind,
Recollections, time well spent, memories left behind.
Connections form a labyrinth of feelings unrefined.
Learning from relationships, facing uphill climbs,
Discerning all the joys and slips, retracing steps in time.
Yearning for acceptance, embracing every sign.
Reaffirming countenance, moving forward blind.
Sensual sensations soon start to unwind,
Revealing hidden frailties, temptations long confined.
Reaching toward its virile force, finding peace of mind,
Feeling for its surreal source, that one and only kind.
Tingling from that sense you feel, pleasures intertwined.
Knowing that with confidence true treasures you will find.
Appealing expressed consciousness, temperatures soon climb.
Reeling from fluxed willingness, conjectures swoon sublime.
Realizing penned up passions, enticement's mental clutch,
Consensual inner spasms, the excitement of a touch.


Copyright © January 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
011511

The Solitude of Bronze

Sentimental moments,
Suspended still in time.
Solidified atonements,
Frozen, rain or shine.
Standing straight forever,
Seated sovereign-ly.
Hands held together,
In immortality.
Etched in perpetuity,
Solid chiseled stone.
Marbleised congruity,
Stoically alone.
Visages born of man,
Embraced exquisitedly,
Petrified grains of sand,
Encased eternally,
Defiantly reclusive,
Silent in response.
Heroically induced in,
The solitude of bronze.


Copyright © January 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
011511

With All That's Happening

The sun came up, a child was born
It was a beautiful thing.
He was proclaimed a King.

Some heard an Angel sing.

No one knew, to the world,
What that child would mean.
The hope his life would bring.

As a man he would demand,
A change in society.
Race equality.

A place where freedom rings.

On April 4th in '68, at 6:01 p.m.
A shot changed everything.
A single bullet bore through him,
And martyrdom did bring.

To Martin Luther King.

The sun came up, a child was born,
It was a wonderful thing.
Some heard Angels sing.

Christina Taylor Greene.

No one knew the day before,
What that day would bring..
Twin towers fell in a fiery hell,
A nation lay dying.

Lord what was happening?

Amid the strife, a single life,
Helped to ease some pain.
No one knew that her life,
Would break our hearts again.

It was just a matter of when.

The sun came up that Saturday morn,
It was a trivial thing.
As normal as can be.

Amid good weather, folks came together,
For a social gathering,
A political happening.

All knew well, Ms Gabrielle,
And showed support for her.
Not knowing what would occur.

Except Jared Lee Loughner.

Amid pained shouts, shots rang out,
Innocent people died.
With loved ones by their side.

Those that watched just cried.

Among the dead, Christina bled,
Another martyr born.
The target of his scorn?

An entire nation mourned.

In the aftermath, people have,
Tried to reason why.
Christina had to die.

So many innocent lives.

In days gone by, birds have died,
Fish in multitudes.
Floods have ravaged Australia,
Volcanoes erupted too.

Is the whole world coming unglued?

With all that's happening should man be grappling,
With what his future holds?
Did Martin die for you and I?
Was the rapture put on hold?
Was a September 11th child's tragic death,
A sign of things to come?
Is what's happening around the world,
A message for everyone?

Has the end begun?


Copyright © January 2011
Kevin Mooney

kmm001
120410