Monday, July 24, 2017


cicadas chorus in waves, soft, 
then loud then louder still
cho-weet, cho-weet, CHO-WEET
then soft, then softer still then 
quiet until the next round

the neighbors' elegant detritus
fills the parkway since the deluge
the YOOGE inundation, their new digs
drowned by rain penetration in the 
summer of Trump, sideshow

for the yahoos and greed mongers
oh, yes, we deserve his worst
as the soft yellow-green
fireflies, the females, settle
in the grass awaiting copulation

after which they devour the mate
or so i read, incorrectly i hope,
nature red in tooth and claw
as alfred the lord tennyson had it
when his young friend died young

death is in the air one way 
and another - my wife's demented
mother delusionally says her dead
husband is alive but missing
then she reverses herself and says

it's all made up, she was just fooling
and apologizes deeply until 2 minutes
later when she says it all again, then 
again, then again, almost cicada-like: 
oh, yeah, my beloved clancy is dead

copyright © 2017 by patrick o'hayer

Thursday, July 13, 2017


even true love
encounters bumps

here and there
broken promises

pet peeves

unmet demands

even so, even so
true love persists


some promises
are kept, some loving

and then the 
grand surprises

copyright © 2017 by patrick o’hayer