Robert Donohue – Sparks of Calliope

Lundy’s Undies

Mom worked for Lundy’s, and the firm’s design
Was for the diapers used in outer space.
More of a pouch, this needed interface
The engineers committed to refine.
But Mom worked personnel, and as a sign
Of what she was supposed to take with grace,
When Mom got married, so she knew her place,
It was expected that she would resign.

Despite this treatment, Mom was full of pride,
And thought her work important as the rest.
The astronauts had nothing left to hide
When putting Lundy’s product to the test,
And voyaging where none before could dare,
Because of Mom, they had clean underwear.

Search Engine

Back in the early Nineties, just before
The internet, if what you needed was
A book that happened to be out of print
These are the steps you followed; you would see
Your local antiquarian book dealer,
Fill out a card, and when your dealer had
Collected cards from other customers,
Then he or she would purchase a want ad
In AB Bookman’s Weekly. Other dealers
Who had the book in stock then mailed in quotes,
Your dealer would present these quotes to you
For your discission, and inevitably,
In all these quotes, you always got one from
Jeff Bezos, with his warehouse of old books.

Robert Donohue‘s poetry has appeared in Pulsebeat, The Road Not Taken, and The Rye Whiskey Review, among others. He lives on Long Island, NY.

2023 Best of the Net Nominee

2024 Pushcart Prize Nominee

Pegasus

One evening in the dining room I saw
Dad sketch a horse upon a legal pad,
I will assume this was the time he had
Enrolled in school to study labor law.
He drew a thoroughbred without a flaw
And here I thought all art was for the mad,
But also thought none saner than my dad,
I didn’t even know that he could draw.

I don’t believe he ever drew again,
Perhaps it was his way of showing us
A horse is just a horse, not Pegasus
And plainness was the subject of his pen.
I think he would believe a horse with wings
Might be unsuited for more earthly things.

Categorical

I had a friend whose grandmother would hoard
Sears’ catalogues, and meeting her she’d ask
When you were born, then making it her task
You got one from your birth. These volumes stored
More than a taste for which the world was bored
And like a wine drawn from a moldy cask
Within your vintage you could freely bask
In being young, and when you were adored.

By thinking of the Nineteen Seventies,
Those plaids and knits, and those high-waisted pants,
I think of time no changing now supplants
And at the end of life’s declivities
I’ll fall (foretold as much, so I discern)
Onto shag carpet, laid for my return.

Robert Donohue has published his poems in journals such as: Amethyst Review, Better Than Starbucks, The Ekphrastic Review, and FreezeRay Poetry, among others. He lives on Long Island, NY.

Tag: Robert Donohue

Two Poems by Robert Donohue