“Go! Go Fast! Hide Them!” – My Father’s Guns

About eight months ago, my granddaughter, Mara, was quite interested in family history and asked for more details. I said I would write but just couldn’t seem to do it.

Fast forward to two weeks ago and I go to a poetry reading–mostly new writers, talking about their lives, easy to understand and with no rhyming.

At the reception, I ask how they do it. “It just comes,” they say.  Hard for me to imagine.

Then one woman suggests I make it like I’m writing a letter to someone. I think of my granddaughter. The next morning I wake up thinking in poetry phrases about my father’s guns.  Later in the day it all came out, fully-formed.

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My father had three guns. Cold, hard revolvers all.
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“The Easter Bunny’s Problem” by Melanie McAleer

Eggs

Note:  Here’s a holiday poem published by my grandmother, Melanie McAleer, in the 1940’s–posted by her son, Joe.

The Easter Bunny’s Problem

Once a rabbit had a problem, and it wasn’t very funny,
You see he was the special, one and only Easter Bunny,
And he had a special duty to get up at break of day
On every Easter morning and give Easter Eggs away.

Something like old Santa, once his journey had begun,
Of the million little children, he never missed a one,
Yes, this was Bunny’s happy boast. ” I never missed a tot,
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