Sonnet 26 - The Calling

 For Shelly Davis

 

Did your calling arrive like the ring of the bell

that summons the boxer to stand up and fight?

Or did a soft whisper persistently tell

you to urge your parishioners to do what is right?

 

When gunfire sprayed into innocent people,

or grave threats were made to our liberties,

did you call on bell ringers to come to the steeple

and send chimes of warning away on the breeze?

 

Did you sit with me in my hour of grief

when a storm of life caught me unawares?

Did I get a little bit of relief

When you gave me a little book of prayers?

 

In ways great and small we have truly been blessed,

for the answer to all of these questions is “yes”.

                                    June 22, 2025

Sonnet 25 - Giving it All

 

            

For Lynn Salmonsen

 

 

They say that anyone can learn to row,

and most anyone can learn to sing, and so,

with patience, practice, and the proper technique,

most anyone could be a rowing singer every week!

 

Given this, it’s easy to extrapolate

and create a lovely choir from a rowing eight.

Have a sweet soprano sitting in the center.

Add three altos, three basses, and one tenor.

 

Put in the stern a faithful music lover

who spurs the crew through each drive and recover,

to cross the finish line in victory,

singing a requiem in harmony, perfectly.

 

Those watching from the shore are moved to cheer,

                  While those who listen closely shed a tear.

 

 

 

                                      January 25, 2025

Sonnet 24 - Happiness Today

 

For Kris and Paul

 

The happiest day for a young man named Paul

(who to us here gathered would have to confess),

was the day he decided to ask Kris the tall

to go out on a date with him, and she said ‘yes’.

 

Yes to more happy days and to nights full of thrills,

and thus yes to a family that steadily increased,

with the addition of Erika, Kurt and Nils –

our generous hosts at this sumptuous feast.

 

Now over the course of many a year,

when they encountered a difficult day,

the support of their many friends from far and near,

and the love of their family wiped tears away.

 

So the happiness we share this evening depends

on a couple in love and a circle of friends.

 

                                                            Michael Maholchic

                                                            August 3, 2023

The Ballad of the Bed Bug

 

 

A cute little bed bug got picked up one day

By who knows who; anyhow she came to stay

She came with her buggy spouse straight from their wedding

To make buggy love all day long in our bedding.

And very soon after their sweet day of mirth,

The cute little bed bug quite proudly gave birth

To a litter of larvae, translucent and round,

Tucked into our mattress where they wouldn’t be found.

But we came to know, through our welts and our bleeding

That they joined in with us every night for their feeding.

Three bites; one for breakfast, for lunch, and for dinner

We each were a victim, they each were a winner.

That cute little bed bug, we determined to get her

And her brood using glue traps and a bug interceptor.

In each nook and cranny, we sprayed alcohol

then we moved our beds six inches off from the wall.

So fierce and intense was our bed buggy loathing

In fifty big plastic bags we threw our clothing

That cute little bed bug: we promised to fry her

By tossing our sheets half an hour in the dryer.

The Bug War machinery’s most vital cog

was the services of a bed bug sniffing dog.

Who for three hundred bucks found bugs, larva, and eggs

In the deepest unreachable mattress-y dregs 

With the dog, alcohol, plastic bags and dry heat

The cute little bed bug was vanquished complete.

Our beds were safe islands, the bugs were no more

Though sometimes our bed covers still touched the floor.

Then after five years, one chill night in September,

Sadly, we once again had to remember

The big bed bug battle about which I’ve written

for under our waistbands once more we were bitten. 

                                                                           October 6, 2020

LITTLE EXPLORER

Little explorer, what has he found?

A car in the driveway he circles around,

Checking to see whether it makes a sound.

He cries, “caw, caw, caw” as he pats it down. 

Little explorer, curious and bold,

He doesn’t always do what he’s told.

The world is all new to him -- he is not old.

He cries “awt, awt, awt” as he pats down the stove. 

Little explorer, for his age he’s tall.

He likes chasing big round things down the long hall.

He better be careful, or else he will fall!

He cries “ball, ball, ball” as they bounce off the wall.

Little explorer is done with his play.

 The sun has gone down, it’s the end of the day.

Snug in his cradle, out of the way,

He sings wordless songs for there’s no more to say.

Sonnet 23 - Rafting on the Colorado

For our guides 

 
Long lines of limestone lie on schist and granite
    like mute cathedrals looming from on high
This river opened up once Powell ran it;
    wise rafting guides now bring us safely by.
 
We admire the rocks that were uplifted
    and through the ages not quite worn away;
grateful for the beauty being gifted,
    briefly, to us on this sunny day.
 
A sacred turquoise river joins the flow
    as sworn to silence we step in the stream.
Small wrens sing us a sweet hymn while we go
    serenely floating as if in a dream.
 
Spiritual moments cloaked in splendor
    are moments that we always will remember. 

 

 

 

                             

Sonnet 22 - The Mentor’s Gift

For Marvin A. Gordon and Frank J. Giuliano, Jr.

What did our mentors leave behind for us?

If only we could ask them for advice!

The problems that we face are serious,

and call for action, more than thinking twice.

They were well-known in this community,

respected for their wisdom and their wealth,

respected for their generosity;

for they thought service mattered more than self.

They weren’t the sort to gladly suffer fools,

but they were good at making a decision.

New elder housing, a temple, and five schools

exist because of their constructive vision.

They left us, on this dark, cold, silent night,

their good example as a guiding light.