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.

Sonnet 21 - A Wedding Wish

       For Jennie and Chris

 

   The sun sets over fairway, tree, and green.

   It flings the day’s last rays, which land by chance

   on a young couple pausing in between

   the happy quick-step at a wedding dance.

   And in that moment they look unafraid,

   with shining eyes and smiles that light each face.

   Both have just heard a wedding promise made,

   and both know soon their own vows will take place.

   But quick steps now can lead to lengthy hikes,

   with thirst that grows beneath the constant sun.

   Grooms water greens before hot weather strikes;

   and love that’s tended lasts for the long run.

   So tend to one another, give and forgive,

   and your love will sustain you as long as you live.

 

Prayers

For the conclusion of the 2020 Stewardship Drive at East Congregational Church of Milton, Mass.

With thanks to Anne Lamott

The times they were painful, and frightening. We felt

as thousands fell ill, and then passed away,

that although church was closed, we still needed to pray

for this quiet and shuttered up world.  Help.

In long-ago times people would wonder how

all through a pandemic we still had been able

to hear the Lord’s word and break bread at God’s table,

joined in from near and from far. With Zoom.  Wow.

Now through this past month we have joined in the ranks

of the saints who gave of their own free will

to relieve the needy, and replenish God’s till,

and our prayers went from Help, to Wow, to Thanks.

Sonnet 20 - Let Us Now Give All Those Good Teachers Praise

For Mary C. Gormley

Let us now give all those good teachers praise

who challenged us as children to work harder,

and be productive citizens today

inspired by their passion and their ardor.

Let’s also praise the counselors and leaders,

who worked through summer, winter, spring and fall;

those dedicated, principled believers

in education being free for all.

And praise the voters and the volunteers

on whose support our schools have been dependent;

the same support that’s proven through the years

that this town trusts its school superintendent.

Now since our public schools are so well run,

this public must say “Thank you” and “Well done!”

Goodbye

In Memory of Bob Maholchic

Along the highway blossoms flower
while the sun, like a beneficent power,
shines on gardens, yards and fields,
promising someday fruitful yields.

There’re flowers printed on your dress
and on my tie, though I confess,
this sunny morning my mood clashes
with our surroundings. We bear the ashes
of an uncle we loved and respected
who sired, nurtured, and protected
a family when in his prime,
and in the winding course of time,
when first our aunt passed, then our father,
he cared the same way for our mother.

You could put upon his epitaph,
“He was slow to anger and quick to laugh”.
He was even-tempered but hated to lose,
he loved reading the paper and knowing the news.
A stalwart citizen of our nation,
one of its greatest generation,
he gave certainty in a world of doubt,
and he always paid when we ate out.

Now at this graveyard, we the living
recall his garden and him giving
food away that he had grown.
No one would have ever known
on his last day that he was ailing.
At ninety-four, his heart was failing.

So, by these graves this sun-splashed day
let’s bend down to the earth to say
goodbye to one with one last kiss,
whose sunny nature we will miss.

Sonnet 19 - There Comes a Time

For Jennie, Christmas 2018

There comes a time in the life of a car
when systems malfunction and trouble lights glow;
when it's dark and it's cold and you have to go far
over slippery roads through the ice and the snow.

Once you peel your white knuckles off of the wheel,
you find on the Internet just what to buy --
a practical all-wheel drive automobile
that can comfortably hold both you and your guy.

But suddenly fate knocks you flat on your ass
just when you thought things were going so well;
antler and fur, mixed in with steel and glass,
yield a total loss up, with a new car smell.

A strong woman finds the exact car that she seeks,
then buys the same car again in just two weeks.

Sonnet 18 - You Go Beat a Stick

For Betsy

You go beat a stick of softened butter
and sprinkle grains of pure white sugar on it,
while I think of a few sweet words to utter
and fit them into phrases for a sonnet.

Then go and add two eggs, one at a time,
so flour and the sweetened grease adhere,
while I think of a couple words that rhyme,
so lines from out of memory’s web appear.

But we’ll forget, and no one will recall
this poem or the things it meant to say.
It will prove to be as ephemeral
as birthday cake that’s eaten in a day.

That’s why our days of happy marriage take
A constant flow of poetry and cake.

Sonnet 17 -- The Effort

For Suzy, after buying a new house in Medford.

The effort that’s required to buy a house

is daunting -- first amass a pile of cash,

a bank loan, and the buy-in from your spouse,

then if the market’s tight, go madly dash

to open houses everywhere in town,

ignoring the sage and sound advice --

“Buy low” -- you bid high, but still get turned down

although you bid above the asking price!

But like a pinball bouncing from home to home

that strikes the bonus, you win a jewel

with kitchens and bathrooms of burnished chrome,

a landscaped yard, and an backyard pool,

and there you can float about in style

and make all the effort you’ve spent worthwhile.

Sanctuary

For the Annual Meeting of the East Congregational Church of Milton, June 4, 2017

Brothers and sisters, when we’re upstairs

Singing the hymns and saying our prayers;

have you noticed that there’s peeling

paint chips flaking on the ceiling?

The narthex rug is stained and faded,

the paraments are dull and jaded,

and the light within now has to pass

to us through yellowing Plexiglas.

Beside the altar cross the panels

are sooty now from all the candles

that burned to show God’s presence here

on Sunday mornings for sixty-six years.

Now a sanctuary should inspire

visions of a higher power,

both to those who like to ponder

sermons, and those whose minds wander,

turning their eyes to rise above

the pediment, where the holy dove

looks back down at us in our pews

as we experience God’s good news.

And all or this – the sermon, story,

candles, choir, and offertory – 

are outward signs of an inner grace

that we share together in this sacred space.

So brothers and sisters, let's turn the page
on the musty rugs and the dusty beige,
and join as one to do our duty,

and restore this house of God to beauty.

Potatoes

In the North, November is the month when cold winds blow,

and strip the trees of golden leaves before the coming snow.

In stony fields the cold earth yields to harvesters its fruits

as digging shares relentlessly tear up the tasty roots.

Then caught up in a system that is larger than themselves,

the spuds are lifted up mechanically to picking shelves,

where Latin girls with glistening curls pluck out each haulm and clod,

like angels who send goats to Hell and spare the sheep for God.

The large and firm are washed and graded US Number One,

then sent off to fine restaurants before the day is done.

The knobby and misshapen are dumped into plastic bins;

they’re second class potatoes, for second class citizens.

Potatoes that are mashed and served with turkey, squash and peas

when once a year we volunteers fix homeless folks a feast;

and all the while we laugh and smile, at jokes and gentle ribbing,

then when we're through, share a brew, our due for virtuous living.

Still let’s be sure to thank these poor, for enriching our Thanksgiving.

Sonnet 16 - In Praise of Abstract Art

An image of a herd of bison running

from horsemen twenty thousand years ago

is painted on the cave walls at Lascaux --

it clearly shows a hunt, and ancient cunning.

Now artists paint us much more abstract scenes;

a spattering of brilliant cadmium hues

was sold for millions, making headline news;

while making millions wonder what it means.

Yet if out of this wonderment we find

new meanings using our creative urges,

(though what we come up with sometimes diverges

from what the working artist had in mind)

then we who live in anonymity,

while observing art, share creativity.

The Lesson

Based on a True Story

One night in early spring it snowed

enshrouding house and tree and road

a gift, it seemed, left in the dark

that in the morning sunlight glowed.

All set to go from on their mark

with childish squeal and puppy bark

a copse of children I could see

go sliding downhill in the park.

I walked on to the library

where underneath a glistening tree

by a stone wall I met a friend

who’d just read a great mystery.

“There’s darkness in the hearts of men,”

he said, “it hides inside them, then

explodes in violence, just like all

diseased trees break and never bend.”

Then in that park, by that stone wall

the heavy snow made a tree fall.

It sent a young girl to her grave

and over glory cast a pall.

Where is the lesson we can save

for the enlightenment we crave,

when tree limbs die all over town

and no warden cuts them down?

Sonnet 15 - Valentine

for Betsy, February 14, 2016

She carefully shops for my daily needs,

and when work is done it is she who feeds

me dinner; my lunches and breakfasts and more

are due to her trips to the Stop and Shop store.

Organic apples, and spinach and kale

lean cuts of meat (it they're on sale).

not ever their milk, came it from cows of heaven;

she knows it's on sale at Seven Eleven.

But this year were oodles of money blown

for a luxury car and a new smartphone?

No! Each purchase was pondered thoroughly through,

the nice quiet ride and the most useful tool.

This Valentine is for my practical wife

who knows how to get the most out of life.

Sonnet 5 - When the Levee Breaks

To all the angels at East Congregational Church, Milton, Mass.

Although it seems like there's no joy, my friends

when we're immersed in trials and tribulations;

the quality of our resolve depends

on how we deal with touchy situations.

It's said good gifts are sent us from on high

but sometimes from the sky comes too much rain

which floods out some, while leaving others dry

untouched by muck arising up the drain.

But we are touched, our eyes well up, we care;

a silent voice inside both you and me

calls all of us to rise against despair

together, and drain pain from misery.

Then that still voice, from the unseen Spirit

crescendos until everyone can hear it.