The Concert by Edna St. Vincent Millay

No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it’s over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me?—
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself
Between me and song.

If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed,
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wise advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town

Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The milk and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!

You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.

Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller

Than when I went.
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Friday Poetry Prompt


I thought this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay titled The Concert was apropos :)

Originally posted on Valeri's poems & random thoughts :

Poetry Prompt: Write a poem about the FIRST real concert you went to and enjoyed.  You don’t have to write about the little kid music you went to or the music concerts your parents dragged you to (unless you want to)

My first concert was Motley Crue back in the late 80’s, that I really liked :D  I will be going to see Motley Crue on their final tour in October.  I had seen other bands, but they didn’t leave as much of an impression on me (and certainly didn’t inspire any poems)

by Valeri BeersPoisonspeeding alongon the road.Black & shiny,1 million miles anhour.Destination forbidden.2tons of metalinyour face.Cops onthe tail,orange trianglesfollowin’ us.Afast  roadto Nowhere.Hot & crowdedbeing dragged underin a wave(now I know better!)Explosionsona moon

View original 16 more words

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An Interview with Donal Mahoney


1.What made you write and keeps you writing.

I have no idea what made me begin writing other than quirks in my personality and a love of words. I remember early in grammar school trying to write my first story with a character named Yukoa, an American Indian. Have no idea why I did it. Maybe it was raining and I couldn’t go outside and play ball.

I cannot say specifically what motivates me to write other than to say that I was reared in a home of Irish immigrant parents where my father, despite minimal education, finished crossword puzzles quickly. When either angry or happy, he threw words around like cannonballs. I went to the dictionary early in childhood to keep up with him. He was the only one I knew who would answer a yes or no question with the word “perhaps.” I have come to think that life is one big “perhaps” that cannot be answered with a yes or no.

2. Who or what most influences …writers …things…situations…emotions

What influences me most is the sound of words bumping into each other and what they mean when they bump into each other in the right way—my way when I am trying to arrange them.

If words are the most influential thing in my life, people surely are their chief rival. Other folks notice nice cars and beautiful flowers. I notice people, usually odd people, myself among them, perhaps because I’m odd in many ways that cannot be seen and that I have to live with and others have to put up with.

I can see a person, not know anything about them, but their mannerisms will tell me a story that may or may not be true. The piece may start out as a poem and end up as a short story. Normally I make up everything I write. Although I worked as an editor for a newspaper and magazines, I would have been a terrible reporter. Facts, for me, always threaten a good story, an autoimmune disease many people of Irish ancestry suffer from. Very rarely do I have any idea how a poem or story will end. I follow it until it ends, if that makes any sense.

3. How does writing poetry and your own life merge? What made you a poet and how does it affect your daily life?

Writing for me is an obsession. I have and have had other obsessions in life that have been good and bad. I have no idea what made me a poet, although I am uncomfortable applying that label to myself. I just like words and want to see what the next casserole I make will taste like. In addition, writing for me is an innocent obsession compared with others that have been in my life. I am lucky to have quit drinking and smoking the day I got married and never have returned to either. But five children were born healthy and still well in the first 6 years and 8 months of marriage, children wanted by both parents. That was in the Sixties. After the birth of the fifth child, I bought a TV.

4. Do your poems make you sad or happy or any other emotions that they bring?

Writing a poem through its various stages and finally finishing it is one act of love that seems to have no negative repercussions for me or for others.

Poems from my early life were probably more introspective that what emerges now. Usually, a poem begins with a word or phrase that sounds good to me and I type it out, and then write a beginning, middle and eventually an end, incorporating the word or phrase that got me started. I have no idea how or why I work like this. I just do.

5. Looking at your own writing style: How did you develop it. What do you think makes others enjoy what you have to say and the way you say it.

I write and revise, barring appointments, 7 days a week in two shifts of roughly three hours each. Mostly it’s rewriting. It might take as many as 30 drafts to get a poem or story to the point where I have to say I cannot do anything more with this and I send it out. I think it was Dylan Thomas who may have said that a poem is never finished but simply abandoned. I’d have to agree.

I started writing fiction late in life, thanks to an editor who returned a poem and said it would make a better short story. I had never written fiction or tried. So I reworked the poem into a story. Since then, I have had maybe 70 stories published, most of them born of poems that did not work out and that I could not abort.

I have no idea why some people like the way I write and others maybe not so much. I write for myself or rather for my ear. How something sounds is usually more important to me than what I am saying unless, of course, I’m in the didactic arena.

Content, of course, can determine how someone reacts to something I’ve written. I’m far from politically correct and can cause anger when I write about something that fails to mirror trends of the day. If write about nice things, which I sometimes do, people are happy or silent.

Like many others, I don’t write because I want to. I write because I have to and it keeps me out of trouble. It is the most innocent obsession I have ever had. I am always afraid that someday I might bump into one of the others. So far I haven’t.


Thank you Donal for sharing your whys and hows of writing :)   Also, thank you for sharing your wonderful poems with Poetry Pasta :)Valeri Beers

(questions by Frank Esposito)

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FREE poetry :)

FREE download of poetry and short stories of Volume 3.

My poem “id” was chosen (Valeri Beers), along with other Poetry Pasta contributors including Joan McNerny (July) and Rita Marie Recine (Playground in my mind).  Congratulations to everyone :)


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Poem writing exercise :) This is EASY! :)

I thought this was a great, very helpful exercise :)  I am going to use myself this weekend :)

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Thank you to ALL of YOU

1200+ of YOU likes the words on Poetry Pasta and have subscribed :)

Thank you so very much :)  Please let us know in the comments what YOU want to see more of on Poetry Pasta :)

ty awesomety key

TY words

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Siren of the Streets by Donal Mahoney

(photo by Carol Bales)
Whenever she comes by
it’s always the same thing.
I make her comfortable
and then she leaves. 
I tell her she’s a harlot 
hooking up all night 
with God knows who 
but in her case God
looks the other way.
Curious neighbors 
ask if I know her.  
I ask them do I look 
like that kind of man?
Peter denied Christ thrice
but I make Peter a piker
when it comes to denying 
this siren of the streets.
Once in a while a neighbor,
smitten as I am, takes her in
because she’s attractive
and it’s peaceful until
some morning very early
she’s on my deck again
heartbroken, forlorn,
willing to do anything
for a nosh and a drink. 
Since no one is up
at that hour to see me 
I sit on the deck
and she leaps on my lap
and I stroke her until
she’s a Lamborghini 
purring at a red light. 
Then she drives off,
leaving me on the deck
heartbroken, forlorn.
She must have been spayed.
Never had any kittens. 
What might Pope Francis 
think about this?
Her kittens, after all,
would have been beautiful 
just as she is,
harlot or not.
A wonderful, surprising poem from Donal. If the picture of the siren had not been included, I would have thought this poem was telling me something different :)
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An Interview with poet Rita Marie Recine


1.What made you write and keeps you writing?

Literature has always been one of my strongest subjects even as a child.

Math was not my cup of tea.. I had much difficulty throughout my school life.

English was a subject I felt comfortable with.. I enjoyed analyzing poems even at a young age

2. Who or what most influences …writers …things…situations…emotions?

Emotions and people play a major role in my writing abilities. They coincide.

I read the Italian newspaper and the encyclopedia.

As I got older, life’s events lead me to express myself much more.

Writing was free speech and expression. Placing your emotions and ideas on paper.

I simply love it,  so I continued on.

The more I concentrated, the more the images flowed through my mind and heart

From definitions to using the proper word.

Before I put it on paper I need to know its meaning.

I will not add any information which I cannot relate to.

I also look at other writers such as Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson and Maya Angelou.. I do research as I write.

I loved Maya Angelou, her words often tugged at my heartstrings..she was very soulful….she spoke with her soul as I wish to do.

She was a noble woman who had compassion and understanding.

I have enjoyed lots of her works

She is considered to be one of my inspirations as well. My inspirations have always been family, friends and nature.

This wonderful creation which we see daily.

My parents primarily for giving me the gift of life and inner strength… after a lifelong of illness, my parents, brother and sisters were my foundations.

School was also an integral part.. I loved to learn and still continue today.

My daughter Bianca and husband Antonio have given me the force to carry on even when I thought that it was impossible due to many health issues. After being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of 38, writing became my refuge, alongside prayer.

My ancestors.

I think about their struggles and as I go through my path in this natural world I come to the realization that if it were not for their arduous work, we today would not have had an easier life.

Writing was a form of therapy I enjoyed very much.

I keep on writing because I feel free…. I choose not to be only defined by illness but my other qualities. This is who I am.

Writing is one of my major strengths.

3. How does writing poetry and your own life merge?

What made you a poet and how does it affect your daily life?

I feel no matter the subject … visible or invisible, we need to make a connection.. a human connection

We need to feel and be in the moment with our thoughts and emotions.

Poetry is intertwined with my life because I can see an image, hear a word, concentrate on the subject and I continue to put pen on paper.

I view intangible things such as the wind and love  and try to make it tangible. I write and rewrite.

I became a poet gradually always keeping in mind and consideration to publish someday.

I entered Italian newspaper competitions, online competitions etc.

I had determination and hard work was involved..

It affects my life because at times I feel that my dreams are not others dreams to attain.

Not all are interested in my poetry and at times it is hurtful but it is all right for this is my life and I am the only person which needs to be satisfied and fulfilled.

I write with my soul … I try to always be true to myself.

I make many drafts before the final piece is out.

4. Do your poems make you sad or happy or any other emotions that they bring?

In all that one does I feel there are always a combination of emotions, in poetry and song it is the same

As I wrote some of my works have left me crying like a child while others had me smiling, pondering, reminiscing about yesterday and today ….I try to convey a message with my prose … always positive. .

I would like my readers to visualize what I write and to enjoy reading.. I would like that they escape to a beautiful world they can call their own.

With this being said it is my wish and prayer that my poetry will bring them back to their childhood or adolescence….

I don’t know how I have developed my way of writing …. I look back at what I wrote in 2004 and today .. it differs… I believe it is with practice that it has changed.

5. Looking at your own writing style: How did you develop it? What do you think makes others enjoy what you have to say and the way you say it?

I also read lots about other writers as Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson and Maya Angelou.

I do research as I write.

From searching for the proper definition in accordance with what message I am trying to convey before I put it on paper I need to know its meaning.. I will not add any information which I cannot relate to.

In reference to others liking my writing I believe that I try my best to capture the readers attention…I don’t know I have succeeded.

I hope that I capture my readers by using imagery they need to visualize. I am very detailed .

It is my wish that when others read my works they smile or say .. “That is my wife, mother, sister, daughter, cousin, niece, friend” and then smile.

I am not sure if everyone enjoys what I write .

I wish they do but I also have to come to the realization that not everyone is interested in poetry….It is my wish that they see the poem as a whole and not in fragments.

If I have touched one person or it has led to one youngster continuing their education in literature then it is suffice for me.

I hope others embrace it as I do, but at the end of the day I write for me because I enjoy it.

My style is imagery …..It is a plus for me if others have enjoyment as well


Frank and Valeri of Poetry Pasta have helped me immensely with their feedback and advice, for this I would like to say thank you.

You are most welcome Rita :)  We enjoy and love your poems :)  Auguri!  (auguri in Italian means congratulations)   Questions courtesy of  Frank Esposito.

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Congratulations Rita Marie Recine!

FROM RITA: Hi everyone! Literature Today .. a literary journal..  will be publishing my poem titled .. The Playground Is The Place To Be.. (read that poem here on Poetry Pasta – Valeri Beers), and the journal may be purchased on Amazon.


yay Rita :)  (VB)

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The Playground Is The Place To Be by Rita Marie Recine


Playground in my mind

I see a playground still today in my mind

Friends and activities you are sure to find.

A window to the world of innocence

Our wonderland.

From water fountains to climbing mountains

From ice rinks to skate, to water fountains by the gate

Today as I walk by a playground, sit on a swing stay awhile, I smile and realize it is a trip which has been long overdue

My sisters,  brother and I

Pure and unblemished

Angelic immaculate

On the slide we would glide

The swing made of wood, slightly painted of yellow color

Wholesome, genuine, comparable to a blooming flower

The playground was the place to be.

Children and creativity.

Singing our song all day long

Swing, swing up so high….reach the clear blue sky

My sisters, brother and I

Reaching out, extending ourselves.

Grasping for the moon

The air was lively, similar to us care free and replenished

Light hearted and nonchalant

Carving our names on the tree

Filled us with glee


The playground was the place to be.

It gave us the thrill , we reached for the horizons

All was pleasant and new. This is one place or adventure every child should do.

The world was so bright day and night.

Love and light

The playground was the place to be.

Gliding down the slide, was a great ride.

So small, feeling so tall, filled with pride

A sentiment no one can deny.

A scrape or two was nothing new.

The essence of time has now passed me by

I still see the journey through the mind’s eye

The playground was the place to be.


I’ll never look at playgrounds the same way :) Another lovely poem from the prolific poetress Rita Marie Recine :)

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