SHORT STORIES

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Mr. Coco-Nut

          Eric sat patiently in the shade watching the coconut palms sway gently in the seasonal trade winds. He’d learned the importance of patience. He’d come to respect nature’s own impeccable timing. No longer did he witlessly climb the narrow trees, hacking away with his machete to prematurely bring down the heavy nuts.

As he sat there, a smile grew on Eric’s lips. The elders in the village…

© Michael William Hogan

SHORT STORIES

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Thanksgiving

          Thirty-one kids and fifteen adults crowded into my parents’ tiny basement to celebrate Thanksgiving on November 28, 1992. It was loud. It was chaotic. And an entire third-world country could have been fed with all the food carried down from the kitchen that day. My plump cousin Benny was the star of the show, sneaking off to the garage with two mince-meat pies and gobbling them down before dinner…

© Michael William Hogan

SHORT STORIES

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The White Boy

          As the children ran from the ceremonial hut, their cheerful screams and laughter nearly drowned out the calls and screeches of the many colorful birds high above in the tree canopy that enveloped their small village. This was not a day for hunting, gathering or any of the usual tribal chores. Rather, it was a day of restoration for body and soul; an opportunity to ignore the burdens of life in the rain forest and for children to be…

© Michael William Hogan

SHORT STORIES

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Maddie & Leo

          “Dearest, would this be of interest to you?”

Maddie entered the doorway and crossed her husband’s study as excitedly as her 84 years and two arthritic hips could carry her. She shakily thrust an auction catalog in front of Leo’s face. In typical fashion, his response was less than enthusiastic.

“It’s a Daum Crystal Amber Stanislas,” Maddie piped. “I know, I know…

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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Sippy Cup

What is this thing
that mum calls a cup?
It’s hard as a rock,
and which way is up?

I cried ‘cause I’m thirsty;
mum quickly appeared.
But then she brought this thing;
it sure does look weird.

OFFICIAL SELECTION - Action on Film MegaFest 16th Annual Film Festival and Writers Competition - 2020

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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I Should Have
Stayed in Bed

I had no clue of things to be
in the dismal day ahead;
‘cause if the future I could see
I would have stayed in bed.

Some coffee and some cornflakes
is how I start my day;
Curdled milk would be my first mistake

OFFICIAL SELECTION - Action on Film MegaFest 16th Annual Film Festival and Writers Competition - 2020

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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This Tribulation

Dawn now breaks another day;
how I wish it all away.
All the anger that I’ve borne
still within me this new morn.

People cry about their rights;
Instigating endless fights.
They hit the streets and join the mobs;
Protesting’s become their jobs.

OFFICIAL SELECTION - Action on Film MegaFest 16th Annual Film Festival and Writers Competition - 2020
OFFICIAL SELECTION - Hollywood Dreams 4th Annual International Film Festival and Writers Competition - 2020

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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It Lurks Behind the Door

The monster lurks behind the door,
please God don’t let this be.
‘cause if its feet come ‘cross the floor,
there’ll be no rest for me.

I’m nothing but a little girl,
it doesn’t seem to care.
It has an endless appetite,

OFFICIAL SELECTION - Action on Film MegaFest 16th Annual Film Festival and Writers Competition - 2020
OFFICIAL SELECTION - Hollywood Dreams 4th Annual International Film Festival and Writers Competition - 2020

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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Give Me Puberty,
or Give Me Death!

Our subject today is named, Willie;
he’s such an unfortunate lad;
His story is sure to sound silly,
but to Willie it truly is sad.

He’s never done well with the ladies;
he simply cannot meet their needs.
Life for Willie feels somewhat like Hades;

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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The Junkie’s Daughter

Hunger,
her companion
‘till infant tears bring sleep.
Three days since mother overdosed.
Sow. Reap.

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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The Sort

Come one, come all; please form two lines.
If homeless, by choice, move into line A;
If homeless by happenstance, enter line B.

Now those in line A, split your line into two.
If rejecting all help, you’ll form a line C;
to accept some assistance, please enter
line D.

© Michael William Hogan

POETRY

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He Cannot Win

He’s attacked for being Christian;
He’s attacked for being white.
No matter where he travels,
someone wants to pick a fight.

He’s attacked because he’s older;
He’s attacked ‘cause he’s a guy.
And if he dares defend himself,

© Michael William Hogan