Beauty First
by Mary Feagan

Listen. I learned something this morning.
Fruit comes from flowers. Do you see?
Results come from joy and beauty first.
You don’t hammer seeds in the ground and wait for breakfast.
The important step is in-between.
You eagerly plant ten seeds or a thousand.
Then the seeds, quietly and invisibly, in comfort and heat
drowning and dryness, well, the seeds either die or open up.
If in their own time they graciously come up, open up for you
what do they do first? They bloom!
“Beauty first!” they shout. “Beauty first!” then breakfast.

see Mary read this poem


Fearless Books is pleased to announce the release of a new and most unusual e-book: FROM THE MERCY CHAIR, featuring poems, illustrations, and video peformances by Mary Feagan. This is spiritual poetry like you've never read or heard it before: funny, heartwarming, and honest.

Inspired by the teaching known as A Course in Miracles, Mary writes about blowing her mind, watching TV with Grandmama God, whining, opening a pub, cavorting with her inner moose, and much, much more.

Many of the 50 poems in this digital volume are highlighted with Mary's original illustrations, and seven of them are linked to YouTube videos of Mary giving readings you'll never forget.

As you'll see, Mary is a very youthful poet and she has more to say. A second volume of her work is already being planned, and will be released later in 2013. For now, order an instant download of this entertaining and inspiring collection from any of the quality e-book retailers shown below (more to come). And enjoy a few more samples on this page, below!





I Can Ask for No More
by Mary Feagan

I feel peace today like opening my door to a swirling soft blinding blessing
of snow that opens my eyes so I can see that there’s nothing to say
or to do but only to feel the sweet warmth of my heart in my chest
and my throat singing beautiful note after note of mute joy
for the chance just to stand at the door. I can ask for no more.
But my soul, bolder and wiser than warmth, asks peace in.
Then the roaming blizzard of soft silent snow
comes through the doorway, comes to me in my home.
It promptly embraces me, turns my last shred of fear into bliss.
I relax, I let go, I surrender and disappear.
I melt right here in the air of my living room.
Now there is only the wooing wind, the open door
and the whirling white velvet grace-giving snow.
I have become peace. I can ask for no more.


by Mary Feagan

I was driving up Route 77 from North Carolina into Virginia, Meg.
Then I thought of you. I mean I felt your wholehearted presence.
Holy Goats! On the beach of the ocean of my heart I did a handstand,
flipped back into the waves, got caught in an undertow of love
so fast and deep I sputtered, choked, lost my breath and nearly drowned.
Thank you for nearly killing me with joy.
Next time I think of you while I’m driving, Meg, I’ll pull over.


Feagan’s Pub
by Mary Feagan

I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.
I feel the tingle in my body, grin like a tipsy old Irishwoman.
I am giddy with don’t know. My mind seems. . .  oh, never mind my mind.
I hear music between my ears, a penny-whistle and two fiddles.
As I was saying before I interrupted myself, my mind is quiet.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I can’t find my mind. It’s gone.
My head is full of light, and that music. I know nothing.
I can barely say these words. There’s a celebration going on in me.
My heart is giving a party from my head to my toes. Hey!
It just opened a tavern called Feagan’s Pub. Free music and Guinness.
Everyone I love is here. How in God’s Name did this happen? 
I don’t know. There is only one thing I know.
While my mind is away, my heart wants to play

see Mary read this poem


All poetry & illustrations ©2013 by Mary Feagan.
All rights reserved.

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