WAR POETRY


Humvee jounces along dusty desert roads,
Coating soldiers with granular fury;
Radio static punctuates dry shimmering air,
Humming emanates from an Ipod.

What will disturb the scene this time?
Nondescript roadside bulk lighting up the day?
Mortar rounds thudding the ground all around?
Perhaps a rocket or two exploding nearby?
Or simply small arms automatic weapons fire,
Peppering their vehicle and their bodies.

Hapless survivors call in air strikes,
More Afghan civilians get killed.
The macabre, gruesome show just goes on.

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Memorial Day Wishes


I remember him as a precocious 13-year old,
Building rabbit traps outdoors,
Planning a trip to Outer Space,
Perfecting the art of computer hacks,
Dominating on the soccer team.

How soon he became a soldier,
Living in Alaska, duty time spent
Shivering in the arctic cold.
Another leap forward, now
He is in Afghanistan,
Doing only God knows what.

Memories of youthful grin and cheerful demeanor,
And a wish I don't see him come home in a bag.


'nuff said.

A Hundred Days


One hundred days is roughly three and a third months,
Time enough for diet and exercise, losing around 20 LBS.

Time to start and finish a small novel, or screenplay.
Time to write 100 poems. Or more, if so inclined.

Time to travel across the continental US on horseback.
Time to sail to Europe and back, on a sailboat.

Time to reach the Moon and back, several times over.
Time to make it halfway to Mars, at closest approach.

Time for an ambitious new president to set in motion
Many changes and programs, trying to nudge History
Enough to save the United States of America from ruin.


(prompted by a poetry contest on 100 days).