For All The Beautiful, Young Men

“For All the Beautiful, Young Men” I see the courage in their brave-lit eyes as Omaha becomes their shining hour. The camera’s caught the morning’s gray, dull skies. Men wait; committed with the bravest power. The ramp now opens; there’s the glint of morn. There is no turning back; no time to pause. Momentum made…

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The Flowers of the Field

Photo by Priceless Times Photography “The Flowers of the Field” The reach within your baby hands so sweet make father want to hold back ticking time but even you, my child , are forced to meet a different kind of father in this rhyme. He’s called old Time and steals your innocence Allows your golden…

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For Johnny

  (Photo by Jacqueline Casey) “For Johnny” When silver leaves sigh, trembling to the grounda brilliant gold is sprinkled everywhere.Sure, then I hear your laughter mid the soundof steps that shuffle up abandoned stair. When scarlet leaves dance, hesitant to partlay deep in dusty shadows, they intoneand whisper “I have been here where my heartknows…

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The Morning After

  “The Morning After” Push open all the doors to house at five. Breathe deep_ the morning air; keep lungs alive. A birthday celebration leaves its claim; confetti on the sofa_in the drain. We held the starry night so drunk with love but now, in morning light, squint eyes above. The dying ash in fireplace…

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The Hearing of Judge Kavanaugh

Salacious allegations now may seize and rip Scalia’s spirit as it falls. Inside, bold lies may bend us to our knees  and rattle glass that shake these hallowed halls. Lead voices at the hearing speak of law  yet minutes into speech, a sentence shrill:  malodorous, her laugh; demonic scowl:  Her urgency grows stronger as she…

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“For Lydia”

There’s Lydia; we catch a glimpse of her among the burning leaves of mid July. She guides her horse with water wagon where, at Gettysburg, are soldiers marked to die. The men, propped there by tree or death’s cold stare, Alone, their broken, golden dreams are gone. They cannot answer captain’s call to share nor…

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The Blue Grass Trailer Park

The Blue Grass Trailer Park The Blue Grass Trailer Park. A crowded court where sis and I grew up; played in the sand. Where summers were a hopscotch and cavort while list’ning to the sound of Dorsey’s band. Our home a cosy space for count of five. A closet kitchen with three rooms beside. A…

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