Thursday, November 24, 2011

(I really can spell "can't"....)

After I saw my spelling gaffe in the previous post, I tried and tried to "edit" the "y" out, yet when I clicked on View again, there it was! Forgive. Makes me humble and contrite; I should have caught it earlier. pl

One last breath of autumn before the Christmas rush

Tears came
for the first time
as I read of sailors
lining up for 15-minute
phone calls

to wives,
sweethearts or Moms
from their duty stations
on the USS Roosevelt
warship. (2001)
I broke
with tradition
when I left their father
so I can'ty complain that I feast
alone. (2002)
Thanksgiving, a
young man stands in the grass
by a stoplight. His sign: "homeless,
hungry." (2004)

Dad gets
child number four
from ex-wife number two
for the Thanksgiving Day visit
with him. (2005)
on two fingers
in the first few minutes
of preparing for Thanksgiving
dinner. (2001)

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Nearly Thanksgiving


'depleted foliage
from a waning autumn'
he fishes for bass
[from a picture by William Moore,and part of the caption, ADG. This is called a 'found' poem.]

on my day off
I sit on the porch
revel in the rain

every leaf gone
from the once-brilliant

speckled maple leaf
blows over my shoulder
onto my journal
'write about me' it beckons
'so my life will mean something'

all paws in the dish
gleaning for leftover bits
the lone kitten

bumble bee
into the bucket of pears

a foggy morning
the sun sending starburst rays
through the tops of pines
[ADG picture, B. Krain]

northwestern cloud bank
layers of pinks and blues
of the lightest hues

c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Veteran's Day --a poem


It's Veteran' Day, and in my mind
I see the flags and guns aligned,
parading down the thoroughfare,
cheers and chanting everywhere.

With wholeness gone, but proud and free,
from wheelchair, an amputee
waves tearfully, perhaps through pain,
and hopes it was not all in vain,
his sacrifice.

Memories--still vivid--swirl,
blitzing those who served at Pearl;
the Rangers now, though all old men,
smile proudly as they think again
of Normandy.

Gunner's mates, ensigns and chiefs
remember all their various griefs
and hells, awaking still to screams
of slogging through the swamp in dreams
of Vietnam.

Returned to glorious accolades,
the troops of Desert Storm parade,
proud of their work in blinding sands,
defending Kuwait's borderlands
on Persia's Gulf.

And in my mind's projection room,
I hear the drum's resounding boom,
reminding me of sacrifice,
of pain and death: the awesome price
of freedom.

c 2011 Pat Laster dba lovepat press

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Deer hunting season - early November

A Haiku Sequence
by Pat Laster

I. rigs' slow migrations
this early autumn Friday
deerhunter hopefuls

II. chill, misty dawn
Lord-God peckerwood clucking
in the distance

III. unscattered darkness
clumping in leafy places
the patter of acorns

IV. doe slips from shadows
faint sound of gunfire
across the morning

V. solitude
where the doe had been
distant clap & boom

VI. rainy Monday
smattering of rigs heading
back to routine

--haiku-ized from an Arkansas Times column by Bob Lancaster published during November of 1997.

c 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press