Thirty days has . . . . . . November --poems

                                            leaves  blown onto the south steps

Windy--

oak leaves settle

until the next gust hits,

& then they scatter farther down

the porch.--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

open window--

a passing train's whistle

on the cool night air

--Dot McLaughlin, NJ

~ ~ ~ ~

three generations

and the calico . . . Sunday

afternoon naps

--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

six-foot wingspan

the blue heron lifting

from algae-filled pond

--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

a vice-president's

new life as a chimney sweep

his colleagues all died

--PL

~ ~ ~ ~

another full moon

bigger   brighter   rounder than

any seen in childhood

--Dion O'Donnol, CA

encased in ice

limbs and lights sagging

Santa on the firetruck 

--PL

Cinquains by Pat and friends--Ted Badger & the late Lew Taylor

BIOGRAPHY
His dog
walked him to school,
and many years later,
one lay beside his bed until
he died.
--PL, from an obit
~ ~ ~ ~

BLIP ON THE SCREN
Life is
transitory--
a wisp of smoke soon gone.
Best then focus energies to
seek love.
--Ted O. Badger
~ ~ ~ ~

BREAKING WRITERS BLOCK
Write poems
like you pick plums.
Glean all that come to you.
Sort out the ones with flaws and worms
later.
--Lew Taylor
~ ~ ~ ~

CAROUSEL
Shuffling
the wooden herd
between storage spaces
resulted in the loss of one
pony.
---PL
~ ~ ~ ~

DOMINANT TRAIT
Science
can't abolish
our fallibility
because human nature always
prevails.
--TB
~ ~ ~ ~

DR. JOHNNY WINK, OBU
Satchel
in his right hand
paper in the other,
he walked to class memorizing
poems.
--PL
~ ~ ~ ~

EVOLUTION CONTINUES
Early
worms sometimes meet
birds, becoming breakfasts.
Some day hence all worms will be late
sleepers.
--LT
~ ~ ~ ~

c 2018, PL d/b/a/ lovepat press, Benton AR

A poetic salute on Veteran's Day

A SALUTE

It's Veteran's 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.

PL, written November 11, 1989.

c 2018, PL d/b/a lovepat press, Benton AR USA