it was third platoon’s turn to leave
the safety of the wire
our platoon’s mission
search and destroy
the air was like a sauna with no relief
the jungle closed in on us
blocked out the sun
our packs weighed on us
as we humped twenty klicks
without a break
our jungle fatigues
hung heavy on us
failed to wick sweat away
from our bodies
we felt as though a
salty monsoon had soaked us
Johnson, on point, was
out in front probing
for the enemy
we all hoped the day
would end peacefully
we spread out
to lesson our chances
of mass casualties
we reached the village
mid afternoon
it was deserted
even the water buffalo was gone
we ripped up the floors
in each hootch looking for
the hidden enemy-but found none
when we finished searching
we pulled our Zippos from
our pockets and lit
the dry straw that served as
a roof on each one
and watched as the hootches roared up
in flames like a Roman candle on July 4
our lieutenant signaled for us to
take a break and we sat among
the debris some smoking
cigarettes others catching some zees
no one was
going home in a body bag
our day was a success
Beyond the Wire
another day in country
we shuffled out beyond the wire
our platoon’s mission
search and destroy
the air was hot and humid
like a sauna with no relief
the jungle closed in on us
wrapping us in a green cloak
blocking out the sun
Johnson, on point, was
out in front probing
for the enemy
hoping the day
would end peacefully
we spread out
lessoning our chances
of becoming an easy target
our heavy packs weighed on us
as we humped twenty klicks
without a break
our jungle fatigues
failed to wick sweat away
from our bodies leaving
us feeling as though
a monsoon had soaked us
we reached the village
and began searching each hootch carefully
ripping up flooring looking
for the hidden enemy
when we had finished searching
we pulled our Zippos from
our pockets and lit
the dry straw that served as
the roof on each one
and watched as each one roared up
in flames like a Roman candle on July 4
our lieutenant signaled for us to
take a break and we sat among
the debris some smoking
cigarettes others smoking reefer
our day was a success
no one was
going home in a body bag
Snowplows rumble through the night.
A distant tomorrow
already applauds a surprised sunrise.
Later, Sol turns the slushy ice to diamonds
while it digs the world out again.
For a while, the land is shoveled up,
cleaned and rolled into paper-light reams.
Whether the earth melts
or grows backyard glaciers,
skyscraping winds will blow down
deeper than ever before.
Eventually winter pileups
are pushed back
by the steamy breath of labor
and the prayers of those who only watch.
Machines continue cleaning up dead spaces,
constructing viewing platforms
for the fur-fluffed and swift winged onlookers.
Lazarus moments come and go
between the humped heaps of ice and snow.
Following night's tenebrous sheen
on this aging lake-
humped seashells drifted on aimlessly;
I Iaid forlorn by an old palm tree
needing to connect with anyone, anyone
until turbulent waves slapped my face..
How bitter this stab of aloneness
....gripping the hidden lament without relief
and eve's naked rays were gone
upon my chilling pores...
and no one cared about my misery.
Insolent ripples drowned my grate of angst
where bleary eyes grieved like a widow:
I moaned in hushes yet not even
a restless wind heard
my internal oration, my calls for reprieve ---
begging for a timber of sound
beneath a shawl of dimming stars ,
no one , not even the silence
of a saintly breeze
cared to listen ...not now.
4th place
saunter
promenade
along quiet roads
all around the public park
over humped backed bridges
enjoying gentle physical exercise
I got a bra
It is quite uplifting
Can't see my feet
Now I am tripping
Walking down the street
Men do really stare
I also dyed my
Hair a purple shade.
My husband did not
Notice, nor my grandson
Whoa!! All those whistles
I got walking home
They don't know I'm
Eighty, humped and old
They just see the boobs
Bobble as I walk alone
Santa and the Mrs. went out dancing
They went to the Red Chapel wild prancing.
Swing to the music and humped;
Pulled away, sway round, and jumped.
Pushed, wobble away, looked back proud, glancing.
Santa and the Mrs. partied hearty
Until night lit, busting their humps, smarty.
Woke with aching hangover.
Rudolph, out in the clover,
showing off bright nose, wittingly, arty.
Hey, Santa, running late and feel sixer.
Mrs. Santa did mix an elixir.
He drank till room stop spinning.
Smart aleck Rudolph, grinning.
Weak with sore belly, sobered up quicker.
the green dog had the bluest eyes and the ears of orange said Mack.
He had a blue nose, and red scales down his hairy humped over back.
the second he walked in the door, he said “Hello, just call me Jack.”
I was so surprised he spoke English, I nearly fell over said Mack.
Did he come to rob you, to ransack, to home invade or attack?
At first I did not know why he was there at all, said my cousin Mack.
But we had a long chat, and I learned the hard story of dog Jack.
It was so sad, I let him stay with us. His bedroom is down in the back.
3 a.m. a green modem light,
blinks regularly in a dark bedroom.
A hoot owl breaks the silence,
its call is never predictable,
always out of step
with your own heartbeat.
Something different,
your open eyes search,
the shadows,
the humped dimness of furniture.
Something is prodding a sleepy mind,
and it is not a bladder.
A dream will not leave you,
it has filled the room with its presence.
Eroticism dressed in layers of intimacy.
You know that dream,
and here it is now,
haunting you, out in the open,
while you watch your mind
melting once more.
I've heard about the arrival of fanciful fushia strangers
but I've no fear of them and not worried about dangers.
They seem a bit nonsensical; funny the way they speak
To me, everything they say comes out sounding like Greek!
Maybe on their planet, peaches have three turquoise eyes
Could they be humans, just wearing an alien disguise?
I've never heard the haloed moon referred to as mother Mary,
nor of opulent opal oceans and a three humped dromedary.
I call them fluff nuggets; an accurate description, I think
Their gibberish makes me shake with laughter, quick as a wink
Life forms like these AI are manipulated by puppet strings
They're infringing upon planet Earth, inhabited by Earthlings.
*These are my thoughts and words, but if you take umbrage with
any of the lines, I'll throw Jan under the bus, cuz she started it.
There was a zany, zesty Zebu that lived his
life with full of zest.
Out of the animals in the big wildlife reserve
he shined brighter than the rest.
He was never down with a big frown, he was
positive and enthusiastic,
So super uplifting that his positivity rubbed off
on all in his presence, his "go-to phrase was “
you’re fantastic!"
The zany, zestful Zebu from a wildlife reserve
in New Zealand isn’t gone.
Zachariah was his name; he was known for
his zestfulness and positivity, his memory
lives on.
* Zebu- The zebu, sometimes known in the plural as indicine
cattle or humped cattle, is a species or subspecies of domestic cattle originating in the Indian sub-continent.
05/12/23
Contest: “Z” Challenge Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
Out-built, humped, and beached, breached by moonlight,
nothing comes out of an old barn unfound.
Engine oil, the fungal fur of time warped wood.
Weather-eaten iron coated by rusted smears.
mouse hairs that rise upon old horse leather.
The green metallic wine on tin cans
a devolved acropolis of tractor parts put aside
for a thousand nights to seek and hide.
Gaskets strewn where tangles bloom.
Nothing lingers long without leaving its print
nailed to the air.
Possum pelts patch-work timbers into skin-deep quilts.
Tobacco smoke and sweat, the turpentine film of the
once varnished, the once cherished.
Treasures bolted to a deathless sleep, well rubbed
tackle and tools harnessed now to a tumbled-down dust,
a sun-frayed flap of light slipping in and out
as if time could be fixed and torn shadows mended.
Out-built, humped, and beached, breached by moonlight,
nothing comes out of an old barn unfound.
Engine oil, the fungal fur of time warped wood.
Weather-eaten iron coated by rusted smears.
mouse hairs that rise upon old horse leather.
The green metallic wine on tin cans
a devolved acropolis of tractor parts put aside
for a thousand nights to seek and hide.
Gaskets strewn where tangles bloom.
Nothing lingers long without leaving its print
nailed to the air.
Possum pelts patch-work timbers into skin-deep quilts.
Tobacco smoke and sweat, the turpentine film of the
once varnished, the once cherished.
Treasures bolted to a deathless sleep, well rubbed
tackle and tools harnessed now to a tumbled-down dust,
a sun-frayed flap of light slipping in and out
as if time could be fixed and torn shadows mended.
Light and shade are vital to life's beauty, charm, and richness. By Poet.
sun
sunshine
dawn to dusk
nature supplies
vivacious hues clash
cumulonimbus cloud
sprouts expanse toward the sun
every day, it swells keen and vast
as crocus sprouts muzzle widespread breeze
in stark peacefulness through the strides of verve
Melted gold gleams in the thoughts of moonbeams.
As light wanes, faint stars tackle to glow.
they shimmer like zillions of studs
while embedded to sunbeams
Scudding blue-purple swarms.
soar through azure sky.
gazed birch leaf buds
and clean grass
spring's rays
warmth.
scour
the bliss
tweaked and deep
blue fades to mauve
humped at hearts of stem
stream heavenly keenness
as waterway of sheer praise
sequent the path of least toughness
same as a flower's smell loads the air
linked to bode love, uttering lease to flow
Written: February 15, 2022
1st place contest winner
E Forms- Etheree - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Arms, legs,
fists, feet,
beating chests;
teeth meet.
Stones, bones,
sharp-honed tusks,
poisoned darts;
obsidian clubs.
Slings, arrows,
outrageous bows,
black-edged flints;
sharp-pointed swords.
Red-glare rockets,
gold knightly spears,
squat-humped cannons;
trebuchets.
Muskets, pistols,
bayonet rifles,
spitting Maxims;
Tommy guns.
Gray battleships,
deep submarines,
articulated tanks;
V-ones, V-twos.
Experimental Zeppelins,
jet-fighter planes,
flying forts;
atomic bombs.
Poison gas,
Laser rays,
will it ever end;
the race?
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