As sniper Beardsley was good at his work

by William Arthur

Prose


THE BUNKER IS A TOMB FOR THE LIVING

by Hartley Barnes

Prose


Zipline

by donna zephrine

Prose


Life Was Simpler When I Carried a Duffel Bag

by George Kulas

Prose


Early Jade of Morning

by Frank Mattson

Poem


What I'd Like, What I Need

by Allen Burns

Poem


WILLOW WAS HER NAME

By Neal Lesh, Army

Writing Type: Poem

Under tall oak trees, the summer breeze, blows gently through her hair.
With her quiet sighs, and soft blue eyes, I couldn’t help but stare.

She noticed me, and I could see, her face all flushed with shame.
It was very clear, I fell in love right here, and “Willow” was her name.

Through a summer rain, we walked the lane, not far from where we met.
We knew for sure, our love was pure, as pure as love can get.

The autumn wind, caused trees to bend, as it swept down where we stood.
She caught a chill and soon took ill.
The outlook wasn’t good.

The winter’s snow, began to blow, and shadows filled the day.
A love so strong though not for long -- in spring she passed away.

One shouldn’t cry for sad good-byes, be happy just the same.
‘Cause I can’t forget the one I met, and “Willow” was her name.

Under tall oak trees, a summer breeze, blows gently through her hair.
Through mist-filled eyes, I still hear her sighs; how I wish that she were there.

Though the years progress, my one happiness would be to hold her just the same.
As I did then,
I’d do again, and “Willow” was her name.

.. And I’ll never be the same.

Notes: Mary Ellen Zemanek

Hartford, CT. Great Circus Fire

by George Arnold

Prose


The Promise

by Lynwood Hughed

Prose


Tonight's Patrol

by Justin Stone

Prose


So this is Memorial Day

by Paul Nyerick

Prose


Green and Gold

by Scott Sjostrand

Poem


Too Late

by Tony Craidon

Poem