Plunder

by Lynn Norton

Poem


Take My Hand and Walk With Me

by Gene Groner

Poem


Cat's in the Cradle

by Tom Lauterback

Prose


Strange 8

by Daniel Strange

Art


First Day in Vietnam

by Daniel Strange

Prose


Women in the Military History Speech – March

by Judith Leu

Prose


AUTO SHOW

By Arnold Neil, Army

Writing Type: Poem

As we walk through the door we feel the breeze, smell the plastic and metal, don't sneeze.
Sit in this car if you will; the price will give you a chill.
I look at this shiny new paint and say, no, that's not it, wait.
The salesman comes over and says, ""I have another one in bright shiny red.""
The man just listens and walks as the girls on the tables talk.
We're all here to look at new cars, but I see old friends' faces from afar.
I remember when the rear view mirror was there on the hood, not really over there.
Walk around, your ticket they did take. Nine dollars was too high to forsake.
But now as I'm at this auto show, I feel, oh, how old I have grown.
The cars are all shiny new, but the one I remember was blue.
My first car, oh yes, it was fun, reverb, buckets seats, shifter gun.
But now I am older by far, and I stare at all shiny new cars.
But as these cars do grow old, their prices in the future won't be as bold,
But now is another auto show. Oh man, if I was young, we could go.
Race tracks, thoughts to our mind. Kick the tires, is the timing really fine?
Carburetors are gone from that place where I used to sit with Grace turning it
But now spark plugs are all gone; fuel injectors don't sing that song.
Spurt, spurt in the carburetor it would go, and the gas tank would run so very low,
But really is this an auto show? No.
FAMILY

Notes: Michelle Maloney

Our Voice Means Something

by Kennith Harvey

Poem


I Left Mississippi

by Benjamin Williams

Poem


He Was the Enemy: A Soldier's Dilemma

by JonnieLynn Donatelli

Poem


Homes for Veterans

by Gene Groner

Prose


Mixed Signals

by William Greenhut

Prose


Americans United

by Ronald Grella

Poem