Our Voice Means Something

by Kennith Harvey

Poem


The Quail Hunt

by Trina Mioner

Poem


The Walking Wounded

by Benjamin Williams

Poem


The Old Warrior

by Brant Parker III

Array


Fate

by Robert Valonis

Array


Thank a Vet

by Jason Bartley

Array


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

My First Day in the Field (The Jungles of Vietnam)

by Louis Ferrari

Prose


Strange 7

by Daniel Strange

Art


"Forecaste"

by Lynn Norton

Poem


Dave 3.0

by David Cahn

Prose


Head Trip

by W. Joseph O'Connell

Poem


PTSD and the Pandemic and Me

by Karen Green

Poem