Ride 'em Cowboy

by Dan Yates



by Lisa Farabelli



by Nila Bartley


His Limbo Soliloquy

by Carl Palmer


Why America Will Never Run Out of Marines

by Phil Hosier


Lord Fletcher's

by Christopher Bremicker



By J Marchand, Army

Writing Type: Poem

n my sleeping vision, I stand naked and confused in a deep valley.
The stench of death hangs smog-like as a red sky dawns.
Clenched in the fist of my n1alevolent right ann is a sword,
Bloody and dull.
I ache, and I am alone~
I have killed them all in the darkness.
Hot rain pours down on me, but the blood won't wash away,
It just won't wash away.
It seems I have been through a quagmire I can't remember entering.
Staggered by guilt and shame, I start to weep~
I weep cold tears.
An ancient willow beckons me;
I' 1n drawn to this old tree.
""Why are you weeping,"" whispers the willow.
""Con1e and teil me ... confide in me ... trust In e ... believe in me.""
""Why should 1,"" is my reply.
""Because I have seen many battles and I know all about weeping.
Sit and rest awhile; let my boughs shelter you.
Let my thirsty roots absorb your tears.''
So under the willow weeping, I sit back to bark on the wann,
moist earth.
''I have done horrible things on my journey to this place,
My path of death and horror. I fought my way here,
Dragging them with me through that swmnp.
One by one I cut them to pieces and not one was my enemy.
The most courageous I tortured and brutalized,
And not one was my enemy.
I am an evil person.""
''You are not evil,"" replied the willow, ""Just another lost soul.
And you can be forgiven.
Throw down your sword! Trust me ... believe in me.''
I throw down my bloody blade.
It becomes a serpent and slithers away.
A young boy appears.
I go to him, embrace him,
And arm in arm we walk away as one into the morrow.

MIA--Missing in America

by Matthew Davison


Dog Days - A Blast from the Past

by Penny Deere



by Lawrence Langman


A Door to the Future

by Louise Eisenbrandt


Ella's Submarine

by David Ludlow



by Neal Morrison Jr