Wolf Pack

by Brant Parker III

Poem


The Track Adjustment

by Brant Parker III

Prose


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by Ted Jensen

Poem


Sgt. Reckless

by kimberly green

Array


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by Phil Hosier

Poem


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by Charles Fredette

Poem


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

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by Albert Hernandez

Prose


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by Ronald Nash

Poem


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by Ted Jensen

Poem


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Photograph


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by David Marchant

Poem


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by David Marchant

Poem