Iraqi Knight
by Ted L Glines

Blaze the night, rocket grenade,
tension and fear on stark parade.
Sergeant yells, "Bogey on your right!"
bright lines of tracers spoiling your sight.
Stuttering blinks, concentrated fire,
rocket burst makes funeral pyre.
Nothing but sweat and cordite stink,
rapid fire now, hear the casings click.
A slap and a grunt from your brother friend,
your buddy's gone; gone to his end.
Screams of pain from your far right,
death grips the heart of Iraqi Knight.
Call in the choppers before it's too late,
insurgents screaming a  curse of hate.
Too long 'til dawn, we die here now,
gotta survive but don't know how.
Too black to see the bodies go down,
as fire meets fire on explosive ground.
Heart like a high speed metronome,
"Baby, think  of me, I'm going home!"
War is hell and that's no lie,
Goin out screaming, “Semper Fi!”

Kids Song
by Ted L Glines

Two
four
six
eight
take careful aim
expectorate

why would someone
take the time
to write this rilly
silly rhyme

three o'clock
I'm not in bed
this stupid song
plays in my head

all the children
love to rhyme
with things that end
in snot or slime

It's surely dumb
but not a sin
and “Oh oh”
here we go again

ate the peas
and cleaned the plate
now hold your gut
regurgitate

giggle

Intermission
by Ted L Glines

She's been married several times
abused - damaged - beyond all tears
then one great marriage - he died badly
and now she's free from all those years
what must she do with  that?

He's been married badly twice
entombed himself behind his wall
until she came and smashed it down
and now he's at her beck and call
what must he do with that?

Now the break for freedom comes
her house of memories is sold
his retirement - coming due
they might do something really bold
what must they do with that?

All those years have taught them much
life has been a frightful flurry
days of peace are cherished now
they've learned to not be in a hurry
and only Fate may work on that.

Author's Notes: This  is one of my softer poems and  it is dedicated to Patty - who is  such a little girl in many ways, but a little  girl who has been  through hell and kicked the devil to the curb. Perhaps this  poem  defined a moment - an "intermission riff" - between the known past  and the  unknown future. Heck, anyone who has the audacity to send  me an  "almost-gummy-rat" and then giggles about it - certainly  deserves a poem.