I was an air traffic controller, a Marine, and now retired. I'm from Texas, but now live in Alabama.
Growing up in North Texas during the 1940’s and ‘50’s, simply hearing that mind-spinning word, “Circus” was magic of its own making. Everyone felt it; the excitement, the surprise and the promise of an impending visit...
In your mind’s eye, conjure up, if you can, a huge, gothic, 19th-century house, sitting on a hill with moonlit silver clouds illuminating and amplifying its spooky features, and with bats flying in and out of the soffits.
I was six years old when I discovered the place. It was foul smelling and awful. My mother was very liberal in allowing me to wander through the confines of our small community, exploring whatever sparked my interest. However, the blacksmith shop was different. It was hot, dirty and dangerous...
Gunny Grip had been installed as mascot by a previous C.O., and no one had the guts, or the heart, to challenge his appointment. He had always been a source of pride for our Marine Barracks, and that, of course, meant that Gunny was a full-fledged Marine in good standing, and was therefore accorded all of the honors and privileges associated with his rank.
A Vietnam era plane crash and its terrible aftermath, described by a reluctant witness....
Learning everything from a woman who had nothing
A man reflects on mistakes within his marriage and life and loses both to something unnatural.
Poem about the struggle of life
A man tries to save a woman's life, but gets caught up in a life and death situation of his own.
A poem describing the perpetuity of nature and its innate drama
A military aircraft with a pregnant woman on board cannot get help
A poem about the South and one of its inhabitants
Animals depend on humans for literally everything. In return, they give their all.
Ode to my tractor - more than just a tool, it's really me.
Descriptive: A young boy growing up in a small town in Texas in the 1940's
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