I’ve been to war
It wasn’t fun
Very sad.
I bought a rose once
For a boy
My wife.
He got a rose
When all he wanted
was velvet.
Who am I to say
When he will come back
If he will come back at all?
Winter is the wolves running to the woods.
They’re a lot like wives that way. Listen
To them eat fried chicken and mashed
potatoes, split a green apple, then
God gallops in with the cavalry.
Ma’m, move along – Sir,
you too. Mister Lord
Almighty kiss
Paradise
Hello.
poems