The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature

Betty O’Hearn: Three Poems

Poetry

A Student to Remember

I stood outside, waiting for the last to arrive.
He stepped out of the blue Honda,
tall and blonde, body chiseled,
carrying a huge piece of luggage.

As he walked close, his smile gave way
He called me “Ma’am”.
He was the most handsome of the class
a Navy seal, the best of the best.

Two days later I entered the barracks
He was walking from the “head, just from the shower,
His white towel hung low on his waist.

I sat at my desk to review the schedule of the day
On his bunk I noticed a 12-inch foam topper,
The lid to the suitcase was up revealing
an interesting selection of hand weapons.

He caught my eye looking and I lowered my head
In a second he was standing in front of me
This man with the 6-pack abs, offering me
a cup of coffee from his self-contained French press.

**

Afghan Village

Fierce warlords, proud buy weary tribes,
Their country has been filled with wars for thousands of years
Not even Alexander the Great could conquer them/

The village leader, a proud Taliban
worries for his people, spreads news of Jihad
This is our country, and we have no choice.

Children with wide eyes, and empty bellies,
Women ravaged by war and worry
Proud but worn, this is their country.

**

Beach Walk

Waves touch lightly; salt air fills my lungs,
Daybreak brings nights treasures,
Tides come and go leaving their mark.

The beach is waking up,
Small holes, at waters edge burp,
Sand oozing between toes.

Early beach walkers begin to arrive,
Carrying their favorite mug of coffee,
Aromas blend of sea and sand.

Beach walks present treasures,
Different from yesterday,
Blessed, is what I am.