By Dennis Patton

EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE

I always put a leash on her So she won’t run loose.

But I still can’t control her, To try to is no use.

She has the leash around my legs In about a half a minute.

I guess she thinks I’m a top

And it’s her duty to spin it.

She is just a little toy poodle;

Tho small, she’s very stout.

She pulls so hard on the leash

I feel she’s going to pull my arm out.

If she’s not on the leash,

She’ll run to the road or woods. She won’t come when I call; Tho, she knows she should.

So to keep her safe from harm, I hang onto her tight;

And sometimes, believe me, It takes all my might.

— Becky Townsend

Benton

BUYING POWER

Past Pelican Beach, across the narrows, Lies Olivia’s landing, irresistible by day (How blue the sky!), a winking beacon Come nightfall. Olivia Anderson, many Say, along with Carabella Claymore, Claimed this water view of the Gulf, two Prudent ladies, led beyond Willow Lane, Purchasing their destinies—as free as High-flying gulls.

A wood ridge of magnolias decorates Whispering timbers, which contour the Journey of the coastline, and when stargazers, shell searchers, or sandy castle Builders extend their stay, who complains? “Share your happiness!” some cry, then The winds echo back to the mainland A song of sea breeze and starlight, sun, And an association with life.

— Jane Hutto

Pensacola, FL

FOR MRS. P

Meme, you have ruffles on your ears,

The words to me were magic expression of my years.

Ruffles are so pretty while wrinkles sound so old. Her hands caressed the ruffles, giving beauty to my soul.

I felt a little younger, a girl all wrapped in lace. Dancing all around the floor, with ruffles round my face.

Exquisite magic moments to hold and feel and store, To take out when the world turns black and ruffles are no more.

— Betty Heidelberger

Deceased

WHAT’S HAPPENING BRO

You struck me

Not with your hand

You amazed me

Not with diamonds

You flattered me

Not with wings

You talked to me

Like we hadn’t talked in years Something’s changed

Not your clothing exactly

But … You

— Jessica Gray

Benton

TEARS HE DRIED

If God still bottles our tears recording them in heaven’s book according to the writings of the psalmist my bottle is tall and full of salt.

— Faye Boyette Wise Deceased

HAIKU

early March in the white-rock patio a dandelion blooming — Pat Laster Benton

To submit poems for publication, please send poems of 16 or fewer lines to Dennis Patton, 2512 Springhill Circle, Alexander, AR 72002, or patton_dr@hotmail. com. The Saline County Branch of PRA is scheduled to meet March 25, 1:00 pm, at the Parkview United Methodist Church, 514 North Border Street, Benton.