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My Father did not plant fruit trees
or a garden with any sort of vegetable,
like a tomato plant, or peppers.

It was I that planted, harvested all of that.

His example did not lodge with me
never having flown down from the sky
wrapped in a fighter plane

machine guns blazing towards a ground confined enemy
they there, trembling in fear, hiding from
his bullets and bombs thrown while in God’s bubble.

I loved him so, yet my path differed

the healing arts chose me as sure as water churns in rapids
born unafraid of cleaning up lacerations, wiping blood from torn flesh
when someone’s life was seeping away

staunching the flow
with giving a damn ever present, it was
acceptable risk to be in combat with purulent infection.

He was a great man even having never planted a plum tree

his bravery and deciding loving family decisions made
did lodge with me, so it is now that he is gone
as it was when he, my best friend was still here amongst us

his courage tempered my abundant compassion
like the wind rippling the fall colors
in an autumn high plains field.

I can’t fly a fighter plane
or command a tactical sortie in dive bombing a bridge

I have come home with blood on my scrubs tho
bearing stains from other’s wounds, having worked
like a mule plowing furrows, towards healing Life’s casualties

and I have planted plum trees, some were for him
his face peering out from the green leaves
feeling his hands on the shovel with mine.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
Looking out over autumn colors in a field in Colorado…. Inspiration came from my green haired muse.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


is a well thought out piece. It shows the relationship of a father and son relationship that diverges from one and other, yet gives the impression of a son that cared deeply for his father. The author feels that his father would have approved and respected his son's reservations about war and the services that he chose to render, rather than outright refusal to serve. I love that the mention of feeling of his father's hands on the shovel, means that he felt his father's wish to be happy for his son and the path that he chose. The choice of title seems a little brusque, but serviceable. I like the theme and the language is good. This felt logically consistent throughout to the very end. ~ Geez.

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Your interps were spot on.

Was really enjoying watching the wind moving thru the multicolored grasses of the high prairie yesterday evening; when I stopped (like urgently) to pen this. After the initial writing, no major edits were done, so the above is pretty much what came out when ite came out. I hate editing anyway, really, however know it’s a nec. evil in many instances.

Part of the delight of writing poems is that i never know what is going to come out!

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author comment

in giving the particulars of the story and it wasn't a task to interpret the meaning. I agree about not knowing what is going to come out. I usually have an idea about how the story starts out and maybe how I figure it will end; but it doesn't always work out that way. Sometimes, after the first few lines, the poem takes a very different turn and goes off on its' own, leaving me bewildered as to how the hell did that happen? ~ Geez.

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$100 prize and one-year full premium!
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wonderful poem. i saw your comment about seeking venues. i often get notifications about poetry contests, at prestigious reputable places. many have a small fee to enter but big money prize(s). rattle recently had one with a prize of 15,000 bucks. i did not win it lol. i seldom pay a fee or enter contests, i just started submitting hoping to get single poems published, poems requiring no fee to submit. i would be glad to pass these along to you. my email is [email protected] if you care to give me yours. or even better if you are on face book i can pass them on that way.

It was I (that) planted, harvested all of (that.) two too close thats

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