top of page

February Poetry



Farmer, gentleman, Founding Father,

Soldier, statesman, éminence grise,

He who served when called, when strength was needed

who volunteered to lead us forth.


Revolutionary, citizen, confounder to the King

Patriot general to his army, he suffered winter’s sting,

Leader of our infant nation, setting precedent

teaching those who followed after, how to be President.


That he might die for others to live

Is not a time for sorrow,

He spent his life, his time on Earth

for nation, for tomorrow.


Two centuries after he has passed

he’s treated with respect,

Recalling his example set

we follow it, lest we forget.


David Balford, New London NH




He sits quietly and ponders, rubbing his jaw

Thinking of the tales with something of awe…

‘How can my teeth – or serious lack thereof –

Become a topic of great interest’ he asks the above.

But God doesn’t answer, likely smiles at mans quirks

Knowing more important things are in need of his work.

George snickers at rumors of his teeth made from wood

Who would think that practical? No one wise ever would!

Consider them wet, warping while in his mouth during meals,

How ridiculously uncomfortable that would make him feel!

No, his dentist developed dentures with such consideration in mind

For use and for comfort - and let’s not forget what he could find.

Materials such as Ivory - a favorite – or brass, both the norm,

Or gold, when ocassions called for a smile and fancier form.

So as George sits reminiscing over the focus of his teeth

Little did he know the wrong stories that would keep

Through the years and become one of many inaccurate lore

Of things that were skewed in the telling and more…

Makes one wonder, at times, which stories are true,

And he considers this thinking how past tales always grew.

Historians at the time, oft wrote stories with their personal view

Not considering the need to be accurate when sharing “the facts”

Ah, time is a great teacher, examples or tales with so many extracts

But reminiscing again, we think of George Washington our first Pres. elect

Who for one, was also remembered for false dentures - but what the heck??

S. J. Little, Newbury NH




My name is George Washington. I am twelve

years old. It was a sad summer for me.

My father died and my grief I had to shelve

as much older siblings said, “mother, she


needs you.”  I inherited hundreds of acres and

ten slaves, who I wanted to quickly free

but the plantation needed workers

to run it, a problem I could already foresee.


My formal education came to a halt

but my thirst for knowledge grew.

I was lord of the manor by default

yet self-education I did pursue.


So this summer I became a man

believing surely it was all in God’s plan.


Dianalee Velie, Newbury NH






Ah; Col. Tilghman,the best of aides,sharp with a pen,yet, could handle a blade.


Ned was his horse,clever and smart,always listening,offering a remark.

They’d get to arguingthe Colonel and Ned,during long marcheslike a couple long wed.


Many an hour passed,as we moved at a canterlistening to the twoargue and banter.Ned often won,getting the Colonel’s goatthen he’d whinny,a long horsey gloat.

I raise a glass to Col. Tilghman and Ned,whom I hope to see again after I’m dead.


Douglas King, Newport NH




George, a Founding Father, that is who I am,yes, the first born nephew of Uncle Sam.


About the cherry tree, I cut down, who lies?

Crossing the Delaware River, afloat I watched the sunrise.


Needing people on our side, I commissioned the Culper Ring.

To lure the Brits from the coast it was I who ran the sting.


I led my troops in battle, at Valley Forge we frozeand starved, but held together to defeat our foes.


Birthing a new nation to welcome those who flee,

E Pluribus Unum, yearning to be free.


Patsy Barrett-King, Newport NH





Washington’s breath freezes in the dark unheated cabin

Reason would have him surrender to disease and the enemy

He rallies his underfed, sick, ragged Continental army to do the impossible

Future American soldiers answer the call and paid the consequences


My brother’s ear was opened to remove a tumor winding around his acoustic nerve

A chochlear implant now conducts sound

His tumor was seeded in Viet Nam jungles, along water ways sprayed with defoliants

A remnant of war, that went to war with his neurons


His eyes now hear the ground and balance his body

He teaches himself to walk and move like a ballerina who fixes on a point

His neurons fire all day, keeping him moving, walking, cooking

Steel crania plates sound the alarm of high pressure, storm brewing


The hush of woods, fresh snow, swish of fall leaves transforms him

He becomes a kid

Exploring Lake Massabesic or climbing ledges of Tower Hill

No need for conversation that might trigger a stammer


Attention to detail and patience mark his days

Pen and ink drawings express his heart

His dog has become companion and touch stone

His pie crusts are browned to perfection folded over pheasant fresh from the fields


Kathleen Skinner Shulman, New London, NH




I didn’t go away to school, maybe I didn’t want to.

Writing was hard. I wrote in my Sketchbooks, learned 

by copying Virginia law and translating from French

110 Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior. 


I kept a journal of my comings, goings, weather, but

nothing really of myself, my hopes, my dreams.

Years pass and I do other’s biddings. My father 

died when I was eleven. 


I went from practicing the curls

of letters to sending men into 

battle in ten years. I did not 

chop down the cherry tree.


I did escape to the fields to

fish and hunt and I always

wished to return home. Yet 

when I was called, I went.


Yes, I owned slaves but treated them kindly.

Yes, I ‘bought’ Indian’s land, yet I sought 

their wisdom. I felt the need 

to own more, to do more.


Many people have said I was

wise, courageous, kind, selfless.

I was appointed to my first post at 16, 

served in war, in government, and finally as President. 


I don’t think I was necessarily 

more qualified or did a better job. 

I just kept going, kept taking on 

more responsibilities. 


I kept many things to myself: the pain 

of my teeth, the sadness of no blood heirs, 

my individual beliefs, my dyslexia—Hamilton even 

wrote my farewell presidential speech.


I ask you to remember me 

for my love of family, 

and duty to country.


Jennie Pollard, Windsor, VT








I did not say

what we had given you was perfect—

I did not say

our words were carved in rigid stone—


I did not say you would not struggle,

nor you would not face profound divisions.

I did not promise you, beyond our yearning hope

for what a borning nations’s dreams could realize.


But I did say,

Through unity, we triumph.

I did say,

Extremes enslave.


Joan T. Doran, New London NH





Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page