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Best Flying Poems

Below are the all-time best Flying poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of flying poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Flying Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Flying poems are below this new poems list.

Who's flying by Rios, Abdiel
Flying Bird by bajantri, jagdish
Float The Balloons In The Winds Of Flying Illusions by Vaillancourt, Chris G.
flying above the unkind by King, Marty
Flying Above Ground by Gulley, Sharon
honey bees are flying back wards by Osho, Francis
Flying High by Ellison, Jack
Flying angels by Ward, CS
Flying Swallows-------Haloo by Salehi, Pashang
Flying Freely by Becker, Stephen

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The Best Flying Poems

Details | Flying Poem | |

Autumn Reverie

Shifting haze, so slowly trailing
Through wood and field, now veiling
Melancholy skies, holding back the tears
With wild geese flying to meet other years.
Flames of crimson torches come flinging
Leaves on knarled branch swinging; 
Desolate winds rush leaping
Taking flowers to their final sleeping.
In the groaning of the atmosphere
Unfolding sorrows weep with the fading year;
Fields of cluttered stubble are tangled
With rampant weeds, dew drop spangled.
Flocks of birds leave like flying missiles
Over fields of corn and drying thistles;
Then my dream of autumn fades, paling
Through a grandeur all prevailing
When sunset fires light sky and sea
And sink in the breath of serenity.


Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011

More great poems below...


Details | Flying Poem | |

Freedom

In solitude I dream tonight
And watch a moth in fevered flight.

It’s drawn toward my quaint porch light
And flies consumed with all its might.

Through open window I can see
Its desperation shared with me;

How freedom in this world is light—
And we as souls are drawn to fight.

Though freedom’s light may cause our death,
It’s worth the risk with every breath.

I understand the moth’s sad plight
When drawn to the glorious light.

Though it knows not of human trust,
It buzzes on because it must!



Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

F-5 Tornado

The warm temperature drops outdoors,
    And first drops of fresh rain sprinkle.
      The thunder claps right above me,
         As lightening is striking afar.
         Dust is blowing in the wind,
         Trees are bending fiercely,
            A train horn blares,
              As the core nears me.
              Then sudden silence,
             A calm reappears.
              Electrical fires start,
               For a moment one
            Thinks it’s over,
             Then it starts
              Again quickly.
                 Passing by my  
                Home taking
                 My neighbors,    
                  Tin flying by,
                   The tornado
                      Fades, look                   
                         At all the
                            Damage.
                                 And I 
                                     Am
                                       Uns
                                              c
                                                  a
                                                       t
                                                            h
                                                        e
                                                           d.

My poem is about Tornadic weather and evokes
Water in, 'first drops of fresh rain sprinkle'
Wind in, 'Trees are bending fiercely'
Earth in 'Dust is blowing in the wind'
Metal in 'Tin flying by'
Fire in, 'Electrical fires start'

Feeling in 'The warm temperature drops outdoors'
Smell in 'First drops of fresh rain sprinkle'
Taste in 'Dust is blowing in the wind'
Sight in, Lightening is striking afar'
Hearing in 'A train horn blares'
_____________________________
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi's
Five Senses / Five Elements contest.

Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009


Details | Flying Poem | |

The Flight of Bebo

Bebo was a bird
who could not fly
He kept flapping his wings 
'cause he knew he must try

There were two other birds 
that were laughing at him
As he was jumping and flapping
up high on a limb

It must be so hard 
to be stuck in a tree
Said, those two silly birds
That were laughing at me

I do not like you
get out of my tree
Don't you have somewhere to go?
Don't you have somewhere to be?

Bebo then said
let me get back to my endeavor 
Or, I'll be stuck in this tree
forever and ever

He knows he's a bird
he eats worms and sings
He just needs a good breeze
to get under his wings

Bebo worked hard all week 
to get into the air
Then he started to cry
Yelling, this isn't fair

With tears down his cheeks
Bebo looked at the sky
He said, I know I'm a bird
so why can't I fly?

The wind then spoke out
and said, It's not how you try
You must climb to the top
You must get really high

Then open your wings
and face into me
I will help you find flight 
just get up there, you'll see

Bebo went to the top
of his lonely old tree
He opened his wings
and, waited to see

The wind then picked up
and, carried him high
Bebo was laughing with joy
'cause now he could fly

From that day on
Bebo was happy with flight 
He said goodbye to his tree
and, then he flew out of sight

Copyright © Roger Horsch | Year Posted 2013


Details | Flying Poem | |

ENGELBERT EFFLEFLUMP FOR DR SEUSS CONTEST

Engelbert Effleflump put on his disguise Climbed in his orcetector and rose in the skies For his mum hated flying and must never know That Engelbert’s job was in an aerial show Poor Engelbert hated deceiving his mother He’d go out of the house under cloud cover He’d loop the loop in pink polka dot skies Twirling in his orcetector each time he flies Over mountains of candy and lollipop trees Floating on green clouds and lemonade seas Only children knew his secret, they’d point with delight Look there goes Engelbert - he’ll be home by midnight! But disaster happened on one foggy day Poor Engelbert crashed at a flying display He was not badly injured - only his pride But how could he tell his mother he’d lied Unable to continue flying he told his mum of his work When she discovered his secret life, she went BERSERK She shook her gold furry arms high in the air Now confined to his room Engelbert did despair Engelbert begged and he pleaded, but she wouldn’t listen Tears formed in his orange eyes, oh how they did glisten That night he decided that he must simply be free Couldn’t live with his mother – how they did disagree Next morning he munched on his wigglerly grub Drank his foaming juice from the chocberry shrub He announced to his mother that he had a plan We would get a new job, become a delivery man Engelbert moved into a chocolate house He lives there with his purple pet mouse His new job lets him work at his own pace Delivering dreams to Effleflumps in outer space * an orcetector is a word that was made up by the little girl I used to be a private nanny to - she was just 2 years old and she couldn't say helicopter. Contest:- Children’s story Dr Seuss Style Sponsor:- Casarah Nance ~awarded 4th place~ 08~21~15

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


Details | Flying Poem | |

Horse From Mars

HORSE FROM MARS

It came from the sky, a gray silver stallion.
I looked up high, and I have also seen a dragon.

With so many things in this universe.
I'm on stand-by with a camera in my purse. 

Who would have known I'd be the first to spot a PEGASUS.
The town folks wave hi every time I walk my hippopotamus.

I enjoy showing everyone, my pictures of a flying horse.
I don't see why they call a DOCTOR every time I call the TASK FORCE

I think they are jealous over all the things I've seen.
They act all crazy since I sighted a LEPRECHAUN when I was fourteen.

No one ever believed me when I saw an army of dragonflies.
They have a name for me "the boy who See's too much in the skies!"

I don't know why they can't see what I see.
For all I know they are all experiments under Alien Technology.

They don't believe me how I got this magic MEDALLION.
It was a friendly gift from the silver stallion.

I also have many pictures of a  UNICORN.
We became best-friends when he gave me a piece of its magic horn.

We sat together while he drank from the lake.
We enjoyed talking, --talking about how U.F.O.'s are fake.

Why can't they see? The day I fell off a boat, I got rescued by a MERMAID!
Who would have known a mermaid swim around with first-aid.

I also remember the day I followed a LEPRECHAUNS.
We were playing under the rainbow having so much fun.

When I told my doctor about all the things I've seen.
He locked me in a DUNGEON, thinking I was the ALIEN QUEEN.

I begged and I told him I don't believe in any type of alien.
Too bad the master of this dungeon came from another region.

In a way he looks like that one SILVER STALLION from Mars.
The first creature I'd seen the day I fell off the monkey bars.

I have this picture of this horse of course.
JUST help me out of this white-jacket!!! ;-)
If you want to see the coolest picture of a flying horse. 

   ~SKAT~
       &
(A small collaboration with: B-Boy)

re-post for ~FUNNY CONTEST

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011


Details | Flying Poem | |

Please Give me Wings

Wash my heart and make it clean
Remove the grime from where it's been 

Take my idle hands make them yours
Use them to open holy doors

My cracked lips long to sing your praise
Be my Misto the rest of my days

Guide my calloused feet along your path
I wish to know Love and not your wrath

Take my arms place them around the poor
Help me realize I need less not more

Plant your precious thoughts in my mind
Change me from selfish make me kind

let me see your face with my eyes
Remove my ignorance make me wise

Apart from you I cannot be whole
Thank you for this reconditioned soul

One day my life will end I know that's true
Please give me wings so I can fly to you

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013


Details | Flying Poem | |

Faraway Queen

The moonbeams bore you in a cradle of light smiling   
warmly a cold blue winter moon rocking over and back thoughts

Midnight mystery howling to a silver reflection deeply echoes whispering winds
over Snow Mountain faraway dreaming stars twinkle in your treasure jewels 

Lost trying to catch your trail freedom inside love the spark igniting 
magic believing in a fairy tale ending dust in a thousand dreams enchanting


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015


Details | Flying Poem | |

Afraid To Fly

Life spins out of control…
today I slip into oblivion, floating without roots
over the sun, slowly turning from all I can see,
spinning against the wind, against the earth.
When do I fall?
                    I should be enjoying the ride.
                              I’ve always been afraid to fly…
                                       
 afraid of what’s below and all the spaces between –
                          maybe afraid of me.      
How old will I be when the spinning stops?
I’m getting dizzy, feeling faint…
Minute by minute, I count down – 10, 9, 8…
I’m surely not alone!

Words ground me…yes, I’ll write a poem.
Every letter’s like a hum in my head –
notes in a never ending song.

I’ll write a poem for you and only you.
A poem you’ll never read
               because you think you know me.

You think you know my song.
Perhaps, if you took the time to really read,
you’d find a little piece of me…carry it in your pocket
like a treasure to behold.

I’m spinning out of control…you don’t know, you don’t see.

Only God knows why…help me God enjoy the ride.    

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015


Details | Flying Poem | |

ANTHONY

An angel gave wings to you so you can fly
Never will life pass you by
Toward the sky you will guide
Hovering above the world so high
On a cloud you sit as other's sigh
Never will you fall from the sky
Your angels taught you how to fly

Copyright © Linda walden | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

And The Road Begins?

Mornings are dreadful time in life unless waking beside gorgeous woman hopefully 
a not married one  husbans can be such a downer.
And when ya wake to a warm beautiful creature by your side.
And the first thought that comes to your mind is i wonder whats for breakfest.

Then ya probaly cant read the menu to start with and desserve 
to have a oversized weight lifter re arrange your ribs.

Im a southern man once means several things  non of which means im normal.
And this morning finds my yerning for a trip and widespread  mischief.
My amigo had vanished after are trip south of the boarder I remember saying 
to myself as i watched him  running naked across the dessert  being chased 
by the flying monkeys  he was surley seeing after his consumption of a foreign substance 

There goes a fine american.

I would have ran after him  but  but i didnt want thoose things to turn there attention to me 
I herd they had a thing for southern  actscents.
And theres nothing  worse than a bunch of horney flying monkeys trust me 
Ive delt with this problem  befor.

and being it was happy hour i knew my slightly insane amigo would understand 
in all his naked glory.
Besides  I left him some sneakers  and a sixpack.
And kept his credit card for safe keeping.

Naked men have no place to keep credit cards and I figured he was in no state to handle 
money.

So as i sit  behind  the wheel  ready to to get lost in the madness of fast food and
  the ant hill of insanity that is wall mart i turn my thoughts to vegas.
For where would a lost nude slightly insane person  run to and feel at home.

I had turn the music up to drown out the sound of whoever was in the trunk.
I figured if i had put sombody in there  in a drunken moment.
It had to be for a good reason.

And so with slightly hungover mindset are road begins.
and so with that do the games also.
And i figured hanging around with a cops wife wasnt the smartest idea.
That and im allergic to bullets.

My muse and 16 year old spirtiual advisor had phoned me to say that.
I probaly needed to Invest in the spirt of Jack Daniels  today.
And hey she had went to church more than once  so who was I to argue.

With a five five spitfire by the name of tinker.
so with A unknown companion in the trunk not helping my hangover i was off
to the races  Untill next time kiddies. 
Adios and im off to find my amigo.

Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009


Details | Flying Poem | |

My How Time Flies

Since the elders often proclaim, my how time flies, 
You then naturally look up into the skies.
To study the heavens for at least one small sign,
From the horizon up to the tallest tree line.

Then suddenly, a flock of birds flitters about,
So you believe that you might have time figured out.
But when the old people mentioned, my how time flies,
They didn’t bring up birds; so is time in disguise?

As a carnival balloon, yes that’s it, you say,
Like the vanishing kind on a bright summer day.
But losing your own, is one of life’s biggest fears,
Since you don’t want to waste any time crying tears.

It’s possible that time is commuting by plane,
Which is surely the fastest speed time could attain.
But what good can that be when the planes out of sight,
Unless it quickly returns from its roundtrip flight?
 
Then is waiting around to see time such a waste,
When each day there are many affairs to be faced?
Then out of the blue a helicopter is seen,
And you reflect, maybe time is on that machine.

But as soon as a copter is here it’s gone by,
After noisily chopping the beautiful sky.
Although it’s very unlikely time takes that ride,
Unless it cannot hear, or ear plugs are supplied.

Wait a minute, I got it, time surfs over clouds;
If I could do the same all my friends would be proud.
And occasionally time would appear as rain,
But then an excess amount would go down the drain.

Then could time be a portion of air all the time,
To be breathed in, or to give life to a wind chime?
Though, is that really flying like old people claim?
It seems all my guesses are exactly the same.

Well, after a long life of thinking and trying,
To figure out the ways that time could be flying,
In heaven, by feather, or motor, as vapor,
Yet, not one of those ways can be proved on paper.

Until recently, when I looked in the past,
The answers were there for those time questions asked.
That time really flies, though it takes time to see,
That a lifetime of living, is the real key.

And now I tell the young, that time truly flies,
But don’t bother looking up into the skies.
Time earns its wings every day, inside the mind,
And can only be seen, when looking behind!

David Fisher for Impress Me-Iambic Meter Contest
Philosophical motif

Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

the day you flew to Heaven


           We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time 
              hearing the news before most of the World did
           He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
           He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected 

           He had loves and passions from many places 
           deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
            Not only did he love music and inspire all 
            He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul

              The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened 
             It was John Denver's plane that went down
             Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial 
             So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
              always in loving memory 
               OH babe ,  do we hate you go ~    
                            
    

         Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
                   "Leaving on a Jet Plane "
             

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013


Details | Flying Poem | |

A Moment, Luminous

Tumbling, over the timeworn stones I'll fly in a kingdom of the winds Far from here, I am bathed by the moon, washed at midnight by radiant light I will soar, in the clarion dawn, free-falling over the edge of earth While cool mist, washed in splintered sunlight, lets me be a shadow of myself
_______________________________________________ 10/30/14 For Nette's Contest: Crystalline By Carrie Richards

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

Hidden Mountains

A solo pilot, lost in snow,
in a jagged mountain pass.
His eyes are trained upon each tree,
and the shape of each crevasse…
In an open-cockpit time machine,
the winter wind does howl,
but a mighty fire’s burning bright,
inside the engine cowl.
The fog and flurry blinding him,
he searches for a trail,
running late, and miles behind,
he’s employed to fly the mail.
He looks for clues to lead him back,
like ancient, sunken wagon tracks.
A mumbled cuss, then shouts out loud,
he’s heard that mountains hide in clouds…   
Now’s the time to pay the toll,
for conversations with his soul.
One way in, and one way out,
it’s true that mountains hide in clouds.
 
Copyright © 2013
 

Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013


Details | Flying Poem | |

Natural Instinct

         Three Sonnets tell a story, in sequence.
[From the narrative poem, "Don't Go to Wyoming Alone"]

         I. Natural Instinct  (Chivalric Sonnet)

He saves a wad of cash and designates
the stash to finance trek in far-off land
in hunting boots and custom gun he built 
for me with love and hope for trophy grand.

"Is this a trip I've dreamed about?" I ask.
"Can I enjoy the hunt, savor the kill?"
I contemplate the danger in that land -
will heat, dry thirst and bugs defeat my will?

Might this be atmosphere I cannot stand?
Excitement builds as I heft gun with ease
and find the answer soon on target range
as my bull's eye displays my expertise.

Though I have no inborn instinct to kill,
my reason tells me not to waste this skill.

               II. Lost Vacation  

Our trip is planned, we'll soon be on our way,
he's called and found the perfect spot to stay.
The husband leads you out to hunt the wild
as room is cleaned, clothes pressed, wife cooks gourmet.

Alas, things change, his current bent is new.
While Mom and I go west without a clue
he flies the skies to satisfy desire
from Air Force days where first the hunger grew.

But circumstance forced him to stay aground,
our funds were tight and kept him budget bound.
Since children now are wed and off the corn
he's free to choose to play or bum around.

When we return from trek out west by train,
he's spent vacation cash to buy a plane.




              III. New Dimension (Couplet Sonnet)

What fun we've had in years of golden age
as we, in freedom's row, our thirsts assuage.

We climb above the ground in utter glee
and view the earth below from Cherokee.

We join a pilot's group and meet new friends.
We travel now as time and space portends.

Each time we fly we bring two more because
two empty seats invite our friend's' applause.

But soon we build a smaller home down south.
I close my ears as words come out his mouth,

"The plane's for sale, I need a tractor now
to plow off snow and grade the road."  It's how

our trip to Africa, in quickened time,
became a tractor.  Surely, that's a crime.


Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

To Soar

Gone are the days of childlike hope and dreams.
Our tender years were cast on life's broad streams.
Rich mem'ries float on waters still serene, 
while thoughts drift past the seasons in-between.

That final bend of river not yet seen, 
we set out seeking vistas new and clean,
where aging frame and psyche' still burn bright,
made strong and sharp as blades in morning's light.

We'd dream and see realities yet new.
Our aging forms, set free, would test as true
those aptitudes and skills not proved since youth.
The vision, quite sublime, has become truth.

We'd run the race as when young, full of drive,
to sense a new resolve, to feel alive.
The blood and air would surge deep in our chest,
hearts striving one more time to be the best.

Perhaps, we'd stand on mountain tops and view
our world and all its peoples kind and true.
If foes of that time bid earth-mates good will,
we'd aim from common fate all strife to still.

And, when the course of each life had been run, 
we'd pray wise God affirms all was well done,
while setting each soul free from fated slings
he bids us soar on air that yields to wings.

                                     To Soar

Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015


Details | Flying Poem | |

Baxter Bug and the Purple Orb

Baxter was born in a meadow 
under a rotting plank
with hundreds of brothers and sisters
in a home both darkly and dank.

His momma was a June bug 
and he was a June bug too,
schooled in all the sorts of things
that June bugs love to do.

The time had come for him to fly 
and leave his happy home,
his momma went to the book case
and pulled out a well worn tome.

She read from a chapter called "Hazards" 
to each of her children dear,
"Stay clear of birds when you’re flying 
or you won't last out the year."

"And one more thing that you should know, 
and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."

So he left his home behind him, 
went flying all around,
he saw some birds in the tree tops
and headed right for the ground.

After landing in the tall grass 
he met a stink bug named Dwight
who told him wonderful stories
of an orb so purple and bright.

"Forget now what your mother said, 
I'm here to set you straight,
the orb is just a doorway,
you know, it's like a gate."

"When you enter into its brightness 
you're magically swept away
to a lovely world of happiness
where forever you can stay."

So Baxter started searching, 
he looked both high and low
and if he found the purple orb
straight to it he would go.

But the light was very clever, 
it kept its secret well,
poor Baxter kept on looking
as if he was under a spell.

Finally on an August eve 
just as darkness was appearing
he spotted a distant purple glow
across a meadow's clearing.

"It must be the orb,” he said to himself, 
so he flew with all his might
across the meadow with all due speed
towards that beautiful purple light.

Soon he hovered before it 
and bathed in its eerie glow,
what wonders lay in store for him
his mind could scarcely know.

Gathering up his courage 
into the purple light he sped,
crackle and zap was all he heard
as he fell to the ground near dead.

He lay in a growing pile 
of other bugs who'd seen
a purple orb up in the sky,
but it wasn't what it seemed.

So if you meet a stink bug 
who goes by the name of Dwight
don't believe the tales he tells
of a beautiful purple light.

Remember what Baxter's momma said, 
"and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."

Copyright © John Summers | Year Posted 2006


Details | Flying Poem | |

WINGING BY


Sequined fireflies winging lightly by into grassland ablaze, they swirl on moon's romance of a dream buoyant as crepe lanterns throwing gold stardust on my damp cheeks; night magic... blow a wish! Freddie V's Contest Never published NONET

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

I'm Superman

I'm an alien from Krypton and I'm able to fly.
I'm Superman and bullets don't make me die.
Bombs, tanks and nuclear weapons can't kill me either, I'm invulnerable.
I save at least fifty people every day, that's amazing and it's pretty cool.
Usually, the only thing that can kill me is Kryptonite.
But I did die when Doomsday and I had a massive fight.
We beat each other to death but I was able to return.
My death made many cry, I was touched by their concern.
I have X-ray vision and I can see through everything except lead.
Lex Luthor hates my guts and he says he won't rest until I'm dead.
Last week there was a forest fire and I put it out with my ice breath.
When I got through blowing on that fire, there was none of it left.
I can also make laser beams come out of my eyes.
When people see me, they say "There's the man who flies."
I have a girl who I love more than life itself, her name is Lois Lane.
When I'm Superman, she's nice but when I'm Clark Kent, she's a pain.
Some people call me a miracle but I don't think that's true.
If you're ever in danger, just call my name and I'll save you.

(This poem is based on the DC Comic Book that was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

The Unfortunate Singer

My friend Quigley likes to sing
And really almost any thing.
Though once her high note
Caused a blackbird to float,
Back to earth less one wing.

Copyright © Richard Breese | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

Healed Wings

A beautiful way of questioning
With pen and paper you empart
Although you think that you are broken
You have been gifted a perfect heart

Your spirit sheds its perfect diamonds 
We have each witnessed them in your tears
You have experienced so much loss
Today you are wise beyond your years

To come to know you is our pleasure
For you are a person who is real
You are still living life with purpose
Yet you still allow yourself to feel

Yes, one day you will have your comfort
What is broken will be fully healed
The pain will give way to joyfullness 
As the answers to you are revealed

Yesterday flows into tomorrow 
As life's river travels it full length
You were born to fly high above it
As you are lifted on wings of strength!


Inspired by and written for Broken Wings.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


Details | Flying Poem | |

LITANIES REHEARSING ADIEU


LITANIES REHEARSING ADIEU Soft wheezes from crossbills and mistrel fusion pluck refrains from May blooms, train litanies rehearsing adieu pause unto biting cold out stretched wings to soar high! _______________________________________ ACTUAL FORM: Waltz Wave 1/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/3/4/3/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/1 syllables ***Sponsor Kim Merryman Contest Name Shall We Waltz? ++Placed 5th++ O.E. GUillermo 10:22 pm, June 13, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015


Details | Flying Poem | |

Soul Fly

I wish to stroke my soul
       as to awaken it 
       from its dormant state

 releasing it 
   so that it might transcend 

into the sky and beyond
      past the moon 
      and all the stars

penetrating the borders of the galaxy

leaving the universe 
       
escaping time...
(forever eternal)

Copyright © Erica Kishpaugh | Year Posted 2014


Details | Flying Poem | |

I TANGO WITH THE WINDS

                        

                              +
                              U
                              p
                             to
                        the blue
               cotton - candy clouds 
         in  my pretty rainbow dress, I 
       softly sing along with the anthem 
 of Western Winds.  Airy and light, I'm lured-
      being  invited  to  sway  so  slow,
       swirling in intimate tango with 
            the cool - sweet breeze. 
                 Breathing anew, I
                  clamor for more, 
                   I dip and dive.
 With snaps in my tail, I soar high! High
    like a ship sailing the playful tides 
      of the blowing winds, mounting
           from   lows ~ to ~ peaks
              but as the wind rest
                     to relax
                        I fell
                         down
                           too,
                              /
                             f
                              a
                                L
                                  L, 
                                 /
                                b  
                              u
                                 t 
                                  \
                                   a
                                    s 
                                  /   
                                n
                               e
                                 w
                                      w
                                        i
                                        n
                                       d
                                      /
                                    g
                                  u
                                  s
                                   t
                                    s,
                                      \
                                I
                                      /
                                    r
                                   i
                                  s
                                   e
                                   \     
                                    a
                                     n
                                       d 
                                       /   
                                      r
                                    u
                                     n 
                                    /
                                    t
                                     o
                                    the 
                                heavens
                                  I dare 
                                     to 
                                     go
                                      !
                                      /   
                                    To 
                                    my 
                                 Master,
                                I will  be
                                attached,
                              forevermore.
________________________________________________________________

SPONSOR: Broken Wings
Contest Name: Creative Layouts
~~1st Place~~


O.E. Guillermo
6:08 pm, October 20, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015