Decima Wraxall Poet Free verse

Risks

RISKS
Scarred hills, risked mine shafts, dark and deep. 
The plonk of a stone,  dropped into water, far below.
Kids drifted to sounds of the gold-rush, pick and windlass.

But inside our school, Sir recruited afternoon classes into 
battle. We piloted Spitfires, strafing Messerschmitts. Bingo! 
The plane aflame, out of control. Drifting down, down. A spiral 
of smoke. 

Our teacher paced, face aglow. Alive to the tremble, the thrill,
in distant summer skies.
Windscreen hit, the scatter of shattered
glass. His odyssey of courage and blood …

At three thirty, older boys reminded Sir, 
Time to go home.
Surprise in our mentor’s eyes . 
His Spitfire hadn’t even landed.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Lacey Jones March 3, 2024 at 2:57 PM This poem is incredible. The message, the imagery, the style, word choice, building a scene and giving the characters life...I felt like I was watching a movie and was as surprised as "Sir" was to realize this was a skit. Thank you, Decima. Decima Wraxall March 3, 2024 at 9:44 PM Thank you, Lacey, for your comments. It's always a thrill to know that the poem worked as I'd hoped. Sir never did get to land that plane!