The Poetry Wars Part 1

Andy, pass the cigs I said with nervous laughter First he tossed the pack Then tossed the matches after My hands were shaking so I couldn't get a light But it was time to go On our early morning flight Captain Fate, the legend Just standing debonair Andy puffed his cigarette As if he didn't care When the ground crew, gave the signal That our planes were fit and ready We all walked to our cockpits Some sure and proud and ready Others like myself Dragged our feet and moved real slow Like a child that tries to walk Hip deep in frozen snow. The smell of fuel and oil Filled the warming twilight air And a feeling came upon me Like I wasn't even there I felt like I was watching Myself climb to my seat Until a voice, drew me back It was my old buddy, Pete He was standing on the ground Reaching up, to shake my hand Then he ran to his plane Through the smoke and blowing sand The engines roared so fiercely As they taxied in a line Then turning in the wind And waiting for the sign There we stood that day Like time and time before Determine in out hearts To win this Poet's War Andy, Pete, Fate and me Formed the Ninety Ninth Quatrain Of the Hundred and Thirty Second Poetry rhyming squadron To Be continued