In Place of
In place of
my head I prefer to have a
small plastic warship with a
level deck for
the setting in motion and
landing of
toy aircrafts.
Afternoon ember flare coddles forest
Nodule noses, from dark bark eyes sap drips
Naked soldiers, Summer’s subside promised
Farewell foliage, spun fairy floss gossip
News spew swept red runaway train carriage
Ridiculed witches watch fireworks astral
Rudimentary broom aircrafts encourage
Twilight wake creatures creep from log capsules
Twitching whiskers, dusk susurrate translate
Trampled damp mushrooms mulch to mildew fleece
Orange fungi full moon balloon inflate
Hot flight flame exhales exhausting release
Grey limb wind tortured troops groan, familiar
Guards gravely wait for Winter’s insignia
31st August
Written for Contest:
Whispers of Autumn
Sponsor: John Lawless
Boeing Max, so lax leaves wobbly screws,
Nuts and bolts lazily left nigh loose,
That, angels if at all,
Can save poor flyer’s soul,
Wonder if cooked up has Boeing’s goose!
And he that whistle blew,
Struck was with bolt from blue,
What’ll happen to rest of nuts, I muse.
___________________________________
Happenings |19.01.2024|
Poet’s Note: Alaska Air, whose Max 9 aircraft has already met with many accidents, recently found loose blots on many of its Boeing 737 Max 9 aircrafts following the midair blowout of a panel on its plane. Luckily, the aircraft landed safely, and its CEO said: there was ‘a guardian angel’ on the flight!
Modified in May 2024 after the whistle-blowing employee of Boeing suddenly died. He was the true guardian angel.
Early morning, the coconut tree climber came to our garden,
He would tether his ankles with rope, and climb up the tall tree,
He will make some dents on tree at top, and extract the sap,
The sap, “Neera”, would be saintly healthy drink first,
After a few hours it would become toddy beer for adults.
For religious minds, coconut is offered in every Hindu ritual,
Birthdays, prayers, weddings, christening of cars to aircrafts,
A coconut must be broken as a good omen,
The coconut water and nuts can be very appetizing,
Coconut oil is a good sunscreen, you can even use it as cooking oil.
Some evangelists lose souls
while trying to win arguments.
Some preachers lose real goals
while trying to win compliments.
Some try to twist timeless truth
because holiness seems too hard.
Some turn the temple to a booth
where they cheapen God's standard.
Some promote tithe and offerings
to buy aircrafts and build cathedrals.
Some ignore congregants' sufferings,
sinking souls are used as collaterals...
Some leaders sugar-coat bitter pills
to find favour before wealthy men.
They drag dying men from God's hills
and drop them in Satan's eternal den.
Wake up now, o sleeping pilgrim!
God will soon purge His church.
Come now to the healing stream,
ask the Lord for a second touch.
Lies in the large area of Atlandic deep
Betwixt Florida, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda
A creepy, frightening, and mysterious reef
Formed the devil's triangle above atoll Barbuda
The heavily travelled shipping lanes of the globe
Where vessels vanished in mystic circumtances
Region where aircrafts routinely fly over and rove
But skippers and aviators still believe in chances
With the shot in the arm of weather satellites fly
Seen and noticed the unusual hexagonal clouds
Experts in atmospheric phenomena decrypt the sky
Hoped to save from deadly blast of water-air shrouds
Precioso Tano
May 13, 2017
Aircrafts
Pilots are spied from the moment they sit down to fly an airplane
and till they land the plane. This must be a heavy psychological
burden and for some pilots intolerable, so they plot a way to avoid
all Seeing Eye, these constant observations. Wish is to navigate
a route that has not been staked out by the none flying expert
Airline pilots are not brain surgeons to flying not a big deal, but carries
a great reputation yet they are not free hands tied by rules, so they
plot courses to avoid the eye that record the tiniest of farts.
One pilot succeeded he altered course and so far he has been able to
a keep his secret. To pilot a modern airplane is as easy as to drive
a smart car, we now this but we have to keep up the illusion after all
when a plane falls out of the sky the pilot too dies.
The sunset sky, stretched far & wide
Radiant with the glow of the setting sun;
So romantic & charming.
Hand-in-hand came two young lovers,
Locking lips passionately, cuddling each other,
And muttered those fragrant words-
“I love you darling! ”
The terrible sounds of the explosive war-hounds
Intimidating the people to die
Heaps of cadavers laid down in tiers,
Kill & be killed-
That’s the wish to be fulfilled
Ridiculing the value of life;
For, war is an immortal fear!
Mighty air-raids, adding to the number of dead
Young soldiers obliterated in a minute,
Mercilessly slaughtered by the nation;
Aircrafts crashing to ground with such deadly speeds-
Only shows the amount of insurmountable greed
Man has inflicted upon himself,
Wiping out the possibility of a next generation.
But, the hapless martyrs still open their fires
And take it to their hearts liking,
To lay down with a defeated sigh-
The blood-stained clouds mourn the closing of blossoming flowers,
And offer their prayers with soul-touching showers,
Uniting with the mothers’ cry-
That’s the legend of the sunset sky!
While taking a stop-over
my timepiece ticks . . .
meant to stand up already
to enable my entry to the aircraft.
It seems passengers abound
with their carry-on bags
Men and women alike
in a hurry to get inside.
Other gates seem busy too
calling passengers to board.
Some have problems to resolve
to get a seat and be part of the group.
The weather holds no promise at all
that those aircrafts can fly soon.
Rains and thunderstorms
threaten all kinds of transportation.
One, two, three . . . counting the time of waiting
no certainty as yet.
While everyone shows restlessness,
conversation via mobile phone takes place.
Some seem quiet and unperturbed
Some read, eat and chat with others.
It's a real experience, another episode
that describes procrastination
of any flight scheduled to take off.
The murky rolling waves subject
to the whims of the February's wind,
far above the secluded lighthouse;
the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds,
leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors...
but the geese and seagulls can't continue their existence!
And still the sea offers them its promise,
a distant shore untouched by man...
by his greedy ways and incompassion,
causing the extinction of many species;
my reflection is based on fact :
we can't survive without them!
The stylish wild birds engage,
as if striken by a sudden rage,
in their frantic, daily dance over the marina,
as I listen the melancholic lyrics of " Nessun Dorma "...
the exquisite area of Puccini,
which comes alive through the extraordinary voice of Bocelli!
At four the fog thickens and shrouds the shoreline,
the brass lampposts light up with reluctance...
to shy away the presence of any ghost;
I, in transitive joy, hide my treasure beneath the tides,
hoping someone will find it and remember my work...
long after my thoughts will be no longer alive!
I contemplate the sea…
Behold the horses of dreams
Running over the waves
Like heavenly gleams,
And angelic sparrows carrying the sun
With their silver beaks
Singing in divine joy
The song of love and freedom,
The song of life…
I sail with overwhelming joy,
With my passion,
My dreams,
My poesy,
Looking at the sky
Searching for the face of my one and only…
I travel alone like the sea
No passport
No identity
No borders
No check points
Leaving behind
My home
My language
My sect
My skin color
My worries
My fears
My mother's face
And the sad song…
I wake up with the sounds of aircrafts, tanks, guns,
Then I know that I was dreaming…!
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