At the airport
I am stopped by a uniformed man
with strange customs.
Anything to declare?
I have declared everything in my poetry.
How many poems have you, sir?
Oh, about sixty or so.
The legal limit is ten.
You will be charged duty on the rest.
I was charged.
He scribbled a receipt in blank verse.
I got away lightly this time,
he didn’t find the rest.
Thank goodness he did not look
inside my head.
No ships are mooring at this bay
No ferries dragging to and fro
The visitors that come to stay
The next day pack their bags and go
No planes are landing at this airport
The timetable display is dark
We won’t be welcomed to the board
To be ascended like that lark
The sea’s in sprawling stains of oil
A smell of burning fills the air
The birds lay dead on poisoned soil
Stay home, it’s dangerous out there
Is it the phase of evolution?
Some side effects from climate change?
Authorities have no solution
Stuck in an intermediate stage
There’s no escape, no destination
But nonetheless, I’m thinking of
A better time in reservation
When I evolve in you, my love.
It was midnight in Toledo,
With the airport all locked down.
Rats were screwing on the sidewalks.
Not a taxi could be found.
Then appears behind the headlights
A night shift cabbie found his fare.
Knew an after-hours dive bar
"Thank you pilgrim, drop us there!"
Morgan swirling in your Cola.
Three olives in my gin.
Jazz was mellow in The Scale House.
It's Tuesday morning, we're sleepin' in.
Long and sad goodbye at the airport.
Both struggling with health issues.
Undoubtedly last time these friends would meet.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
"Yellow is a bright and fun color to enjoy." By Poet
My husband and I met,
many years ago.
After writing weeks of letters,
he was coming to visit me for a few days.
Yellow was my then boyfriend's favorite color,
I was going to be a fun surprise for him.
The engines of the airplanes roared,
just like my nervous stomach.
I was dressed in all yellow from head to toe,
looking like a big bee with a huge smile.
When he got off the airplane,
he said, "you look breathless."
Then we both laughed until we cried,
I may have looked stupid but he loved it.
I chose this moment because it set the stage for our life together. He was coming to see me. We had first met a few weeks before. I wanted to impress him. Knowing yellow was his favorite color, I knew I would be in yellow. I went to many stores finding yellow from a head scarf to shoes. Every line was easy to write because it was a fun part of our life. I removed the part about him staying with my girlfriend and her husband because it was not about yellow or the airport. To this day, we still laugh about this airport meeting.
We settled in for the long flight home,
the loud noise got our attention.
Dinner was served with a smile,
then the captain came on.
We blew out our tires on take off,
now for an emergency landing.
One Brief Unforgettable Moment.
Bad balloon
Harassing the enchanting moon
Covering song performed by wham
While playing lead singer in the legendary contra band
Dropping buds
Not knowing what?
Is going on
Fooling around, dropping potential cancerous bombs
Smoking I mean
Luring teens
Turning them ugly, abusive and mean
Disrupting travel
Unleash verdict’s parachute gavel
Sentencing the trip, ‘unravel’
Due to going pop
Taking a sniper shot
Sending the cargo towards the ground
Hopefully, found
Going down
Identified not the telescope, Hubble
Now in major, government trouble
It’s fantasy bubble
Has no one to cuddle
Realizing action was a must
Peaceful bust
Sending bad balloon to an eternal rest
Deeming it the best
Allowing the mess
To confess
And surrender, accepting arrest
Luton Airport
People, passengers, everyone going somewhere, somewhere else
I love seeing them; there are so many nationals. Hmm. A half hour ago, I shopped
A white Bacardi, and beside me, I heard Polish words. I looked there
A very likable par. A young Polish woman and a man. I asked them.
(They shopped at the self-service checkout)
Are you Polish? “Yes.” They answered. Nice to meet you, I said. I am a Hungarian
I told them. We talked a bit. Not too much time. They were friendly. Polish and Hungarian
They are brothers and sisters. They are on a different line. I just think. I am still sitting here
So many people walking in front of me, I am sitting on a bench, and the pubs are full here
In this airport. Always
Good to see these people here. How many nations are there? I don’t know. I don’t know
Someone is going to the Parish, someone to Bucharest, Someone to Warsaw, Someone to Krakow. And to so many places, cities, and countries. They're just flies, from my mind
I saw all of them—many faces, souls, characters. My heart is in pain. I can’t see them anymore
Have a Good Journey!!
God Bless You!
All the Best!
All to You
Love You!
Rummage
If you must.
My presence here
Is based on trust
So dressed am I
In Summer svelte
Yet you're to check
My trousers belt;
I'm scanned
As if each cell is rogue
So scrutinised
Despite en vogue
I understand
Away from home
You check my
Hydrocortisone;
The lotion for
My perfect tan
Or salve for lips
To kiss this man
Accept, do I
My gooey three
Could form a plan
For bomb plot spree
A victim
Of mis-communication
Disturbing transport's
Destination
Ungroomed
Is how my luggage ends
While protection
Of the sky depends
On just this task
For safety's sake
More pleasant if
A smile you'd break
Your focus can't be
All on me
Perhaps you're wondering
"What's for tea?"..
Or hoping soon
To get away
To pack for your own
Holiday
So here's my wish
For you to find
Credentials
Of a different kind
As poke and prod
Display and sort
Where discretion is
A last resort
So one day you may
Understand
In travel
To another land
Exposure
To some inner delving
Though required, it may be
Disconcerting
A friend of mine just called me
Since her flight has been delayed,
With Newark messing up the plans
So many folks have made.
I do not live in Jersey
So this airport isn’t mine,
But it isn’t far and all its problems
Somehow crossed the line.
Construction on the runways
Made United cancel flights
And controllers walking off the job
Brought danger to new heights.
Equipment failures add a new
Dimension to this scourge
And to worsen this fiasco,
There’s some rain about to surge.
My friend’s flight was rerouted
To an airport close to me
And I hope she gets to fly today,
But there’s no guarantee.
Last glimpse of Davao
Seen underneath the plane wing
Before its sun down.
Last time glued with you
Wearing those lovely smile
Is viewed from tarmac.
Last time I kiss you
My knees shaking terribly
As we said goodbye.
Last seen your photo
Tired tears rolling down my cheeks
As I feel asleep.
Have you ever thought about the permanence of airports?
Flights dock and depart.
The people flow in and out,
ever-changing,
a whirl of color and language and time.
But not the concrete.
Not the tile.
The cornerstones always remain.
Decades of stories,
manifold fears and dreams,
held between each molecule.
Here we are timeless.
Existence escapes the construct
of seconds that parade forward.
In an airport, you simply are.
Cold blue tile is the foundation from which two children build their world.
This airport has seen thousands upon thousands of feet touching its ground,
but their travel-weary weight is erased
as toddlers run, screaming joyfully, over top.
Laughter bubbles from their tiny pink lips,
and I find I can’t help but join in.
Snow-blond hair and a green dino hoodie.
These are the hallmarks of those who herald cheer into the world,
though they’re not yet conscious of anything but their next step forward.
Hold tight to your vibrant visions of castles and ships for as long as you can, little ones.
Your light is precious. May it not be fleeting.
Miami International Airport
has something most airports do not
they have trained therapy dogs
ready for hugs and cuddles
I am unsure how I can find one
but if I get to Miami, I will be looking for one.
Beneath fluorescent runway
bars and stripped cars
the hollow hum of engines,
echoes of footsteps stretch thin
across marble floors
ancient whores!
Ghosts in suits
drift scarves
through the fog of the sublime,
their eyes dim beacons
distant, never seeing what is before them.
The air tastes of cold steel
whispered departures of souls.
Meeting in the night,
where the walls sigh stories
of strangers in long-forgotten halls.
Haunted faces flicker
dim-lit with memories,
half-formed, lost between
departures gate of sleep.
Something transcends
under flickering lights,
moments shatter,
as the night swallows
each step is endless
empty are the walls.
Shadows of worn-out places
their bones brittle with dust
cling to the silence,
waiting for voices
that never came.
Through glass windows
the sky, void
without stars
Moons.
Or mooring
only the low murmur
of engines call the living
And we turn,
the weary.
Gliding shadows of firmament,
caught between destinations unknown,
and faces unseen!
Haunt untethered from this rest
to worn-out places
unclean!
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