Best Aerials Poems
The rosebud has little to do
Just drink its fill of waters
From the strong sturdy vine that's true
Kissed by dew that matters
And enjoy the kiss of sunlight
Upon woven petals
Open little each day that's bright
Sun radiant aerials
When opened sufficient indeed
Host a party to bees
Butterflies who on nectar feed
Won't even run from me
Like they are glued to your nectar
Petals are to full extent
Begin to fall of your vector
When petals gone your scent
On petals linger to be stored
In jar_ pressed for oil
Then I would want to be used
As you who had no toil
Stood at the upstairs window, hands face down
fists clenched, knuckles touching cool windowsill.
Crows, silhouette cut-outs surveyed the town
from aerials and ranged the skies at will.
I watched their dark progressions jealously,
from eggshells cracked they burst and rove the sky
roaming when needs dictate, they hunt and feed
instinct their engine, not some reasons why.
And here I stand moulded by circumstance,
driven by life's winds, leaf upon a stream,
currents of obligation, waves of chance
my path determined, yet allowed to dream.
Cannot accept defeat though these things be,
I know I'm out there somewhere- the real me
Sidewalks and skate parks;
Old swimming pools drained.
Kickflips and split lips;
young ankles sprained.
Aerials and Varials
and being called a punk.
Tail taps and grip tape;
and tricks that take *****.
Exercise that is ramped up;
balance in a curve.
Backflips and Bearings
now don't loose your nerve!
Ollies and wallplants
it's no passing fad.
acid drops and nosestalls
Not just boys being bad!
Ramps under carports
and falling and pain.
Daring and doing tricks
again and again
Inclines; expression
and Five Oh grinds
Nollies and ledges
and friendship that Binds.
Go away Mr. Policemen: Just let us be.
Skateboarding is not a crime!
So let us Skate free!
The train approaches in the distance
Through a tunnel we gave birth
The chimney smog marries the low clouds
Of increasing heavy traffic and haze of garbage fires
Red roof tops absorb long wave radiation
The neighbourhood’s listening to the world
Through aerials and satellite dishes
The potholes feel like exploding landmines
As vehicles detour onto the pavements
People stroll in the middle of overcrowded streets
While children play soccer and drive brick blocks
Through new eyes,
Everything still looks the same or worst
Who will drive the train of progress,
Who will pilot change?
The township must be demolished!
It symbolises everything wrong with us,
Stagnation, procrastination and assimilation
The corners are occupied by gangs of ‘nyaope boys’
Who have made it their career to be unproductive
It’s a gaping sore of apartheid’s legacy
That will never heal, not in a century...
It is on the periphery, a dumping ground
Not prime land earmarked for human habitation
Through new eyes, we must have a clearer vision
A landscape with a lush vegetation on the horizon
No amount of money can ever buy a slum,
The infrastructure of a safe neighbourhood and good sanitation
When the very same people who seek to improve it,
Don’t reside within it and merely claim it to be their roots
No RDP can ever be a beautiful home, through new eyes
No amount of Shoprite stores will make it look right
No township will ever evolve into a City proper
I repeat, demolish the township!
Where is humanity?
as Congolese players,
stuffs and fanatics
were about to sing
their national anthem
at Afcon tournament,
they put their right hands
on their mouths
to express the silence
of the international community
into the problems of DRCongo.
they pointed their left hands like guns
on their heads to express different atrocities
which continue taking place
in Eastern of DRCongo.
They seemed so confused after hearing
about the bombardment of the rebels
In one town in East of DRCongo
which killed many folks.
the USA, France , UK , Germany governments
are supplying the rebels behind
the government of Rwanda
As they are pushing the deal to balkanise
DRCongo into many countries.
Many people who understood this powerful mute speech of Congolese players
were so sad.
Congolese blamed different media
for not showing the Congolese supporters from the beginning to the end of their match with Ivory coast ,
as they were wearing some tee-shirts
and uplifting some pamphlets
written " Stop Genocide in DRCongo."
Congolese government found
that the CAF is also complice to that action and stopped their team to participate
to any activity of solidarity which will be organised by CAF.
Some Congolese destroyed their Aerials
of some French Channels which were reporting the Afcon.
Some Congolese marched at the embassy
of France in Kinshasa
And called for the closing of USA, France
, UK , Germany embassies in Kinshasa
As many westerners
are promoters of the wars
in DRCongo.
Where is humanity?
As Congolese continue to be killed
Like animals while the whole World
is silently.
Moonstruck
We are so close my love,
that on certain dark days
we set each other aflame
exploding like aerials that
quickly burst then dissipate
leaving vapors of remains
that the wind blows away.
As quickly as our arguments
ignite, they are over in a flash
and we are reminded of the
explosive power of the new moon.
We go to separate rooms to cool
and recoup from the intensity
of opposites drawn by each
other's flame unable to keep from
a combustible explosion on days
when the dark and moody moon
seems to delight in our conflict.
12-6-18
Le Cirque Bleu
The spotlight is aglow through the gloam
The light an indigo ink modifying color
She swings her body with agility thrusting backwards
upside down, with unseen wings,
an acrobat aerials amid the roar
She looks pretty with her fan in one hand,
long tresses flowing loosely
A circus horse made of jade below
makes eye contact and an interconnection
Without movement they are in an eternal trance,
In the deep dark yonder the golden helio appears
Fiddle and banjo play for the opening adagios act La Nouba
Her leotard tightly invokes, red with flower imprints
Statuesque, still in time showing off her physique
and impressing spectators from below the fliers' pedestal
From above the nets, with ease, she imagines a
world where gravity defies, and animals and objects fly
Flights of fancy within the flying trapeze
flights of fancy an indigo trapeze ~ from above jade nets, an ease
I have no problem
Finding beauty in the most ordinary things
Like sunshine’s crystallized mourning song
Falling down the Arizona sky like raindrops from India
Purple, pink, orange destiny
Slowly reclining before the ebony embrace of twilight
There is nothing wrong
With a coffee before bedtime
Rich pumpkin spice scent wafting from the air vents
Hugging the streets between breaths of hot air
Autumn memories before a park bench
Silence before the poet
Booms into (check two one three, check) the Mic and spits out
truth
A shopping spree after payday
Ringing it up at the register
The cashier boy with his deep brown eyes and tenor voice
That seeps into every crevice of the floor
Skateboard King on Sundays
The aerials and ollies, flips still twinkling in his
eyes
Chocolate lust hair that swept in front of his
Eyes
The most beautiful things in life
Aren’t hard to appreciate
When he has eyes like that
When I fall
I fall hard
(God damn)
[Those eyes]
Bam on the counter
Heart still warm from previous engagements
“Did you find everything okay, today?”
“Yes, yes I did”
“I’m glad”
And I searched, searched from some hidden meaning in his words
Nothing more then what I wanted
He looked deep,
Deep
Deep down into me
I have no problem
Being in love with the person
Nobody seems to notice
Because
I have no problem
Finding the beauty in the most ordinary things
I Slept with a Female Mosquito
(part III)
Honorable Adjudicators.
How did she enter? Anopheles!
Oblivious, she trailed me?
To my chamber, stalker – to my bed, bawdy
Sneaked in my quilt
Skirting –
The radar of my eye
The aerials of my ear
And the tax of my hand
So, she, at the dead of the hour
Far from the clock
Infesting, invest in –
My ears, my lip, my neck, what pleasure!
How did she? I long – how long did I entertain her.
In my still time, comatose slumber; torpor.
I scrutinize the net; intact – tight, that night.
Edge to edge, head to head, end to end
There were no moles. The net, bridal new.
Anopheles! And you think I will let you go?
Scot free! Unpunished! Shame!
Part of my bloody pint in her.
A Permanent Secretary
The very first automobile that I ever owned,
Was a 1937 Ford sedan that was many times preowned!
I bought it when I was a junior in high school as I recall.
It would do about 55 miles per hour with the pedal to the wall!
I paid two hundred and fifty bucks for that snazzy set of wheels.
I worked at a grocery and a gas station to pay for that deal of deals!
Now, in my feckless youth, a plain lookin' vehicle wouldn't do,
So I adorned it with useless gewgaws to express my point of view!
First thing I installed was a fanciful knob on the steerin' wheel,
And not a few times it rapped my knuckles and made me squeal!
I had a pair of chrome spotlights to give it a modicum of sex appeal!
On the tailpipe was a gadget that projected a thunderous peal!
I had twin aerials installed, one for show and one for radio operation.
Attached to each was a foxtail that evoked curious fascination!
I affixed rear wheel fender skirts and mud flaps with red reflectors,
White sidewalls, fancy gearshift knob and feelers to act as curb detectors!
I had a guy install a horn that played, "Mary Had A Little Lamb!"
Cops thought it a nuisance and on many occasions it got me in a jam!
Dad told me that buyin' such stuff was foolish but I was havin' a ball!
(Years later, I myself found that you can't tell a teenager anything at all!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
i'm a book collector of the old,
ham radio books to me are gold,
the ancient ones with valves and such,
I make long wire aerials to keep in touch,
i'm vk4pr of Queenslands fold...
dont do it now so much...
Don
*Image of Child Sad Suffering provided by Pixabay.
Not Of This Earth
Poetic Form: Narrative
Asymmetric mistrals warp speckled vaporous pallidness toward rhythmless voids. Obviates an evacuating azure as a midday star pivots to a twilight qualm. Numinous absent souls of supine prying pupils, yon ethers sinister obscurities, caught in stained oblique ocular whites. Drunken sanguineous veins to gluttony as impish tinkers sporadic doubts riveting telltale images. Metallic aerials ousted the clouds to unperceived iniquity.
Exhausting times since the alien armada infested Earth in a furrow of carnage. Abominable hordes disembarked, eviscerated whole metropolises. Hideous beings, an abysmal sight, smothered the remote vestiges of our civilized world. Cities ere their decimation had numbers reduced in fleeing desperation. The annihilation of life on Earth engrossed thoughts upon the scraps of humanity left. Ravenous creatures generating utter rampage to and abroad, slighting none to decay. Be they mortals or breathing existences of our lesser kingdom, perished in the bloodletting. Some kept as breeders for the succession of consuming time.
A cohort strung of plain folks, thrust as one in a nameless realm, sought ephemeral refuge in a subterranean hollow expanse. Bestill for the scarcity of fragile credence as the intrepid one, espy a grotesque glistening of crimson blood, secreting from the sheathed hoariness of fangs. Sentient rouses heedful footfalls per monstrosity exposed jawbone, that swapped shrill for snorts, neath laden eyes that had shrewdly scowling luminous orbs. Creepy anvils pierced hairline, afeared incus, sensitively measures close octaves, spurs the labyrinth's nerves. Alas, its vulgar pelt of bulky fur stretch hither and fro, bars clamors reach.
Cavernous chambered partitions mimic as trepidation ebbs nevertheless. Unceasing progress to that bemused destiny, as anonymous atrocities, plague each within their shells, e'er crucifying the last semblance of their true selves. Ardent impulses seeping via their lithe ruby channels, crossing neath the bits of their betraying skins, as they escape the nebulous sepulchral. Beasts at 6 o'clock, tho' what unknown lurks yon pits facade, save a future yet to be titled.
2021 May 12
Desire doesn’t belong........
Desire dives into the ocean of the heart
Like high waves rushing to sweep the sand
Like grey clouds all roaring in unison
Gushing to douse the drought ridden land
Desire yearns to light an enduring spark
Like auburn flames kindled by ignition
Like wildfires raging through still foliage
Untamed, unstoppable beyond inhibition
Desire strives to soar into oblivion with wings
Like master illusionists preparing to levitate
Like aerials gliding and swooping in flight
An unearthly force not meant to gravitate
Desire waits like a treasure to be unraveled
In a forbidden map that is yet to unfold
In cuffs that haven’t yet imprisoned the soul
In fascinating sagas that are left untold
Desire doesn’t belong to a single mortal
Not bestowed nor pre-ordained
“She” resides solely in pristine pleasures
Stoic, defiant, unrepressed, unchained
whirling aerials -
swift melodious birdness -
soliciting grace -
we balanced along
The embankments edge,
And past the Dead Dog Tree.
The view from the eyes that
Flew above aerials hum
Left us down in the gravelled
Crawl. Scratch and tap among
The ash heaps and the concrete
Cracks. Left to lie in the
Heart of the seldom sun.