Best Copter Poems
Since the elders often proclaim, my how time flies,
You then naturally look up into the skies.
To study the heavens for at least one small sign,
From the horizon up to the tallest tree line.
Then suddenly, a flock of birds flitters about,
So you believe that you might have time figured out.
But when the old people mentioned, my how time flies,
They didn’t bring up birds; so is time in disguise?
As a carnival balloon, yes that’s it, you say,
Like the vanishing kind on a bright summer day.
But losing your own, is one of life’s biggest fears,
Since you don’t want to waste any time crying tears.
It’s possible that time is commuting by plane,
Which is surely the fastest speed time could attain.
But what good can that be when the planes out of sight,
Unless it quickly returns from its roundtrip flight?
Then is waiting around to see time such a waste,
When each day there are many affairs to be faced?
Then out of the blue a helicopter is seen,
And you reflect, maybe time is on that machine.
But as soon as a copter is here it’s gone by,
After noisily chopping the beautiful sky.
Although it’s very unlikely time takes that ride,
Unless it cannot hear, or ear plugs are supplied.
Wait a minute, I got it, time surfs over clouds;
If I could do the same all my friends would be proud.
And occasionally time would appear as rain,
But then an excess amount would go down the drain.
Then could time be a portion of air all the time,
To be breathed in, or to give life to a wind chime?
Though, is that really flying like old people claim?
It seems all my guesses are exactly the same.
Well, after a long life of thinking and trying,
To figure out the ways that time could be flying,
In heaven, by feather, or motor, as vapor,
Yet, not one of those ways can be proved on paper.
Until recently, when I looked in the past,
The answers were there for those time questions asked.
That time really flies, though it takes time to see,
That a lifetime of living, is the real key.
And now I tell the young, that time truly flies,
But don’t bother looking up into the skies.
Time earns its wings every day, inside the mind,
And can only be seen, when looking behind!
David Fisher for Impress Me-Iambic Meter Contest
Philosophical motif
Pill bugs wet with dew
as crawling gray domes mirror
green turf, salmon sun.
Copter seeds whirling,
a squirrel chases paper
treasure for her nest.
Young cat mock-tweeting,
wily sparrows unheeding,
paws press on the screen.
The black wall reflected my white-washed skin
and disheveled jacket, above the chattering din...
Loosly lopsided glasses hang limply on my face,
Cold, dark, black, they somehow seemed to fit this place.
The smooth memorial seemed to stretch on,
Longer than death itself;a banner, a chord, an unsung hero's song.
...
Memories race through my unsettled mind,
The dense rainforest reverberates right behind...
Exploding artillery, I see several comrades fall down.
They lay moaning or silently still on the densely foliaged ground.
Like tin soldiers, “Playing dead,” I force myself to believe
Trying to dam the tide of fear, for death is all I see.
“Will, help!" a young and bloodied soldier calls to me.
Hands gruffly grabbed my shoulder; I meet my commander’s steely eyes,
Torn, bruised, and bloody... I could see he wasn't surprised.
“We won’t survive with extra baggage. Retreat to the copter, now!”
He hollered hollowly, his featured in a ragged, downcast bow.
Pondering quickly: Die a hero? Or forever regret today?
Without a hesitation, I hoisted that young man up right away.
He seemed light, until I picked up another, fallen on the beaten path.
The odds were all against me; flying bullets unfurled their wrath.
Lifting yet another, I wrapped him silently around my tired arm.
The day I died, two comarades were saved and taken away from harm.
...
And for a single breathless moment, I thought that I had seen myself,
In the teary-eyed man reading these lost names all by himself.
Now and forever, my name will be a simple written sprawl.
An etching in a stone, a memoir to this black unyielding wall.
Beth Watkins
3/7/11
~Dedicated to those heroes who have died to defend our freedom.~
Three warriors strong, of fleeting
Foot, beset by columns of night’s
Thick soot, to waadi’s tears dried
Long and loud, waits deadly mine
With shrapnel’s shroud
Rocks as mailbox, scattered
Round,but no letters can be found,
One foot ignites, a flash of gas,
Sleeping soldier, foot of lass
Her mind now scattered, poems
And loves, the semblance of a
Tattered glove; by lovely
Face, old Troy was won, now lies
Shattered, in the sun
Wailing much and beating hearts,
Comrades gather, fits and starts,
Radio crackles, hoist at last,
To the copter, goes brave lass
Spirit visits mum and dad, brief
Young lover, surly, sad; Valhalla
Waits, brave angels’ girl; farewell
Banners, rise quick, unfurl
Written for Open Poetry Contest 11/7/15
I drink my root beer
with soggy fries
soiled buns
Hamburg runs
while watching the tube
in an unsightly nude
give me a Draft or an A&W glass
sitting in this position, it hurts my advancing Ass
AMERICAN IDOL:THE OLD FOSSIL REVUE
Plenty of Famous Farts dying to perform for you
Sir Mick and Madam Paul
they both did rocked in THE GREATEST SHOW OF THEM ALL
Madonna and Michael Jackson are Down
it is getting harder for their fannies to move around
Prince Geldof Boomtown Rat
surely realizing that his bulge is getting Fat
Sir Rocket and The Piano Man
were getting TOO FRIENDLY with a local Girl Scout fan
John Travolta the SWEATHOG guy
was making out his Will 'cause he knows he's going to die
One aero plane to his favorite charity
A gyro copter to the Dentist,who removed an unwanted cavity
The Old GREASE leather apparel
going to his TV buddy..The MASH's own B.J. Mike Farrell
Barry Williams,Knight, and Lookinland Too
trying on a fling with their Sitcom Sisters..YOU-KNOW-WHO
William Shatner on his couch
His enormous belly has only just begun to tire and slouch
Farrah and Lee Majors STUCK
trying(separately,of course) to get a Hard-On -UCK
Karl Malden..coming back from the Dead
To invite Zeter Jones than Michael Douglas Instead
The Streets of Sitcom Heaven, where youth is always On
Malden is serenading pretty Catherine with a Song
Now it's time to end this prose
I hope that you can touch both your toes
Don't watch the crap
exercise daily to avoid this trap
and YOU WILL BE A LIFE OVERACHIEVER,INDEED!!
Tour boat, ferry, sailboat, skiff
Bounce along the briny;
Sunshine sparkles on the waves,
Reflections bright and shiny.
Blimp and copter in the sky
Meeting no resistance;
Bridge, majestic, guarding all –
A pillar in the distance.
Police boat passes, pulsing blue
And beeps at people waving;
Children, on a trip from school,
Reluctantly behaving.
Downtown on the promenade,
The river slowly flowing;
I soak up my surroundings,
Glad for time before my going.
Admired and honoured a wit and a scholar
What makes success comand mega dollar
Tea boy to chairman a rise in the main
brought on by the intelect of stamina of brain
Come tell me your secret your inner beliefs
creative deliver reports or reliefs
Your background and parents geneological route
Influence and grounding your Armani suits
Yacht and the polo club members of gold
Copter Farrari cigars finely rolled
Model a beauty gorgous to see
Pent-house apartment one two and three
All of this wealth you never can take
to God and his country forgiveness forsake
Share some a lot to people in pain
Surpressed and rejected no clothes or no name
A helicopter hovered
In the east side New York sky.
It looked just like the hummingbirds
I spot in mid-July.
Its headlight darted left and right,
Like it was on a quest.
I wondered if the search was real,
Or was it just a test?
No boats were in the river
Over which the copter hovered;
That made me think that there was nothing
There to be discovered.
Some minutes passed and then it slowly
Chop-chop-chopped away.
Another New York mystery
To supplement my day.
As a tad his soul was fired as he was regaled with family lore,
Rapt, hearing of his forebear's national service in times of yore.
Following tradition, he donned the uniform as his fathers did before,
Eager to serve his nation in its uniform that he so proudly wore!
He learned that in the misty past an ancestor served at Valley Forge,
To help free the emerging nation from the bondage of King George.
A forefather served as a sergeant in the Battle of New Orleans,
Barely surviving the ordeal on rations of rancid bacon and beans!
A grandfather carried a musket in the Mexican War affair.
Another, a cavalryman in the Civil War, served with elegant flair.
In the Spanish-American fray, a relative charged up San Juan Hill.
His great-granddad led a platoon in World War One with consummate skill!
His grandad was a fighter pilot during World War Two, becoming an ace,
Later to soar as an astronaut through the vast expanses of space!
His Dad, a colonel of artillery served with conspicuous bravery,
In Korea and Viet Nam to free peoples from the yoke of slavery!
The young warrior himself served with distinction in each Gulf War,
As an expert 'copter pilot in the United States Marine Corps!
Recounting the sacrifices their fathers made to keep this nation free,
He instilled in his son the worth of service, while dandling him on his knee!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Fairy beauties fly round
Flying belle - Butterfly
Friend of earth - Honey bee
Fun-size copter- Dragon
Flash emitter- Firefly
Foe of plant- Grasshopper
Flap the wings forever
The passengers were strapped in tight,
Excited for their twilight flight.
To get a close-up city view,
The doors were open as they flew.
One selfie shows a beaming guy
With thumbs-up as they hit the sky,
Expecting to see New York’s sights,
So magical with all those lights.
But once the Brooklyn Bridge was passed
I’m sure all riders were aghast
To hear the pilot’s May Day call;
The copter had begun to fall.
Into the river it did crash
(There must have been a mighty splash)
And in a flash turned upside-down
In frigid water; all did drown.
Their safety harnesses had knives
To cut the straps (for saving lives)
But underwater, in the cold,
No one could get a stranglehold.
A tragic ending to report
For five whose lives were severed short.
The pilot lived but I would guess
His nightmares he will not suppress.
The next bullet
might have your name on it
Think about it,
cause the slug won’t
The next thug
might be coming thru the telly
Oh, yeah ...
‘copter mouth flying under the radar,
with gunnery claws out
Ready to flat blast devour fat wallet pigeons
who love their paper purse belly
Mesozoic slugs in power
don’t wanna outlaw the deadly hot lead
Cavemen in golden towers,
engaging in 45-caliber clubs to the head
Shotgun weddings politically approved,
selling out the people
to the manufactured ones selling the guns
Spray paint the town red,
keep the blood banks on empty
Talk to those living in dread,
fearful of the silent trigger lady
The next GSW victim
might tell you
they don’t wanna kiss
the barrel bride and metal die this way
Think about it,
cause the slug is moving fast,
with no kind of revolver emotional sway
It’s all black and white,
ain’t no gray
Lead is the color of death everyday
Think about it,
cause the slug wanna have
the very last bloody thoughtless say
Danny Diver is no belly-flopper
Only this time his dive came a-cropper
Danny started out fine
But he’d drunk too much wine
He's motionless in the rescue-copter
Oh, they love to spin it.
On prime time and live.
And lie by omission.
Hidden agenda, which side
A new Special Edition
will come on at nine.
Oh, they love to spin it.
Nights in prime time.
Don't care about that.
it's not a news flash.
Get the new body count.
With numbers to flout.
Give us a huge tragedy.
And fly our copter out.
Land there on the scene
Where viewers see them bleed.
Oh, they love to Dish It.
each day at noon.
You know it's a lie.
They all swear it's true.
Given enough time.
We'll Convince the fools.
Oh, they love to dish it.
Scoop stew at noon.
The clock is ticking
The hands are turning
His heart is racing
His mind is hurting
Around the ground his eyes do pace
Cannot believe what he's about to face
Feeling weak
Legs are shaking
hands clasped tight
The prayer he's making
Checks his watch
14:06
Only four more minutes
Until the show begins
He grabs his cross, gun, the letter to his wife
To let her know
How much she's missed
A final prayer
A command to go
He jumps from the copter
Into the war zone
He fires his gun
His life at stake
For the few, the proud
The U.S.A