Best Departures Poems
Rain drizzling on the window pane
Sullen moments, filled with melancholy
Wishes glued to hopes of sunshine
Rays washing away the storm clouds,
The gray day – the tempestuous darkness
Nothing in life ever felt quite as dismal
As the overcast moments when I was left
To my own devices, my own pretenses
Inside the house, where nothing felt as pleasant
As the wonders, the wildness, of the outdoors
As gloom settled into my pores, releasing
Me from the melted boredom, the dullness
Inside, where I only had a tv, books, board
Games and, of course, those imaginary departures
From those homemade paper airplanes…
Who soared, eagerly, riotously – toward destinations
Unknown, into cities and towns where I felt
The racing of my pulse as my heart sped zealously
Reminding me that this was a journey, a freedom
Far freer than any other I had been on…
For this was the flight that would take me –
Into kingdoms, fantasies, imaginary places
Where I could build fictional metropolises
Fantastic castles – rich and amazing moments
That were colored in hues of fanciful inventions
From a mind who was irked by the dismal wet weather
PAPER AIRPLANES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
August 12, 2022
I never overcame your departure brothers
since then
my feet walk crippled
the kidney only filters half of the residues
my heart partially collapsed
and beats insufficiently
the gastric juice became acid
and corrodes the sweetness of dreams
the bronchial airways are carbonized
and emit a roaring echo
the neurons lost
innumerable synapses
when dying necrotic
but here I am with my soul
regenerating light
so that the guide with the candle
calms my rumble of jungle
I’m drawn to airport departure halls,
to the optimism of leaving.
The suspension of here.
The promise of there.
I like the in-between feeling of transit,
the lightness that comes from
exchanging one clock for another.
And how someplace else makes you a child,
everything new again.
And the chance to leave baggage at home,
to quarantine turbulent emotions.
And the triage of broken dreams or numbed lives
into myriad flight paths,
New Life-bound,
relocating dislocated yearnings,
destination reinventing destiny.
And flight:
the release, however brief,
from reality’s gravity,
the world simplified at 30,000 ft. to
a spread of light-bathed cotton-candy clouds.
In motion, there is possibility.
In departure, future.
In passage, faith.
In altitude, a soaring-free.
In sky voyages, horizon-crossings.
In endings, beginnings.
In boarding, a looking-forward to _______.
I like hope taking off.
(Here comes a husband, a leader, preparing for the war for his people`s right.
A wife, making sure of everything to be perfect before leave and the angry troops who are ready to die after their devil`s death.)
(Departure is terrible, now or then)
I cannot understand, what you say?
Oh! It wasn`t me, who said were they.
They were the one, the ones to loose,
loose their families, friends for you.
It wasn`t asked,
they were happy, free to choose.
But don`t you pity , pity on them?
They had their people, people to loose.
Yes, I do!
I do, I do.
But have no choice, what to do?
Ask them again, tell they are free.
And who wants to stay, let them be.
This is a fight, fight for right.
They will be the one to get their right.
If no one lives, who take rights?
They might be happy with their sad but together life.
(Troops)
No, no.
We will fight.
Cut their head off and get their body chopped.
They aren`t humans but devils,
deserves, not to be sympathized but be killed.
Never freed us but killed, sacked and hanged.
We don`t worry our ship, it will get sank.
But before we sink, kill all of them,
free our land from fear and shame.
We will die happy with no regrets,
Our children proudly will talk one day being great.
Now you heard what they mean,
understand what you have seen.
We will return or not today, telling the truth,
I feel the luckiest since I met you that day.
I love you, my lady, now you go.
Be inspirer, live strong and show.
(weeping)
I am afraid, how will I live?
Me, laying in our comfy bed while you even don`t get sleep.
Sit on a giant table without your presence,
thinking about that my heart pains.
But you go,
go my dear go.
Being a leader I will show.
You fight there, I will fight here.
Tell them your stories and sure they will share.
I love you my man, I love you.
I am the luckiest, I knew.
(greeting goodbye to each others they departed. And fought strongly knowing they will never meet again.)
I feel it’s good a time to end the day
when sea merges its gray into the sky –
I long to disappear somewhere away
where futile dreams won’t ever let me cry.
But my boat sails lose wind though hard I try
to hold fast the ropes to steer me on course
and I drift aimless as an empty sigh
the rhythmic sound of waves a silent force
The darkened mountains have cut off light’s source
their brooding shadows shroud my solitude
they match my mood, escape is no recourse
surrender to madness mere interlude
I tuck myself to meld into the night
have faith that nature’s calm will be my light.
Moonbeam departures
A chilly morning
greets me beneath
silent springtime skies
of fading stars
and moon beam departures
as another new day
finds me
thinking of you
And as I quietly gaze
across sunrise glimmers
tickling distant weary fields
to the northern horizon
my thoughts change
as I wonder. . .
if you are thinking
of me too
Good morning Soupers
movie about
Preparing the dead
Was moving
In so many ways
It celebrates life
And the beauty contained
As a heart wrending
Story relays
My favorite scene
Is the one
Where they feast
After closing up shop for the day
As one of the
Leading men
Gorges himself
He looks at his partner to say
I hate myself !
The embracing of
Life so voraciously
After dealing with death
And it's sting
Fills the viewer
With hope
As for answers they grope
As to if their own lives mean a thing
Though it's written
That we
On the scales
Are mere dust
This observation
I've
Come to trust
He sees me!
The wont of sleeps will may trip on illusive tonight
and stumble on a rhythm
laying plaint and wet in some other dream
Sleep may gnaw at my pillow tonight
as the drug of you courses through my veins
and such capillary wanting
may perturb the stars
and question their romance above me hanging
Aye sleep won't fall so easily
as I toss and turn, burned by your imagery
and you may haunt the dawn
while you call to me
but tonight for sure, sleep will not bless me readily
……………………… but I crave your touch, your kiss, holding you, touching you
.... my aching desire is my love for you.
I sobbed I cried at news you'd died
Was more a launch exploding, heart
Somehow disaster on my part!
Though capsule's ashes stain the ground,
The goals you dreamt of, live, profound.
They blast off, fly beyond the moon,
Such wonders, Bill, (1) can't come too soon!
God grace if man can reach the stars,
First baby steps, the moon, then mars!
Apollo's contrails are the rails,
Men ride to space now, flying south,
Beyond all words, the poet's mouth
Is strangely silent. I don't mind
Sky's twinkling mask that's left behind
Space telescopes, at last, see clear
Both what is far and what is near.
Old dreams be damned, there's much to see,
New depths expand reality!
My dream today? There’s much to say,
Time’s saved for us in some new place,
This life has never been a race,
Our dreams don’t cease? I don’t pretend,
I dream we’ll meet again my friend!
You’re dear, though pillars of Apollo fade,
God’s light and ours serve death to shade!
Can phantoms live if life still dreams,
Of poetry, and children’s schemes.
Brian Johnston
18th of June in 2019
Poet’s Notes:
A poem in memory of Bill Hayes who shifted
planes on Saturday June 15, 2019. I wish you
both new fellowship and a safe journey my
oldest new friend!
(1) Bill Hayes was instrumental in the launch of
many of the Apollo missions from Cape
Canaveral!
Deep within his marrow, he knew she would go
Her imminent departure a nuance of the seasonal paradigm
He poured a drink as he gazed at the falling snow,
It was still autumn, yet winter had the temerity to arrive ahead of time
He wished her proclivity was to leave in spring
To play out this saga when flowers bloom
But fate had something else to bring,
Barren landscapes and a wintry gloom
The aperture of his camera captured the snowy scene
As a sort of brokenhearted souvenir
At another time its full meaning he might glean
His thought were now of winter drawing near
He could attest that his hopes began to grow,
At least for a while they would not yet part
Her departure was delayed by the falling snow
Falling gently, and settling on seasons of the heart
~
10-31-18
Eight Word Challenge-9 Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Always and forever, a seeker am I.
Not content to dally in one place, a long time.
The gleam of new places and new friends, calls to me.
Like an astronaut, to seek a new venture in the sky.
I have never understood this about me at all.
Just know I hear far away places, all the time.
Like a lion chained, my voice is hardly small as a dime.
I foresee my mental baggage, ready to go in the hall.
Looking for partners who will laugh with me.
Perhaps, my poetry they might like.
Unafraid to tell me so in the still of the night.
Ah, but I pause, under the caution tree.
The distance so very long, my strength so slight!
4/2/2021
~1~
My latest piece is too long for the poerty sectiob - it's in "Short Stories."
It's called 'an interview"
Here's MOST of the URL:
www.poetrysoup.com/short_stories/an_interview_10880
The lingering hug
The last "I love you, Dad"
The suitcase on wheels
behind him now
Automatic doors open
"Get back in your vehicle, sir"
A final glimpse --
Gruffly now: "Move out, mister..."
Late at the airport, in haste we arrived.
Rumbling plastic wheels rushing in unity,
from tarmac to marble to carpet;
the shuffling queue dispersed, finally.
Luggage swept away, adorned with labelling.
Black and white tags mark a future, awakening.
A marathon sprint to the gate, a race against time
but a man dressed in opaque black approaches
and with regret explains
how just one seat remained,
a voice I'd never forget.
You spoke longingly of your mother's dearest day
and I swayed,
watched as your shadow boarded
naive that I had just sealed our fates.
Now I sit, staring blankly
at your unopened case
wondering if we could've opened
a different timeline in a different space.
If only we'd chosen to stay, chosen to wait.
Regrets waft through the cy air,
a melancholy echo of what could've been,
remnants of a longing to a love unseen.
I watch it slowly leave
the river and enter the Bay,
its bow parting the calm
with an efficient quiet.
Another hour and the ship
will be cutting through
the swells of the open sea.
Men in orange overalls
lean on railings at the stern
looking back
over a long wake.
I try to imagine what thoughts
are washing across
their minds. Perhaps
it's the menu for that night
or the blurred monotony
of seeing another foreign port
with its cranes and marshalling
yards decompose
into the fading light.
Or more likely the thoughts
of love ones waiting for them
at home.
Seagulls follow them out
and spiral over the ship's
dissolving churn,
dipping down into the water,
lifting up again on wings lit
by the last rays of a setting sun.
There is a sadness
to the sight of departing ships -
it touches something deep
as if calling up the echoes
of ancestors saying their last
goodbyes to sons and daughters,
siblings and the grandchildren
they will never meet.