The warm temperature drops outdoors,
And first drops of fresh rain sprinkle.
The thunder claps right above me,
As lightening is striking afar.
Dust is blowing in the wind,
Trees are bending fiercely,
A train horn blares,
As the core nears me.
Then sudden silence,
A calm reappears.
Electrical fires start,
For a moment one
Thinks it’s over,
Then it starts
Passing by my
Tin flying by,
At all the
My poem is about Tornadic weather and evokes
Water in, 'first drops of fresh rain sprinkle'
Wind in, 'Trees are bending fiercely'
Earth in 'Dust is blowing in the wind'
Metal in 'Tin flying by'
Fire in, 'Electrical fires start'
Feeling in 'The warm temperature drops outdoors'
Smell in 'First drops of fresh rain sprinkle'
Taste in 'Dust is blowing in the wind'
Sight in, Lightening is striking afar'
Hearing in 'A train horn blares'
Inspired by Deborah Guzzi's
Five Senses / Five Elements contest.
Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009
Shifting haze, so slowly trailing
Through wood and field, now veiling
Melancholy skies, holding back the tears
With wild geese flying to meet other years.
Flames of crimson torches come flinging
Leaves on knarled branch swinging;
Desolate winds rush leaping
Taking flowers to their final sleeping.
In the groaning of the atmosphere
Unfolding sorrows weep with the fading year;
Fields of cluttered stubble are tangled
With rampant weeds, dew drop spangled.
Flocks of birds leave like flying missiles
Over fields of corn and drying thistles;
Then my dream of autumn fades, paling
Through a grandeur all prevailing
When sunset fires light sky and sea
And sink in the breath of serenity.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2011
Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me between your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
Blood of beggars, blood of kings
Lost forever, never found
Roar your cry across the land
Where the road once walked and wound
Stranded in mountains of sand
Clamp your claws around my waist
‘till my harness groans and falls
You will hold my torso raised
You, impenetrable wall
No giant strong enough to win
Or to grab us from the sky
No demon vile, no sinner's skin
No Cyclops to burn us with his eye
Fly my Harpy, take our dreams
Kill the bad, the hurt, the sad
Cherish fragile shining beams
Screech seductively and glad
Fly so fast, cry for wind
Carry me, my love, your wings
Me, me, tiny, olive skinned
You and me are blood of kings
March 23, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
In solitude I dream tonight
And watch a moth in fevered flight.
It’s drawn toward my quaint porch light
And flies consumed with all its might.
Through open window I can see
Its desperation shared with me;
How freedom in this world is light—
And we as souls are drawn to fight.
Though freedom’s light may cause our death,
It’s worth the risk with every breath.
I understand the moth’s sad plight
When drawn to the glorious light.
Though it knows not of human trust,
It buzzes on because it must!
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014
Bebo was a bird
who could not fly
He kept flapping his wings
'cause he knew he must try
There were two other birds
that were laughing at him
As he was jumping and flapping
up high on a limb
It must be so hard
to be stuck in a tree
Said, those two silly birds
That were laughing at me
I do not like you
get out of my tree
Don't you have somewhere to go?
Don't you have somewhere to be?
Bebo then said
let me get back to my endeavor
Or, I'll be stuck in this tree
forever and ever
He knows he's a bird
he eats worms and sings
He just needs a good breeze
to get under his wings
Bebo worked hard all week
to get into the air
Then he started to cry
Yelling, this isn't fair
With tears down his cheeks
Bebo looked at the sky
He said, I know I'm a bird
so why can't I fly?
The wind then spoke out
and said, It's not how you try
You must climb to the top
You must get really high
Then open your wings
and face into me
I will help you find flight
just get up there, you'll see
Bebo went to the top
of his lonely old tree
He opened his wings
and, waited to see
The wind then picked up
and, carried him high
Bebo was laughing with joy
'cause now he could fly
From that day on
Bebo was happy with flight
He said goodbye to his tree
and, then he flew out of sight
Copyright © Roger Horsch | Year Posted 2013
Engelbert Effleflump put on his disguise
Climbed in his orcetector and rose in the skies
For his mum hated flying and must never know
That Engelbert’s job was in an aerial show
Poor Engelbert hated deceiving his mother
He’d go out of the house under cloud cover
He’d loop the loop in pink polka dot skies
Twirling in his orcetector each time he flies
Over mountains of candy and lollipop trees
Floating on green clouds and lemonade seas
Only children knew his secret, they’d point with delight
Look there goes Engelbert - he’ll be home by midnight!
But disaster happened on one foggy day
Poor Engelbert crashed at a flying display
He was not badly injured - only his pride
But how could he tell his mother he’d lied
Unable to continue flying he told his mum of his work
When she discovered his secret life, she went BERSERK
She shook her gold furry arms high in the air
Now confined to his room Engelbert did despair
Engelbert begged and he pleaded, but she wouldn’t listen
Tears formed in his orange eyes, oh how they did glisten
That night he decided that he must simply be free
Couldn’t live with his mother – how they did disagree
Next morning he munched on his wigglerly grub
Drank his foaming juice from the chocberry shrub
He announced to his mother that he had a plan
We would get a new job, become a delivery man
Engelbert moved into a chocolate house
He lives there with his purple pet mouse
His new job lets him work at his own pace
Delivering dreams to Effleflumps in outer space
* an orcetector is a word that was made up by the little girl I used to be a private nanny to - she was just 2 years old and she couldn't say helicopter.
Contest:- Children’s story Dr Seuss Style
Sponsor:- Casarah Nance
~awarded 4th place~
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
Little blue bird
without a name
It's you I heard
I play your game
High in that tree
You sing a song
And you want me
To fly along
The beach is near
But stars are far
A sky so clear
And then we are
Above the clouds
The clear blue sea
We sing out loud
Just you and me
May 30, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
HORSE FROM MARS
It came from the sky, a gray silver stallion.
I looked up high, and I have also seen a dragon.
With so many things in this universe.
I'm on stand-by with a camera in my purse.
Who would have known I'd be the first to spot a PEGASUS.
The town folks wave hi every time I walk my hippopotamus.
I enjoy showing everyone, my pictures of a flying horse.
I don't see why they call a DOCTOR every time I call the TASK FORCE
I think they are jealous over all the things I've seen.
They act all crazy since I sighted a LEPRECHAUN when I was fourteen.
No one ever believed me when I saw an army of dragonflies.
They have a name for me "the boy who See's too much in the skies!"
I don't know why they can't see what I see.
For all I know they are all experiments under Alien Technology.
They don't believe me how I got this magic MEDALLION.
It was a friendly gift from the silver stallion.
I also have many pictures of a UNICORN.
We became best-friends when he gave me a piece of its magic horn.
We sat together while he drank from the lake.
We enjoyed talking, --talking about how U.F.O.'s are fake.
Why can't they see? The day I fell off a boat, I got rescued by a MERMAID!
Who would have known a mermaid swim around with first-aid.
I also remember the day I followed a LEPRECHAUNS.
We were playing under the rainbow having so much fun.
When I told my doctor about all the things I've seen.
He locked me in a DUNGEON, thinking I was the ALIEN QUEEN.
I begged and I told him I don't believe in any type of alien.
Too bad the master of this dungeon came from another region.
In a way he looks like that one SILVER STALLION from Mars.
The first creature I'd seen the day I fell off the monkey bars.
I have this picture of this horse of course.
JUST help me out of this white-jacket!!! ;-)
If you want to see the coolest picture of a flying horse.
(A small collaboration with: B-Boy)
re-post for ~FUNNY CONTEST
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011
Wash my heart and make it clean
Remove the grime from where it's been
Take my idle hands make them yours
Use them to open holy doors
My cracked lips long to sing your praise
Be my Mistro the rest of my days
Guide my calloused feet along your path
I wish to know Love and not your wrath
Take my arms place them around the poor
Help me realize I need less not more
Plant your precious thoughts in my mind
Change me from selfish, make me kind
let me see your face with my eyes
Remove my ignorance make me wise
Apart from you I cannot be whole
Thank's for this reconditioned soul
One day my life will end, I know it's true
Please give me wings, so I can fly to you
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013
The moonbeams bore you in a cradle of light smiling
warmly a cold blue winter moon rocking over and back thoughts
Midnight mystery howling to a silver reflection deeply echoes whispering winds
over Snow Mountain faraway dreaming stars twinkle in your treasure jewels
Lost trying to catch your trail freedom inside love the spark igniting
magic believing in a fairy tale ending dust in a thousand dreams enchanting
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015
In the daylight hours, I spend my time
So high on a perch, in a lofty pine
Where I fluff and comb my pretty plumes
And wait for the rise of the silver moon
I bob and weave on the top of the tree
Watching my world, in dimensions of three
My golden eyes fixed, on the fallen leaves
As I wait for the night, so patiently
At the set of sun, and the rise of moon
In the Croatan forest, near Camp Le Jeune
With a piercing screech, I take to the sky
On the wind, with silent wings, I fly
Over forest and swamps, on a winter night
Dipping and swaying like a wind-blown kite
In search of a rabbit, a rat or a bat
Until I find one, there's no turning back
Over Emerald Isle, and wind-swept dunes
I fly, so freely, neath a silver moon
For miles along the Atlantic shore
Engrossed in the din of that oceans roar
I hear from a distance, the stir of a hare
And see her dining, on sea grasses there
Her nibbling nose, like a lure, to my eyes
As I, with the speed of lightning, fly
Then swooping straight down, without a sound
I wrap my talons, so tightly around
The slow, soft beat, of a dying heart
As bits of fur, fly away in the dark
A Great Horned Owl, I'm a bird of prey
With the wind at my back, I make my way
With the chill of winter, a melt on my breast
I return triumphantly to my nest.
For contest sponsored by Eve Roper
Written: February 12, 2016
Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016
Life spins out of control…
today I slip into oblivion, floating without roots
over the sun, slowly turning from all I can see,
spinning against the wind, against the earth.
When do I fall?
I should be enjoying the ride.
I’ve always been afraid to fly…
afraid of what’s below and all the spaces between –
maybe afraid of me.
How old will I be when the spinning stops?
I’m getting dizzy, feeling faint…
Minute by minute, I count down – 10, 9, 8…
I’m surely not alone!
Words ground me…yes, I’ll write a poem.
Every letter’s like a hum in my head –
notes in a never ending song.
I’ll write a poem for you and only you.
A poem you’ll never read
because you think you know me.
You think you know my song.
Perhaps, if you took the time to really read,
you’d find a little piece of me…carry it in your pocket
like a treasure to behold.
I’m spinning out of control…you don’t know, you don’t see.
Only God knows why…help me God enjoy the ride.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
An angel gave wings to you so you can fly
Never will life pass you by
Toward the sky you will guide
Hovering above the world so high
On a cloud you sit as other's sigh
Never will you fall from the sky
Your angels taught you how to fly
Copyright © Linda walden | Year Posted 2014
If I had wings I'd outdo unfortunate Icarus
and soar up to the highest stratosphere.
Buoyant, I'd defy gravity and glide
over the loftiest snow tipped mountains,
or slide headfirst towards some deep vale
where iridescent meadows stretch into verdant pastures
where myriads of healthy cattle graze, placidly, alone.
If I had wings I'd play with high white clouds,
or scatter misty fluffy cumulus from over the fields
or cause precipitation to make our produce grow
in our windswept lush and fertile heartland.
Should I forget the poorer drought struck lands?
You know that I would not, not me.
If I had wings I would delight in competing
with all the various winds, and fly quiescent
savoring the multitudinous scents that emanate
from all the lovely flowers and all the well kept lakes.
But alas I have no wings and as I look up
and see the birds flying free, I feel it would have been
a better deal, if God had given me a pair of wings.
21 June 2016
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
Mornings are dreadful time in life unless waking beside gorgeous woman hopefully
a not married one husbans can be such a downer.
And when ya wake to a warm beautiful creature by your side.
And the first thought that comes to your mind is i wonder whats for breakfest.
Then ya probaly cant read the menu to start with and desserve
to have a oversized weight lifter re arrange your ribs.
Im a southern man once means several things non of which means im normal.
And this morning finds my yerning for a trip and widespread mischief.
My amigo had vanished after are trip south of the boarder I remember saying
to myself as i watched him running naked across the dessert being chased
by the flying monkeys he was surley seeing after his consumption of a foreign substance
There goes a fine american.
I would have ran after him but but i didnt want thoose things to turn there attention to me
I herd they had a thing for southern actscents.
And theres nothing worse than a bunch of horney flying monkeys trust me
Ive delt with this problem befor.
and being it was happy hour i knew my slightly insane amigo would understand
in all his naked glory.
Besides I left him some sneakers and a sixpack.
And kept his credit card for safe keeping.
Naked men have no place to keep credit cards and I figured he was in no state to handle
So as i sit behind the wheel ready to to get lost in the madness of fast food and
the ant hill of insanity that is wall mart i turn my thoughts to vegas.
For where would a lost nude slightly insane person run to and feel at home.
I had turn the music up to drown out the sound of whoever was in the trunk.
I figured if i had put sombody in there in a drunken moment.
It had to be for a good reason.
And so with slightly hungover mindset are road begins.
and so with that do the games also.
And i figured hanging around with a cops wife wasnt the smartest idea.
That and im allergic to bullets.
My muse and 16 year old spirtiual advisor had phoned me to say that.
I probaly needed to Invest in the spirt of Jack Daniels today.
And hey she had went to church more than once so who was I to argue.
With a five five spitfire by the name of tinker.
so with A unknown companion in the trunk not helping my hangover i was off
to the races Untill next time kiddies.
Adios and im off to find my amigo.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
Fly to me my love
on the wings of hopes and dreams
come and be my passion
a lover's symphony
Be my guiding star light
show me all of nature's best
come and be my pillow
where my weary head can rest
Take my hand and walk with me
on life's ever winding road
keep me safe and steady
hold me in our home
Let's sleep beside the moon tonight
camp inside the corners of my heart
be my one and only
my desire, my love, my start
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2014
We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time
hearing the news before most of the World did
He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected
He had loves and passions from many places
deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
Not only did he love music and inspire all
He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul
The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened
It was John Denver's plane that went down
Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial
So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
always in loving memory
OH babe , do we hate you go ~
Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
"Leaving on a Jet Plane "
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
cotton - candy clouds
in my pretty rainbow dress, I
softly sing along with the anthem
of Western Winds. Airy and light, I'm lured-
being invited to sway so slow,
swirling in intimate tango with
the cool - sweet breeze.
Breathing anew, I
clamor for more,
I dip and dive.
With snaps in my tail, I soar high! High
like a ship sailing the playful tides
of the blowing winds, mounting
from lows ~ to ~ peaks
but as the wind rest
I will be
SPONSOR: Broken Wings
Contest Name: Creative Layouts
6:08 pm, October 20, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
LITANIES REHEARSING ADIEU
from May blooms,
ACTUAL FORM: Waltz Wave
***Sponsor Kim Merryman
Contest Name Shall We Waltz?
10:22 pm, June 13, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
Bibbety Bobbity bunny went shopping with his mum
She bought him a pogo stick so he could have some fun
For other bunnies had teased him about his enormous ears
Poor Bibbety got so upset he’d run to his mum in tears
Now he’d got his pogo stick he’d bounce around all day
Couldn’t wait to show off and hear what other bunnies say
Some bunnies gathered round him to see what he could do
He gave one ginormous bounce and into the air he flew
Bibbety Bobbity bunny had bounced oh so very high
He left the earth’s surface and landed in the sky
The other bunnies shouted for him to come back to land
But Bibbety went zooming high, he was feeling oh so grand
Hopping on fluffy clouds of iced pink cotton candy
Bibbety thought life in the sky was so very fine and dandy
For now his long floppy ears acted as a propeller
He became a bunny helicopter, oh what a clever fella
Bibbety Bobbity bunny thought he could have a little fun
By dancing on the rainclouds and blocking out the sun
Hopping about on misty clouds made him want the loo
There are no toilets in the sky, what should poor Bibbety do?
A stream of rabbit droppings falling from the sky
Could really hurt someone if it hit them in the eye
So Bibbety grabbed his long ears and made a bunny nappy
He floated back down to earth and he was really happy
Bibbety’s pogo stick just disappeared and his flying day is over
He now just plays in his garden and nibbles sweet spring clover
N/A in contest judged on 05/21/16
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
Gone are the days of childlike hope and dreams.
Our tender years were cast on life's broad streams.
Rich mem'ries float on waters still serene,
while thoughts drift past the seasons in-between.
That final bend of river not yet seen,
we set out seeking vistas new and clean,
where aging frame and psyche' still burn bright,
made strong and sharp as blades in morning's light.
We'd dream and see realities yet new.
Our aging forms, set free, would test as true
those aptitudes and skills not proved since youth.
The vision, quite sublime, has become truth.
We'd run the race as when young, full of drive,
to sense a new resolve, to feel alive.
The blood and air would surge deep in our chest,
hearts striving one more time to be the best.
Perhaps, we'd stand on mountain tops and view
our world and all its peoples kind and true.
If foes of that time bid earth-mates good will,
we'd aim from common fate all strife to still.
And, when the course of each life had been run,
we'd pray wise God affirms all was well done,
while setting each soul free from fated slings
he bids us soar on air that yields to wings.
Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015
Three Sonnets tell a story, in sequence.
[From the narrative poem, "Don't Go to Wyoming Alone"]
I. Natural Instinct (Chivalric Sonnet)
He saves a wad of cash and designates
the stash to finance trek in far-off land
in hunting boots and custom gun he built
for me with love and hope for trophy grand.
"Is this a trip I've dreamed about?" I ask.
"Can I enjoy the hunt, savor the kill?"
I contemplate the danger in that land -
will heat, dry thirst and bugs defeat my will?
Might this be atmosphere I cannot stand?
Excitement builds as I heft gun with ease
and find the answer soon on target range
as my bull's eye displays my expertise.
Though I have no inborn instinct to kill,
my reason tells me not to waste this skill.
II. Lost Vacation
Our trip is planned, we'll soon be on our way,
he's called and found the perfect spot to stay.
The husband leads you out to hunt the wild
as room is cleaned, clothes pressed, wife cooks gourmet.
Alas, things change, his current bent is new.
While Mom and I go west without a clue
he flies the skies to satisfy desire
from Air Force days where first the hunger grew.
But circumstance forced him to stay aground,
our funds were tight and kept him budget bound.
Since children now are wed and off the corn
he's free to choose to play or bum around.
When we return from trek out west by train,
he's spent vacation cash to buy a plane.
III. New Dimension (Couplet Sonnet)
What fun we've had in years of golden age
as we, in freedom's row, our thirsts assuage.
We climb above the ground in utter glee
and view the earth below from Cherokee.
We join a pilot's group and meet new friends.
We travel now as time and space portends.
Each time we fly we bring two more because
two empty seats invite our friend's' applause.
But soon we build a smaller home down south.
I close my ears as words come out his mouth,
"The plane's for sale, I need a tractor now
to plow off snow and grade the road." It's how
our trip to Africa, in quickened time,
became a tractor. Surely, that's a crime.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
I yearn to spread my wings and fly,
a fearless eagle soaring high.
To be free like the wind and sing,
finding beauty in everything.
Like white clouds, I seek the blue sky!
The form is Spanish Quintain or Quintilla: Rhyme scheme: a, a, b, b, a
Iambic Tetrameter 8 syllables per line
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015
At the first sign of light, I can hear incantation
slowly ascending, from the depths of the canyons
Windward it's calling to get my attention
while my eyes search the sunrise, to look into heaven
Gliding with ease is the shape of an eagle
swooping on wings that have lifted my soul
Reverently regal, the rare golden eagle
flies overhead while leaving its shadow
Scouting the timber for one special tree
it circles the forest, so high, in the pines
Far in the branches, limbs cradle her nest
She'll pause for a rest, where her fledglings will feed
safe from the bite, of the darkest of night
Deep from abyss of the narrowest canyons,
she'll soar like a plane to the clouds in the sky
I close tight my eyes, and will dream I'm beside her
Far above treetops......I wish I could fly.
I'd look at the world, in the softness of dawn
and wish for such peace, until my tears overcome
Written for "Golden Eagle Contest"
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015