Best Landing Place Poems
My mind is open
It has to be
Yet find myself tangled
In a tree
The wind
It wrestles
The safety line
As I hang with the birds
A silent wind chime
The breeze of emotion
Blows this way and that
The sun on my skin..
Then the rain caveat
My silky voice trembles
I just shouldn't be here
"The fates have designed you
This landing place, dear"
The view is amazing
Every moment you fall
Yet get trapped in the elements
Every hail-storm and squall
When the branches entangle
They can claw and then tear
So come back to enfold me
Crease me neatly with care
I just want to return
To that whistling door
The propellor is cut back
And we step-out once more
For this view is amazing
But is there to be shared
I'm designed to be open
Not land-locked, ensnared
Yes our minds can be unfurled
It's the best we can be
The leap from the sky
What it takes to feel free
“Wind Song”
When the rain came it raised a torrent
music, little by little, raised the levy
light pebbles rolled over one by one
took with them
all their
flotsam and jetsam
leaves ferrying Black Ravens carried on
Brook babbling
listened to the birds scrabbling
singing -
“I am the one!"
"I am the one!”
Fed them bread and thanksgiving
Fat and feathered their over fed pride sung
Red Robin turned with the Wind,
flew red currents away from the Aviary in full swing
Spreading wings, riding on their Wind Song
She sings She sings
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
"Home is where your story begins."- Unknown
1. Levy
impose (a tax, fee, or fine).
"a tax of two per cent was levied on all cargoes"
synonyms: impose, charge, exact, demand, raise, collect, gather; More
archaic
enlist (someone) for military service.
"he sought to levy one man from each vill for service"
noun
an act of levying a tax, fee, or fine.
"police forces receive 49 per cent of their funding via a levy on the rates"
synonyms: tax, tariff, toll, excise, duty, fee, imposition, impost, exaction, assessment, tithe, payment; More
historical
an act of enlisting troops.
"Edward I and Edward II had made substantial use of the feudal levy for raising an army"
2. Levee
an embankment built to prevent the overflow of a river.
a ridge of sediment deposited naturally alongside a river by overflowing water.
a landing place; a quay.
'Twas Christmas Eve and cheer abounded in the humble English cottage!
The olde house rang with joy since the children knew with certain knowledge,
That Santa and his reindeer would drop by for a visit later on that night!
Mum was fixing Yorkshire pudding and a goose for their Yuletide delight!
Papa and the kids had trudged through the forest to find the perfect tree!
It stood by the window brilliantly lit with candles for all passersby to see!
Snow flakes as large as ha'pennies wafted down and covered the roof,
To provide a smooth and soft landing place for each little reindeer hoof!
Later they gathered 'round the olde pump organ to sing carols of yore!
Papa read the Nativity Story since the kids wanted to hear it once more.
Mum served cocoa and biscuits with quaffs of hot cider in between.
No mere artist would dare capture with brush this cheery Dickensian scene!
The grandfather clock struck ten and the little ones were shooed off to bed!
They were tucked in bed after stories were read and their prayers were said.
They napped with one eye open when all of a sudden they heard much ado!
Leaping from their beds they tiptoed downstairs where they saw you know who!
'Twas jolly olde Santa busily placing toys 'neath their Christmas tree!
He saw them and said, "Won't you have some milk and biscuits with me?"
Santa smoked his pipe as they sat on his lap playfully tugging his beard,
When to their surprise it came off and the smiling face of Papa appeared!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's "Happy Holidays" Contest
Tell me my friend what is the upside down
Surely please do not frown
Maybe the day saw night and took his crown
So that darkness shall drown
The lack of light is not a plight to me
Funny as it may sound
You judge me literally
Because im black and brown
The lack of sight you can not see
Keeps me in view around
Stereotypes and hypocrisy
Landing on hatred ground
Inside the atoms that dispersed
A darker shade of brown
You do your worse to say im cursed
Because im black and brown
The puzzle is a landing place
Of hue origins found
A map of gathered ground
Of dark color abound
The doves are beautiful
The raven is the least
With your blind eyes you look upon
My color as the beast
Sip slow the water from the well
Be it lukewarm at best
And never look upon my skin
Akin of that of pest
Its not to say with ego play
Im better than the rest
With human heart my friend I say
His story checkered chess
The puzzle is a landing place
Of civilization found
A map of gathered ground
Portrayed the upside down
The Fly
A fly is buzzing about in the backyard, it sounds like
a small plane lost in the wilderness of space, finally it
skids and lands on the green lid of the cistern.
The pilot of the plane must find a landing place as it
Is dark and he doesn´t know where he is. A mountain
suddenly appears in front of him, banks and just clear
the top. On the other side a valley and he sees what
appears to be a landing strip, it is not but a dirt road.
It is a bumpy landing the plane breaks a wing and comes
to a stop on its side. Quickly the pilot gets out, just
in case of fire, he lights a cigarette and think of how
lucky he has been. Throws the stub of the cigarette to
the ground…explosion. I kill the fly with a rolled up
newspaper…no survivors.
The aeroplane lay upside down
At the bottom of the lake quite profound
How it came to be here
Was a story that was not clear
There were no markings that would last
And it appeared the water landing was not very fast
Its door was blown off the side
And it sparked my interest of what was inside
There was a sealed box bobbing around
So I manoeuvred it without a sound
And it floated out and up to the water’s surface
I pushed it over to the landing place
The box itself was so very light
I was able to put it in the van and close it tight
And I pondered what to do next
Thinking what was inside made me so perplexed
I drove it home and locked the garage door
Sipping a scotch I thought some more
Picking up my pry bar
And with one push it opened up with a jar
It wasn’t peculiar in its shape
With a video screen to contemplate
And when I touched it came to be switched on
With scenes of an alien world to wonder upon
But the biggest surprise was the fade to one
Back to a being whose speech had just begun
The universal translator said to me
“Contact made we are locked in, we will come and see.”
© Paul Warren Poetry
Floating, hovering like a dragonfly
in search of a safe landing place.
Roaming, travelling, never settling,
in constant fear of desolation.
No beginning, and no end in sight -
- suspended animation - certain of my creation,
but hanging like a mist or balanced
like a spider on its gossamer web.
Unconditional love did not exist for me:
there was always a condition.
Insecure security - no blood ties you see.
No sense of belonging, so belonging nowhere.
The illusion was there
and I believed it for a while.
My childhood innocence allowed me that,
but now, in callous adulthood, I am spared no pain.
In harsh reality, cold light of day,
the truth is stark: I was abandoned,
given birth to and relinquished
for no reasons known to me.
No explanation given. No excuses.
An inebriated memory, or a raped repugnance.
Yes, an unhappy, irritating accident probably.
Born and gone - out of sight and out of mind.
The effects of that inauguration
are hardly ever seen - they're privately
wept for; written about; drunkenly
discussed at dinner, or in times of
despondency, dwelt unhealthily upon,
when their deep-seatedness shallows
into consciousness and lurches from
my dreams into reality - forcing face-to-face
acknowledgement that I was not
meant to be: that my existence was
a nuisance, a niggling inconvenience
to be discarded heartlessly.
We knaves had orders both explicit and dumb:
Scare the blazes out of a management bum.
Thunderstorm weather rocked wide Prince William Sound,
Feisty gales pouring rain all around.
My partner and I took our overseer
In a tiny smoker craft quite rough to steer.
Motoring south, mighty gusts drove us to shore
We staved off sandstone rocks with long wooden oars.
Back to the channel against gusts we did plow.
Our passenger sat white-knuckled in the bow.
We rounded the curve of our wind whipped north shore
To enter Danger Island Strait's tidal bore.
Roller coaster billows rose twenty feet high
Then dropped into wallows roofed only by sky
At bottom our boat swirled among kelp and rocks
Our passenger appeared as a stunned ox.
Through the passage stood our island’s south cliff face
Pacific waves raged, clawing cliffs to deface.
Our passenger’s eyes set to leap into space,
My partner asked about a smooth landing place.
Sad faced I said, “High tide is still hours away
No place for our boat above the surf today.”
Our passengers’ face seemed as if borax bleached
Praying our tiny craft was soon to be beached.
We rocked and rolled daring Danger Island’s sway
Then motored up our channel, heading camp’s way
We fought the frenzied wind and staved off the rocks
Our management friend quietly clutched his socks.
Nodding, we grinned sideways as if to gloat
As we bailed our boat simply to stay afloat.
But when ornery orcas bumped our frail boat
One gave us the eye; we croaked cries from tight throats.
Our urban client raced to the cook tent door.
While we pulled our craft above the tidal bore.
When we got to the tent for our rum and tea
Our client had downed high proof rums one, two, three.
Too many icy drinks, too fast on a hot summer day,
my core center chilled beyond bearing and
my stomach reacted violently, throwing up
the offending liquid. One can’t go from steamy
summer to frigid winter without a physical reaction.
That glacial feeling from last summer,
came back to me when I saw the doctor
come from the operating room and
head in my direction. His words did
not register with me at first. It was as if they
were frozen in time.
They hung in the air, singly and slowly like
a slow moving storm of ice pellets.
Bleak and raw they whirled around my head before
settling in my startled stomach. They struck
like ice cubes inadvertently swallowed and
too big for their landing place.
The words were cold and cruel and cut into my
very soul as surely as a surgeons steel scalpel
slices through soft flesh.
My foggy brain afraid of reality, chose to be critical
of the messenger. I decided that he had said
these words too many times before and his well
of empathy and emotion had dried to a hard crust.
That is why he was being so direct and frigid.
Then as if driven there by a strong wind, my
thoughts veered off in a different direction.
I felt a flood of pity for the doctor. He looked
so tired and well he might. The operation had
started eighteen hours ago.
Finally my brain filtered out the non-essentials
and leapt onto his words.
“ He didn’t survive the operation.”
When you release the
words, your curled fingers
burst into flame.
It was an ancient filth,
a bird fighting in the mud-
house of quote-unquote.
Someone navigated
over the bald heads to find
a landing place for a cuckoo.
Between real and fiction,
you cannot write a hymn
in praise of satan, called god.
I am done with the darkness
all around, and rip open
the wall to let in the jupiter.
Satish Verma
Confounded landing
The more complexity developed within me, was
Not finding solution to get rid of inner tragedy
Still, increment further to it added, blazes in love piece
A torture, torment and scattered feelings
Dismantle of roofs ahead and falling down of pillars
A long sigh in it, impulse to burn into ashes around
Those, grey views of flown hot dust landing into mind
Added, a gear of lamentation producing laming hands
Helpless legs were buried since long known of calamities
Undecided plebiscite was roaring, ego of human beings
In that, my existence was diminishing into zero
The pit of my landing place was developing into marsh
No escape was viewing for winning from confounded landing
Mid night stroke dense dark, coinciding with palpitation shark.
(11/08/2014)
The most base and magical place on Earth.
inspiration strikes in the most unlikely of places.
On this grand planet there are only a few select spaces, I am at total peace.
A crab by zodiac,
Water bearer at birth;
Where sand meets sea,
The most base and magical place on Earth.
Danger and excitement come with every swell.
A Perfect mix.
Watching the waves, the tide flows.
my greatest anxieties, quell.
Majestic sea gulls fly overhead in search of their next landing place,
But I am at peace on this perfect space.
My true love by my side,
the babe frolics and plays in the surf,
The most base and magical place on Earth.
I was placed in my boat of reed,
And placed in a river run smoothed.
I drifted past Moses’ landing place,
Nestled amongst the rushes,
Past Peter’s boat and fishing nets,
Past reformed basilicas and black minarets,
And factories of manufactured creeds and needs.
All, whose only purpose is to clean the streets,
Tattoo feet, and recycle old shoes and dirt.
I sailed, past them all,
Into the unknown of the ocean.