Best Paratroopers Poems
As the dusk of darkness settles in the
sky above
The setting of the sun masters
colors we all love
Stars begin to twinkle, covering the
heavens at night
As the moon appears in its beautiful
array so bright
Magically in different forms until it
comes to be full
The starry dippers chasing one another
as in a duel
Disappearing as the clouds come into
sight with haste
The rain falls supplying the earth with a thirst full taste
As the dawning aligns itself with the rising of the sun
Creation blossoms as a result of what the
rain has done
Blue skies allowing its rays to bear its warmth upon us
White clouds puff across the sky, as large
as an Octopus
Figures are created with each cloud
whether big or small
The wind moves the tops of trees,
whether short or tall
Watching the sun half circle, shading each part of our land
Birds singing in harmony like heaven’s marching band
The magic of beauty is seen in the
heavens day and night
Planes flying from east to west until
they are out of sight
Hot air balloons of all colors rise above
following the cloud
People watching noisily with clapping hands so loud
Paratroopers falling from heaven framed
in pictured glory
Flowing with grace as this majestic
view tells their story
Children releasing balloons while watching their flight above
Their face reminds us why this magic
in the sky is so loved
Paratroopers stealthily slide unnoticed,
chutes deployed, small blazes of white obscured by
fog that lingers lazily, til their numbers
cover the meadow…
Faster, faster, not just content to cover,
reinforcements filling in, words unspoken,
synchronized with perfect precision, ever
picking up tempo…
Occupation utterly overwhelming,
swamped defenses, raising a flag, surrender.
Long, the arm of conquering winter, brings a
lengthening shadow…
It was the day I wanted the most
Yet dreaded as the worst,
Seeing the jumpmaster’s eyes
Way up there in the sky,
Waiting for the scream
“This is a paratroopers’ dream
Stand in the door—lean and mean!”
C130 paratrooper’s Jet, 1500 feet above earth
M16 Weapon by my side, ready to hit the dirt
Knees bent as a dog’s leg on the ledge
Crackling nerves on screeching edge
Cotton dried mouth like a Sahara’s wedge
Soldier before me threw up his lunch
Stomach flipping—fear gripping
Paratrooper’s static lines scraping, moving
Shinny brand new paratrooper’s boots
Shivering to a shuffling groove
Trembling to its new roots
Cold palms slippery from sweating
Camouflaged face twitching like electric shocking
Eyes like a road map dredged with red
Boots shuffling towards the elliptical edge
Heard the jumpmaster’s words
“Go, go, go—jump soldier!”
I felt like a lonely hanging leaf
Growing from the side of a cliff
Just dangling in the breeze
Like a trapeze with distance in between
The moment of truth arrived
Saw the green paratrooper’s light
Heard the Jumpmaster’s voice—“Go!”
Cannonball leap into the rushing breeze
Wings of angels—still praying all the more
One thousand…two…three…four…
Parachute opened above—“Puff!”
Then I knew from the Lord
As I descended safely below
I am still His beloved!
To the Build-A-Bear Store
With granny in tow
Do you remember?
What was you four?
Say you remember
Only one or two
Well maybe three
Still sitting upon
Granny's knee
When we opened
The door to
The place
Why it was a
Virtual zoo
Animals wasting
To be filled
Waiting to be glued(sewn)
First you
Had to put a
Heart from
The very start
Then you
Pressed the
Button and
Filled the
Animal with
Stuffing
Then she
Sewed him
Shut
But he had
No clothes
You got
To pick them
Out from
500 different ones
You picked
A camoflauged
Paratroopers
Outfit just
For your
Beautiful
Green frog
Which you
Named
Turtle
I remember
Too
I chose
I could’ve been
A homebound hermit,
Hypnotized by the hum
And hue,
Of a high-tech
HD computer screen.
A slave
To the
Rhythmic rap
Of
Clicking keys;
Depriving me
Of much
Needed rest.
I’d Search
For Love
And friendship
In a network
Of strangers,
Oblivious to
The world
Outside.
I would’ve
Made a great
Defense lawyer.
With my
Appetite to argue.
I’d rescue
Common crooks,
Convicted of crimes;
From the
Confinements
Of a cell.
I’d lobby
For leniency
With lavish
Litigation laws.
Dedicating myself
To Dissembling
The Death penalty
I should’ve
Joined
The army,
A proud patriot,
Surpassing
My peers
Through promotion;
From a potato peeling private,
To a more
Prominent position.
Pushing my
Paratroopers out
Of a plane.
Parading my men
On the field
Of battle.
I’d receive
A war
Winning wound,
Perhaps a
Purple Heart.
I could’ve
Been a detective.
Cleverly cracking
Cold cases-
CSI style,
Coercing confessions
From criminals
And Con-men.
Collecting a
Cheap watch,
As compensation
For my commitment
To the precinct.
I should’ve
Been a doctor.
Devoting my life
To curing
The incurable,
Letting long hours
Deprive me
From family.
Always
At the
Beckon call,
Of work
Provided beeper.
Carrying out
Curative procedures,
On clients
That are
Scarcely clinging
To life.
I would’ve
Made a
Terrific teacher.
Choosing to
Live my life
Through the
Youthfulness of
My students.
Teaching them
To take on
The world
With caution
And Confidence.
Lecturing them
With lessons
Of longevity.
Disguising
My desire-
Jealous of
Their youth.
My choice,
Was not to
Focus on
One aspect
Of life,
But to
Experience
Them all.
With the stroke
Of a pen,
I walk
All paths.
I chose
All destinies.
I could’ve
Been this,
Or been that…
I should’ve
Done this,
Or done that…
I would’ve
Made this
Or made that…
Instead,
I chose to write.
descend from the clouds
while blasting enemy lines
Ahhh!—paratroopers
© Joseph, 1/20/08
© All Rights Reserved
Comments: I wanted to be an air force fighter pilot when I inquired into joining
ROTC in college. I didn't have 20/20 vision at the time so I could not. So guess
what? I became a hard-charging paratrooper! Since they would not let me fly, I
made the decision to jump from a perfectly good airplane while in flight.
LOL!!! “Airborne—All The Way.” “Then Some!” Ahhh!!!
(for those in Kwangju: May 18, 1980)*
after Dante
Taking this peach within the mouth, the tongue
hovers around its sunset skin like a lover
and its Sappho sweet bite is heaven. A song
of honeysuckled rivers is like your
kiss… The night is in July. At once
Platonic love is redemption or
when the world is beyond our Kwangju…Please
let the streets be freed from anticipation
of the bayonet and gun… Let litter seize
this street or any avenue… Plan
my kiss and we will be happy and free.
The night is the peach---the dead sun…
Recall the dress you wore as a weapon, me
wearing---I forgot… Your raven hair, soft
yet sharp by its embroidery
of strands being held by one silver pin. The left
hand of God and right hands of angels
must have done it… It was my dry throat
drinking from Styx River which made the chills
even more pronounced at the sight of you.
The dress’ print was you. It was petals
of prints within splotches of orange, gold, red, too…
and white--- bandages… Horrible bandages.
I’m wearing black/white. Suddenly we choose
to hug underneath those flickering pages
of streetlights… we an arrow’s color shot through bodies---Rage…
*Excerpted from Chalmers Johnson’s Blowback : The Costs and Consequences of the
American Empire: “General Chun did not wait long after talking with Gleysteen (US
Ambassador to South Korea) to complete the coup d’etat he had begun the previous
December…On May 18, 1980, a few hundred demonstrators in Kwangju took to the streets to
protest the imposition of martial law. They were met by the paratroopers of the 7th Brigade
of the Korean special forces, known as the “black berets,” who had a well known reputation
for brutality going back to their service on the American side in the Vietnam War…Gleysteen
wrote, “Rumors reaching Seoul of Kwangju rioting say special forces used fixed bayonets and
inflicted many casualties on students… Some in Kwangju are reported to have said that
troops are being more ruthless than North Koreans ever were.” [When asked of the decision]
Gleysteen replied, “I grant it was the controversial decision, but it was the correct one. Do I
regret? I don’t think so.” (112-113)
During the Second World War
A decision was made
If brothers were to be lost
The last would be saved
The story below
Is the truth in a way
For the search of a soldier
Before he becomes, theatre pray
The US Government declared
A mission is in plan
Sending a squad of Rangers
To save this solitary man
Capt. John H Miller
With his handful of men
Their dedication to search
For the last of them
For his brothers were lost
In the theatre of war
At Omaha and Utah
In the Pacific, so far
Into Europe they head
From cities through towns
Looking for Ryan
Before he's gunned down
He is eventually found
With Paratroopers, holding onto a key bridge
As a Panzer group advances
Will this be their last ridge
Bullets zipped, pinging
Ricocheting
The flesh of the living
In screaming sing
Their mission was, to
Save Private Ryan
But Capt. John H Miller
With others, died trying
My entry into Frank Herrera's contest
" Describe your favorite performance by Actor or Actress in a movie "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-7.php
Tom Hanks is my favourite actor, and his role as Capt, John H Miller to me
was one of his best, his hunger to complete his mission showed in his acting.
The film was based on a true story, about Fritz Niland who lost two brothers
in Normandy, and a brother M.I.A. in Burma. He was later found alive.
But the military rule about sole surviving son's being allowed out of combat is true.
It was enacted after the five Sullivan brothers were killed in 1942 when the U.S.S.
Juneau was sunk in the Pacific. The rule of the surviving son is common to many
armies, the American, the Canadian, the British and the Israeli.
You've read my rant from yesterday
About those Christmas Letters
But one thing just disturbs me
Those Ugly Christmas Sweaters!!!
You know the ones we love to hate
They're all so scratchy and they itch
You can barely get the damn thing on
And to remove it...it's a *****!!
Pictures of things Christmassy
Like a reindeer all in red
Mine looks like an emaciated cow
with a candelabra on his head
Snowflakes, trees and Norway Spruce
and colours....oh my lord
They can take them back to Norway
and throw them in the fjord!!!
My nan made one for me one year
It was silver with some blue
Turns out she used old brillo pads
Because she liked the soapy hue
They itch and scratch and don't fit right
They are a cancer to my eyes
I had one in green and red
With one sleeve down past my thighs
I thought it was a jumpsuit
The kind the paratroopers wear
The pattern pages stuck together
And that sleeve....went down to there!!!
We all have one hidden away
In a box, 'neath lock and key
In a place so nicely hidden
One we've had since we were three
We never plan to wear one more
We all know that we once did
but, if we had to wear one out
We're gonna buy one for our kids!!!
If you need to get assistance
go to uglysweaters dot o- r- g
They can help you with your wardrobe
Tell them you heard of them from me.
In the mid air like
Paratroopers floating fair
Parachuters in air.
Mad mother me.
I would shout "Paratroopers"
if a mass exodus from the heated house
was in operation, where the heat might escape.
So my daughters would know not to loiter in the doorway.
Mad mother me.
If asked to drive into town at 5pm
I would stamp and shout about traffic cahos.
Even though we live in a small town.
Crawling in traffic was obviously not my thing.
Mad mother me.
I would rant and rave how beautiful their hair was.
Only for them to go and get it thinned out.
So they could attach those expensive hair extensions.
And they thought I was mad??
Mad mother me.
I would procure alcohol in the form of cans of beer.
For my underage drinking, prinking (pre drinking) daughters.
In the hope that in my watching them consume, they would presume
enough was enough, so no more allowed...outside.
Mad mother me.
I would bring them to the G.P.
When they asked me to help them obtain the pill,
to clear up their acne, if you will. Knowing in my heart
after a year with their partner, they were bound to start...
Mad mother me.
I hope in future they will see.
How much love my heart has poured from me.
To give them the best start in life ahead.
And to know if I could have loved them more, I would.
i read and hear online the words
from the other side of the world,
the bearded angst and deeply rutted face
of a soul with far, far too much
sorrow to carry.
my eyes well, as i
cannot help but too,
share in the sorrow
of the loss born by
farmer Muhammad Wazir
Muhammad, from Panjwai district lost:
his mother, Shakarina,
his wife, Zahra,
his four daughters,
Massoma, Farida, Palwasha and Bibya
two of his sons,
Ismatullah and Faizullah,
a brother, Akhtar,
a nephew and
a sister-in-law
Only the youngest son
Habib Shah is still alive
How can a father, a husband,
a son, a brother, bare it?
"I loved them all like
they were parts of my body,...
All my dreams are buried
under a pile of dust now"
Wazir states. "My little boy,
Habib Shah, is the only one
left alive, and I love him
very much" says Wazir.
I have a hard time
with the concept that it
must be God's will
to condemn anyone to this
Did Staff Sgt. Robert Bales
snap like a twig in the
wanton disregard to sanctity
of children and mothers...
civilians. Who can forgive?
...Who can stand it?
Bales' wife Karilyn sends
"condolences to all the people
of the Panjawai District ...
especially to the parents,
brothers, sisters and grandparents
of the children who perished"
Though heartfelt to be sure
she must realize that Bob
is beyond "normal" forgiveness
A strength like the Amish
is needed to look into
enraged hate filled eyes
with tearful forgiveness
What good...what good can
we possibly squeeze from
such tragic carnage?
Maybe God knows that answer.
I can only feel the sorrow.
meanwhile in Toulouse, France
Mr. Mohammed Merah,
a Frenchman of Algerian decent
knows in his heart that
retribution is necessary
and three French paratroopers,
of North African descent,
as well as a Rabbi and
three Jewish schoolchildren,
pay with their lives
the Rabbi, and his two daughters
might have been aware of their
responsibility for the Panjwai
tragedy, perhaps not,
....{continued in 2of2}
© Goode Guy 2012-03-21
Sky paratroopers
coming with quivers of rain
to fight against men
"If there ever comes a time
When you forget your dreams
And wonder what there is in life for you to see
And the burden is too heavy for you to float freely
The stars will come to meet you
They will let gravity grab them and become like
paratroopers
Falling to the ground
Blasting holes in your amnesia as they shoot
and making you remember that there are still things
in this life that are worth seeing and experiencing
Even if just for a brief moment"
An Apache pilot once sought for a treasure
In booze, in fun
Sampling leisure and pleasure
Until an Apache chopper gun
In his attentive ears whispered
Enjoining him to a wound-prone warfront to go
Where the gun the pilot pampered
Soon sadness and recklessness the pilot did forgo
Strafing an egregious enemy
Determined to inflict huge casualties
Until the enemy’s alchemy of blasphemy
Enjoined the pilot to exploit the enemy’s foibles and frailties
Inflicting huge losses on the enemy who by roadsides planted improvised explosives
To kill or maim the pilot’s troopers
When the pilot engaging sibilants and plosives
Alongside paratroopers
Read a crystal ball
Hoping to glean a roadmap
To his life’s call
And Wrap
Up the direction to his future
Engaging first this dame then that dame
In a complex culture
When the crystal ball requested the pilot to stake a claim
On the heart of a feminist damsel
Who the crystal warned was a tough nut to crack
Neither for hire nor for sale
In circumstances within a pesky pack
Teeming with churlish challenges
Which the pilot tackled
Unwrapping and unpacking lozenges
To his Apache chopper buckled
Somewhere in the United States of America
Where the pilot’s eyes and red hair
Flew in search of Erica
With whom he played fair
All of a sudden a way crystal clear
Appeared with a miracle string
Which the brave pilot seized and bending on his knees said, ‘Erica, dear
Allow me on young finger to insert a wedding ring.’