Best Propulsion Poems
The city of Prague
In a different world
Its centre ripped
The whole world heard
Its now separated by
Canyons so deep
The day it happened
To hear a country weep
Beautiful buildings
Fell away
Architectural delights
Toppled on sway
But the city recovered
No bridges to be seen
Ingenious in genius
Sky Gondola's reign
To cross this great city
From north to south
Over the gaping rift
Above the canyons mouth
Gondola shaped
Zeppelin for lift
Tiller propeller
Propulsion shift
Sky taxis
In ariel flow
With their lanterns lit
Like glowworms glow
This sight i view
With my pal Jules Verne
Inspires his writes
As generations will learn
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy4.php
The umbra of my Soul's eclipse,
Stellar dweller cosmic ships.
Solar flares and lunar lairs-
Blackest Holes and deep abyss...
Photo gamma satellite,
Telescopic magnetite.
Anti-Matter fusion shatters
Super-Nova afterlife
Gravimetric poly-synthetic-
Nano vortex optic aesthetic
(Overloaded circuits exploded!)
Isotopic pseudo-frenetic
Electromagnetic static compulsion;
Subatomic particle propulsion;
Supersonic chronic convulsion-
Microscopic mega emulsion.
Toxic, caustic antiseptic,
Hyperactive epileptic;
Hydroponic telekinetic-
Quantum neuro cybernetic
Paralyzed by all the Lies,
Erratic, manic muffled cries...
Catastrophic chaotic logic-
Conflicted, afflicted--dies!
If pigs could fly it wouldn’t be good
You’d have to go out with a brolly
Wear Wellington boots and waterproof suits
Life wouldn’t be happy or jolly
There’d be danger around every corner
You’d think in your car you’d be safe
But unless you’re under some cover
Either you or your car they will strafe
The Towns would be dirty and smelly
And slippery in the extreme
We’d have to employ a small army
In an effort to keep the streets clean
Now don’t you get all of a fluster
For the scientists haven’t yet found
The means of piggy propulsion
Or getting the beasts off the ground
If one day this nightmare should happen
It won’t come as any surprise
If they manage to get piggies airborne
Then the price of bacon will rise
© John W Fenn 17-01-2009
The chocolate box melts slowly on the fire,
The cards and diamonds captivate no more,
The champagne cork exploded free of wire,
Lies propulsion spent upon the floor.
The wine is growing tepid in the glasses,
The lingerie upon the hanger stays,
Time fades into time as daylight passes,
Moon and stars hold sway with silver rays.
They matter not, these tokens of devotion,
Materialistic symbols of esteem,
What matters is their source of pure emotion,
The love that rules the day for they who dream.
Happy Valentine's Day!
May you realise your heart's desire.
T.
Energy’s Suffocating Gallop
by Odin Roark
Ancient blood soaked sand
Plumes its sticky residue
Beneath rapacious hooves
Dust storms of evil stampeding beside pipelines
Goad flow to tankers
Where ubiquitous black gold addiction
Steers toward pervasive profit-docks
Behind sweat lathered greed
Winds of historic baggage
Tether their historic words and song
Blessings and curses
Exciting swirling vortexes
Windmills of molten fire
Entitlement’s rape and pillage of breath
Of pores once absorbing purity
Evil’s global bubble
Appearing as mankind'
Robed in white zealotry
The blinded hawk-minds
Embrace the Middle East predatory contaminant
Wallowing in solipsistic riches forgotten
Awake only to pick tomorrow’s gluttonous prey
The world turns on turbine propulsion
With oceans bowing to its slavery
Delivering liquid smokestack suffocation
Silent killers preparing ghosts
Of time’s new-century-plague
Ignored
As oil gorged tankers find port
Release their pandemic sleight of hand
A destruction as innocent as rabbits from a hat
Charms the ignorant
Beguiles the wannabes
Wheeled transport
Delivers the demise of children’s hearts
Left to take a number
Unaware there is no lottery
Only loser-consciousness
Adult indulgence clinging desperately
To evil’s mane and tail
As it whips gullible eyes
Into cataract submission
Alien life hovers above
Grieving the minions destined
To find black energy’s ashen dust
Sprinkling its fool’s gold
Upon a barren planet
paddling out
in a stylised freezer container
sustainable propulsion
for a fossil fuel by-product boat
he floats into blue tranquillity
watching the bottom slide by
as rocks weeds and shellfish
give way to the unfathomable
he navigates his speck of flotsam
into a world
where cormorants bathe
and stingrays bask in the sun
his cares
stranded on a sandy beach
their urgency diminishing
in a shrinking line of importance
paddling into blue
his thoughts ripple
like wind gusts
stirring but brief
internally focussed
waves rise like an epiphany
dragging him in
to an uncharted future
There was a wild drink-craving pair
Who an Aussie airliner’s fuel did share.
It made in their guts masses of gases
Propelling them south via their asses.
Maori swear they’re Maero from thin air.
The runway runs into her trained eyes
like a roadway that rushes red
into the dreams of her electrified soul,
she's so pretty in her disciplined perfection
a young body that knows years of rigor and ritual
with a mind measured for acrobatic ambition,
she's run this gauntlet so many times before
but the danger and thrill is somehow new,
her hands and feet are stained with bone chalk
memories of fingers, toes, ankles and wrists
twisted, torn and bent in pursuit of excellence,
her ears close to the crowd
she is in her own arena at this moment
no judges, no spectators, no competitors
just the trail to olympic truth
and that ancient apparatus, the vault,
the one she loves and fears,
vulnerable in her scarlet athletic elegance
Team, God and Country
are the drumbeats of her heart right now,
nerves of gold and breaths of bravery
fuel her focused desire to be the very best,
she draws a line on the mat with her foot
everyone knows the score
and everyone knows what the dare is,
the sprint begins with a wildcat spirit
total commitment, no blinks, no doubts,
no stopping this star girl
impeccable thrust to the floor
backflip to the vault for a stellar catapult
hands on the block in harmony
producing a body torque of tight spring propulsion
and she's up like an arrow to the lights
arms X'd over her breast
head high to the heavens
spinning upside down with sweet finesse
an audience in awe of her abeyance,
she lands like a landmark lovely and undeniable in grace
no stumble, no stutter, only stupendous balance
feet firm, legs straight and back curved with class,
she throws her arms back as an angel appeased in glory -
J.A.B.
In the 2012 Olympic Games in London
McKayla Maroney executed the most beautiful and perfect
vault jump in the history of gymnastics,
guaranteeing the U.S. women a gold medal victory.
This poem is dedicated to her immaculate beauty...Justin A. Bordner
The extraterrestrial guest and sovereign of blue bloods
and son of the most reverent ancient tribe and octopus’s cousin
you have been setting on emperor’s throne
from early Silur
in yours great ocean capital Ur
since 400 million years ago,
presenting for future
the jet propulsion engine,
you have been the perfect creature
primarily
and marvel of universe
with you timeless shape and rockets like semblance.
You are the worthiest successor
of the dying mankind,
this trick of nature and instant caprice.
Among the human and humanoids
extraterrestrial
who might doubt really
for your right and legitimacy
to the eternal ruling
yours majesty of cephalopods
and blue exelences?
You survived through all calamities and crisis
outlived by Erath in its long history
even falling to planet the greatest asteroids,
hiding himself on the bottom of ocean.
Even in case of the worthiest scenario
If our Globe would have been captured by Black Hole,
the Squid, your majesty, know how climb out
from that gravitational barrel
tossing up his long stretching tentacles
with powerful suckers and pointed teeth at the ends
he know as catch the seismic hubs and anchored them.
So you will able encountered and inhabited
step by step
on his supersensitive and sharp legs
did picturesque by Salvador Dali,
the whole universe.
In her structures and secrets you understand much more
then all our futurists and scientists combed together.
And Mankind from the ancient centures
has suspected in dreams and nightmares
this creatures
as his own most advanced competitor and successor
who will rise for the ruling by Earth once
on the base his truly right,
the coolest quality of his blue blood,
on the priority of birth, immeasurable history
and testifying by heck a long times.
Glistening peaks of waves in the moonlight,
soft and tender lapping at water 's edge
as the beach welcomed the incoming.
Anticipating the velocity of tidal thrusts,
sands quivering shifting limbs nervously
as wave after wave bombarded the shoreline.
Lost in motion all indifferent to the cry of pebbles
as waves incessantly lashed rugged rocks
while sea sprays pampered their anguish
from the chiseled process of sculptured stones.
Propulsion of heavy ocean waters entering,
filling every cavern with rocket motions as air
forced out in tensed release culminating
in the screams of blowholes.
In the aftermath, leaving a heady sparkling
trivia of tiny bubbles bursting with joy.
Glistening tears on her cheeks, she waited
Winds whipping her face while dread aged
her breathing as each desire vacillated.
Waiting, yearning for his kiss, that soft touch
of cool sea-mist brushing her lips,
the musky smell of him massaging
her every sense with heady erotic aromas.
As dawn broke, dreams of unrequited love
also shattered against razor-sharp reefs
leaving in splinters, micro-chips from his
wooden heart with coded messages for each
beach damsel awaiting his next surfing of local nets.
Whispers of breakers as tide neared rising,
dwindling hopes of ever birthing her silent
longings, moulding his pleasures with her being.
Waves took not only her hopes but also his shifty
footprints, leaving only froth on fickle sands.
The light once so bright
In the humble dandelion,
The power that amazed us
In the migrating birds,
The patterns so intriguing
In frost on the window
Are not lost forever, merely
Held in reserve,
Awaiting sweet release
From the numbing effect
Of fixed preoccupations,
From the stealthy separation
Of projected self-propulsion.
06 February 2010
Dream of Sailing
By: Noel N. Villarosa
Never sailed on a three-masted sailboat
Where it bustles to find a smooth wave
Where the wind is its engine
And heels above at the wave’s commotion
Feel the quiver of disappearing in a trough
Then mightily emerging to open water
To stand atop the mast
And feels the strong wind to drown my breath
It fills me with gobsmacked
To sail past on the Seine river
Or ride to a replica of Argo
And sails in the famous canal of Athens
To smell the ocean mist
To rein in the wind for propulsion
And touch the boat sails as it moved downwind
Hear the recoil of bow wave along the hull
The beauty and grandeur of a sailboat
Only to picture, my dream is outlined
The anchor never lifted, the mast never stretched
Only a message in the bottle keeps floating on blue water with my dream of sailing
Honorable Mention to Carol Brown's If My Dream Could Come True: 3/18/2010
A long long time ago, actually it was much further back than that
No one really knows the date as it's become just a human stat
Somewhere out there, the universe was set alive
And it's taken millions of years to realise it's not our prize
It's so hard to get your head around, the events on that day
Where science as we know it, raised it's head to say
From the particle dust, as it swirls in past eons of time
Planets that we have come to know, or we'll discover as our space age climbs
They said we would never find water, on the Moon or the planet Mars
Deep inside our sleeping satellite, behind those lunar scars
Only a few years back, we impeded on it's crater scarred scape
And followed up with a probe, and the readings we can now relate
To leave our planet earth, rocket propulsion desires water
It's part of mans science mix, to the universe and her daughters
What we have discovered is not much, it could be enough for our very next step
If we actually agree to behave ourselves, the very next step is not so inept
A long long time ago, actually it was much further back than that
All that us humans dream, will become our histories stats
if you never risk
brisk snap of willow's propulsion
how will you know
The Wonderful Magnet
The magnet is a wonderful thing, as it is
made from iron extracted from the ground
becoming a magnet from it's magnetic
properties from the Earth, being buried over
centuries it has become vital to man.
with the abilities to attract metal and also
repel metal with a different polarity, as
like poles repel and unlike poles will attract
this amazing piece of iron can be used in
various products: generators, motors and
may even be the solution to anti-gravity
and propulsion of space vehicles that could
travel to distant planets and beyond, back
in earlier times people believed the magnet
may be a creation of the Devil, as being a
material capable of pointing North, a form of
scourcery or even witchcraft, where in actual
fact it was science, used in the creation of the
compass, something that every boy scout
would use in camping, and many other uses today.