Best Raf Poems


Heroes and Heroines

The character of a hero is one to covet
Through hard work, and exceptional courage
A man of distinction you cannot miss.
Noble full of strength to achieve his goal
Doing all possible according to his ability
One aim, one plan.

Alexander Graham bell and Winston Church hill
Both have a story to tell. Great success, creative ability
To add services to this age. Heroes in their own rights
That left leopard spots in our mind. Beat tough challenges,
Contributed greatly to science, none other this world would
Ever find.

 The same can be said for a heroine, a woman admired
For her courage to achieve outstanding results. A woman 
Of worth, a gift to mankind, a god sent from birth.
Heroines who will never give up, but press their way thru
Life to succeed.  Helen Keller, Madam CJ Walker. One an
Offspring of a slave. The other her all she gave, disabled
And had nothing to crave.

Heroes and heroines, novelist actors and actresses, RAF pilots
Must be honoured  in the very same way. But come to think of 
All that has said and done. My greatest hero and heroine are my
Dad and mom.
© Abraham L  Create an image from this poem.

Aa To Df - the Complete List

AA     TO     DF,    THE COMPLETE    LIST  
   

AA  automobile association – UK’s best
AB  Alberta  - Canadian province in the west
AC  electric currect  alternating
AD  anno domini  - yearsafter Christ’s  coming
AE  famous poet  real name  George William  Russell
AF  air force as in  RAF  -   and  USAF  as well 


Ba   barium – a chemical element
BB   Brigitte Bardot  - attracted every gent
BC   years  before Christ  the Lord 
BD   as in CHMN. of the  BD. = board
Be    beryllium  an element much in use
BF    bloody  fool  -  in UK , polite  abuse


Ca   California – beaches, suntanned crowds  
Cb   cumulonimbus  clouds
CC   cubic centimeters (as in 500cc motorbike)
CD   compact disc.  Or cadmium if you like
CE   civil engineer  (professional designation)
cf     means   “compare”  (Latin abbreviation)


Da    = Russian  for “yes”
Db    decibels  -  measure of sound,  I guess
DC    is where Obama  works his activity
DD    doctor of divinity
De    =  French  for  “of”  or “from”
DF    direction finder - for a plane with a bomb

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Written  for   Debbie Guzzi's Contest  "A.C, D.C.. A.D., B.C."

Cuba

Cuba…Mamma Mia…like most of the Caribbean; part of the 1492 slam…
Slavery, sugar plantations… invasions, upheaval, independence…
Then the American kisses; with a slight twist…who initiated the ’disses’…?
Was it Blaine…is he insane…?
Was it Marti…the heart of the party…?
Or Teller…many say he was the real speller…
Or Estrada Palma…could he have been the calmer…?
Was it San Martin…any questions of his parting…?
Or was it Batista…is he the real twister…?
With his interwove of expansion…then stagnation and dissatisfaction…
Coupled with his increased economic regulation plan…
Was this the spike for the revolution…?
Enter Castro; was he the real maestro…his thoughts, his plans; communize the land…?
Centralize, non-democratize…ostracize, reorganize…
The politics…were they laden in tricks…?
The CIA; not here to stay… but what role did they play…?
When they realize the RAF size…what will they emphasize…?
With great plans to defeat…did they end in retreat…?
Now with Eisenhower…speculations of a great shower…
But after only months…fixation shift to ouster hunts…
Severed diplomatic relations…the new sensation…
Impositions of trade embargo…the ‘Fargo’ in my cargo…?
The ‘Bay of Pigs’…will you understand the gigs…?
The ‘Cuban Missile Crisis’…what was this Tri-fit…?
The military games…were these substances in flames…?
For a superpower war…or the everlasting scars…?
Of suppression, political persecution…migration, and interventions…
In Angola, and Ethiopia…from Nicaragua to North Africa…
To the Congo…to some say; ‘Jah Mek Yah’…?
Cooperation with Russia…was this the real crusher…?
The mid-eighties…the beginning of their ending gaiety’s…?
The dissolving of the Soviet Union…continuation of the country’s isolations…
Reduced rations…the new fashion…
Unpainted buildings…now the in-thing…
Old vehicles with limited repairs…any scares…?
Lack of electricity…did it colour the ethnicity…?
A country on the verge…is there a new urge…?
Tourist attraction…one logical concoction…
Amidst the flow…of system many Cubans know…
The US now attests…it is in the country’s interest…
Cuba has withstood the test…put the embargo to rest…?


Remembering Again

My freedom, my interactivity, 
I owe to you and your stickability, 
Tho’ you be dead and dumb to me, 
You have a voice in my vocality. 

The cemeteries and the epitaphs, 
Are the courage and valour graphs, 
Defining the mechanism, the paths, 
Of the affirming victory day laughs. 

I do not patronise the direct benefit, 
Of remembering our heroes, the fit, 
Because they did conquer and out wit, 
Communism, death the Nazi’s pit. 

Near to me through my late RAF dad, 
Through his terror and in the hell he’d had;
It was for us that they were deeply mad, 
Intent on life by ending Nazism bad. 

Thankful for this November time of year, 
It's a time to appreciate those near, 
To ISIS, to the enemies that we fear, 
So that we can live and love clear.

A Touch of Nostalgia Fitton Hill Story Group Short Version

A TOUCH OF NOSTALGIA (Fitton Hill Story Group)
When we were little we would all gather                                                                                                                          our favorite toys – a fireman and ladder,                                                                                                                         an aircraft carrier and RAF plane,                                                                                                                                a wooden top and whip, with marbles in the rain.                                                                                                         

We’d make our own toys, from shoeboxes and planks,                                                                                                          houses and go-carts – whatever we could chance.
The best toys we ever saw were wooden bricks and Meccano,                                                                                                       a walking, talking singing doll, Tin Can Alley and Lego.                                                                                                  We’d peer at the train-set through the window of the toyshop                                                                                             with a slot outside where your coin would drop.

Our favorite games with friends we’d play.                                                                                                                 Snakes and ladders, hopscotch, darts on a rainy day,                                                                                               in the house and on the street.                                                                                                                               Through army games we’d make believe -                                                                                                                   “Gather the troops, prepare to battle                                                                                                                         bring your sticks, perfect your Sten Gun rattle!”

Red Step In the Blitz

-
Drones abound the London sky 
Search lights stray and flick to something and nothing
The bicycle dings its bell every sixth house 
As the warden swishes his front tyre left and right up the empty evening street
The council house drapes of black and brown are shut tight regulation tight

He's coming he's coming tape up tape up she shouts
Don't want another fine for light
The grub is ready at the back door for a quick dash to the air-raid shelter in the night
Sirens whail and bellow and bomber engines humm in ever louder melts

Fire fire and the engines leave the call centre and head the regular route to the city
God bless em souls the dear old lady calls as she stirs the black current jam
Whistling bombs and Stucker dives throttle and hurtle a miss
But they land too well and devastate the docklands and the strip

Hell's fire rages along the wharfs as fire-ships spray the warehouses
Brave soles are they who stay out amid the descending droplets of terror
Face the wrath of Germany's luftwaffe who continue to pour water and pull souls
And morning cannot come fast enough for to French shores a retreat 

Arrival of Dawn and the last bombers chug away hasseled by the RAF
And down descends a lonely Tommy ace one of our own bewildered lads
Parachute wrapped and Tommy sitting on Sally's polished red front door-step
Here are her two prides of joy: One sitting on the other; the live one her brother.

(One of her biding memories of the London Blitz)

Night time Bombing raid in London's fair City during Second World War
© Ian Foley  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Operation Dynamo

Exodus on a massive scale
1940 under assail
Three hundred thousand
Fathers and sons
Dunkirk evacuation
From the Hun
 
Armada 
Not seen for hundreds of years
To save our hero's, relay their fears
1500 ships of many sorts
Arrived on mass
Naval escort
 
British and French
Beached and battered
Quest to save Europe
Defeated and shattered
 
Queues of troops
Line the sands
Await their fate
Strands of man
 
Luftwaffe scream over head
Drop their cargo, inevitable dead
Explosions softened, by the Dunkirk sands
Saved so many of the waiting strands
 
Hail the sky, the RAF
Contained the hun from machine gun strafe
Their dedication in foggy skies
The ultimate saving of many lives
 
The aftermath of this unbelievable task
And the dedication of this incredible ask
Organisation on the grandest scale
For in the future we will not fail
To free Europe, another Armada will sail
 
" Dedicated to the many men liberated from the beaches at Dunkirk,
              who returned to do, what only hero's can do " 
            *,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,*


            http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php

Continuation of Brodskys History of the Twentieth Century

Continuation of Brodsky’s History of the Twentieth Century 

1918.  A flu pandemic in Spain takes hold, 
From Kansas over the seas in America bold, 
Women’s suffrage win the vote, 
Their opinion is not remote, 
Russia switches from the Julian calendar, 
To the Gregorian, the west’s larder, 
Russia agrees the world war to leave,
To forsake the German swastika sleeve,  
UK navy air flying squad merges with RAF, 
To make one dynamic force, to the Nazi’s deaf, 
The Finnish civil war ends which did distract, 
Germany away from their vile, aggressive act, 
Nazareth and Forest of Argonne battles won, 
Allied forces break the Hindenburg line rung,  
The First World War ends with freedom standing, 
Democracies will liberate and love undemanding,
Austria, Czech, Hungary become Republics grand,
A peace conference is held in Paris’s free land. 

The man of the year is William C “Billy” Durant, 
The founding owner and President of General Motors, 
He engineers automobiles with speed, at some current, 
Like sliced bread off a line to be given coasters. 

(Billy Durant) 

After Billy bought Chevrolet motors,
Of Delaware, to take the market’s rotors, 
He made its head into a new entity, 
In General Motors company identity,
But this man, called Pierre S DuPont, 
Stole his presidency with great foe,
So this chief man Billy bought bowling alleys, 
But died unknown to his lucrative days:
But Durant asserted in money terms our friend,
Technology, after which the war did quickly end.


Reference: History of the Twentieth Century by Joseph Brodsky

Phil Davenport

RAF navigator Ron Day and I took of from Banff, Scotland,
I was in the RAAF, an Australian, and we flew in formation:
40 Mosquitos to attack German ships in Norway land,
In a harbour, Porsgrunn, but then came an acclamation.

“Bandits three o’clock! “,  and so we did not strike a ship, 
But broke away left and flew ’til I spotted sand on a beach,
But as i got closer realised it was Norwegian ice, no quip, 
So the landing damaged us, plane and all, but we did reach. 

After unjamming my leg, i paddled up to the surface, 
With relief saw Ron afloat in his life jacket, life raft burst;
We felt mentally and physically numb and did brace, 
We struggled, but heard a man from a boat shout in lust. 

The farmers carried and cared for us, or cared for Ron, 
But they told me “Germans come,” so we left by a pony, 
I sat and shivered in the cart, then took a car to Oslo bon, 
Our uniforms were yellow stained by the lake, very shabby. 

We were then taken to hospital, but i ended up in prison, 
And on Monday the 30th of April 1945 Hitler killed himself,
And we knew informally we were free, def by the elision, 
When a guard gently touched my back, himself to shelf. 

That was when the war in Europe was over for me, then, 
But we had to await official victory when RAF men came,
However, before that, just to be sure, we left for the glen, 
‘Cos the Luftwaffe general was contradicting the game.

We got back to London and i left for Australia on Orion, 
And the celebrations would’ve lost control for alcohol, 
‘Cos I’d found out that my brothers were alive and on:
We birthed, the collective mind reacted, but not us all.

Bill Geiger

My uncle went to West Point Military Academy, 
Was the second US citizen to be a licensed pilot, 
So I thought my knowledge would help everybody, 
So I became an Eagle, an American RAF pilot. 

We all signed up September 1940, keenly poised,
But did not attend school at Glendale until December,
In California where we flew in formation, noised, 
And did some night flying and acrobatics, I remember. 

Then we went to England, a very big adventure, 
You were pretty pleased with yourself, I thought, 
I felt obliged to do my part in this conjecture, 
And I just hoped I could do it, ‘cos I was bought. 

We didn’t feel that we were serving England only, 
Just everybody, it was for everybody, my piloting,
But I got much guts and courage from old Blighty, 
‘Cos the British people were resilient in suffering. 

They would work all day and quench fires at night, 
And sleep in the London subways, not embarrassed, 
And brought me breakfast if I landed with a plight, 
Away from home, they’d send me back harnessed. 

The first mission was pretty scary, but you’d get it, 
And then you’d be proud doing what you knew, 
But in the summer of 1941 we lost 9 pilots, were hit,
And I went back for another, gave the Nazi’s a cue.

I was hit, over water which I hated, was scared of, 
But I tried and tried to open my canopy, couldn’t, 
Until at the last when the plane was near the shove, 
My friend Gussie pointed to the corner, was prudent. 

So my glass covering opened and I escaped glad, 
Parachuted down down into the sea to be picked up, 
By a German boat, they sent me away as a man mad, 
To a concentration camp, for over three years, yup.

Jon-Allan Butterworth

Whilst Jon-Allan was out Iraq to warfare ban, 
In 2007 he sustained an injury, rocket attack, 
So that doctors had to amputate his left arm, 
But after rehab he continued the sport’s crack. 

He’d been a weapons technician in the RAF, 
At Basra airbase, and before that Afghanistan, 
But he was now on a programme so to quaff, 
Any idea that he wasn’t good at cycling’s pun. 

He took the limelight at the London games, 
When he won three silvers for para-cycling:
One for the C5 Individual Pursuit, sole aims,
One for the mixed team sprint very cunning,

And another silver for the C4-5 1km Time Trial!
Then 2016, and he won gold for the mixed team, 
And also a silver medal for the C5 kilo Time Trial
In Montichiari, and so made the Rio GB Team.

Unknown Sighting

One night I saw an unusual sight
gliding across the sky,
moving along quite slowly
and it didn’t seem very high.

Shining like a beam of light
but silent as a cloud,
surrounded by a pale blue mist
which acted as a shroud.

Shaped just like a boomerang
but it’s metal shone so bright,
even through the misty aura
It needed no other light.

I followed with my eyes
for as far as I could see,
but I soon lost sight of it
when my vision was blocked by a tree.

Later I tried to find out
just exactly what I had seen,
even enquired at an RAF base
but they didn’t seem very keen.

I will always have the memory
but nothing else to show,
what it was I saw that night
I guess I’ll never know.

Pause

Showers light or hard
bring cleansing and a pause
to your current ritual 
forcing amnesia of your flaws. 

A gift from up above
to remind your of your love
to lay back and paddle back
to memories you don't speak of. 

Rain rain stay all day
pour so we are forced to be
glued to our habitat
relaxing drinking green tea. 

Stable in our stance on life
our own decisions based to fit
current situations that
permit growth without rif raf. 

Nothing sudden, nothing feared
Past is gone, you renewed your life.
Layed your body over coals
Future predicts no surprising strife.

To Be Inhaled

Micro-particular molecular particles whose properties carry less mass at any given time typically are airborne, only to be respired and absorbed through means of respiration. 
Exhaled only to be once again; inhaled. 
Trapped inside inner linings of esophageal passages. 
Buoyantly escaping; light-like-quick. 
Tumbling like a cyclonic feather.
Blue rays with ultrasonic transfers of unconditional compromises shine light on this symbiotic shrubbery. 
Rif-raf relief is a resulted byproduct or so-called "nuisance dust."
Unequivocal numeric figures comparable to such matter, couldn't positively identify with no such indication. 
The previous possession will remain under further investigation. 
Breath in.
Breath out. 
Tumbling airborne once being transferred or transformed. 
De-composition turns flesh into bone, leaving behind symbiotic shrubbery; discarded rif-raf. 
Rispired and absorbed through means of respiration. 
Exhaled only to be once again; 
Inhaled. 

4-21-15 
10:08pm 

Ironic Zinc.. .

Premium Member Damned By the Bomb

Lancaster formations
One two and three
To attack the dams
Off Industrial Germany
 
Targets to hit
In the Ruhr valley
Power providers
Canal alley
 
RAF Scampton
Near Lincoln they load
This barrelled bomb
Bounced to explode
 
Runway lined
Engines roar
Crews ready 
Tally Ho!
 
Flying low to reach their quest
Allied pilots at their best
Flak explodes all around
As the Germans hear our engine sounds
 
Targets reached as they circle round
To gauge their height as it bounces sound
Steady steady let her go
As it hits the water
First bounce slow
 
Second bounce, momentum gain
These dams, not to be the same
Clinical strike as it hits the wall
Sinks, explodes 
Crumbling walls
 
Minutes pass
As the crew's look back
To observe the severity of the attack
Nearly out of sight, as the walls finally gave
Cascades of water in thunderous rage
 
The Möhne and Eder breached as planned
Missions accomplished on these German dams
German war effort, hampered for a spell
As for the rest of the conflict
Time would tell


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace