I said to the class,
"Now the first thing we're going to do, is feed this poem."
& I asked my friends, "Do you want to help me write an Arthurian epic?"
They replied, "Do we?!"
My son is writing a story, with a character called Professor Question-Mark
My daughter believes we're taking a plane somewhere every night
I picked up my children on the last day of their summer camp,
With my son running out the automatic doors uttering, "Let's get out of here."
Hundreds of pounds down the drain
Mad cheddar
Mad stacks of cabbage and
Post traumatic Christmas disorder
In the King's chamber at Windsor Castle
The audioguide informs tourists of its decorative history
Before announcing the bed in question in front of us is not the actual bed
A man groans and walks off
My mum asks me to go check on my dad in the public bathroom
I knock on the cubicle and say, "Dad, are you in there?"
He replies, "Yeah."
We find him at Victoria Square and I realise it wasn't him
There is mad screaming from another carriage on the train
I know we are near our station
If all goes well
airlines will sell
seats by the pound
the less you weigh
the less you pay
to fly the world around
and yet
if a commercial Russian airliner jet
unfortunately
crashed into the sea
would there be
Aeroflotsam on the ocean
fragmented and floating free?
It's a riddle
inside a mystery
wrapped in an enema
from 1939 Soviet Union history.
if any jet ever broke the sound barrier
it must have been this jet
her loudness assaulted our silence
awakening sleeping elves and gnomes
ROSE dear, in you I see my control gear
RISE from your doubts, feel not any fear
HOT looks of yours, makes me totally wet
HOP and hug me, for you I readied a jet
WAG to me you become, to have my kith and kin
WAR of any kind on earth, for you I will surely win
10th place
it's three in the morning
i'm so awake it's euphoric
i want to feel this way forever
drunk on translucence
the creases in the pillow beam at my exhilaration
God-fearing doughnuts and coffee
James Cameron was so excited by 2001
he vomited outside the screening
i listen to the sax solo and want to vomit too
what am i going to do?
'don't worry' the song begins
'i won't hurt you.'
i would never hurt you either Prince
she sings she wants to take me higher
she can't
i don't really wanna fight no more
don't leave the cap off the toothpaste babe
The post-trip recovery
From Sri Lanka situation,
The jet lag situation,
Is not
What it
Once was
Because his body
Is not
What it
Once was.
I want to fly as fast as a fighter jet
Not me, his sister said.
I want to fly as fast as a hummingbird.
This made the little boy giggle.
Fighter jets fly faster! He said.
Look it up, said his sister.
Because she already had.
So she knew hummingbirds fly twice as fast as fighter jets.
Now, he knew too…
Which meant he stopped giggling.
I hear the term bandied about
azure seas, endless beach,
Thinking of the far off lands
That took days and days to reach.
Longing for the tropics,
Baffled by the length of flight,
To finally land on distant shores,
Unaware if day or night.
Dark and light, time zones
Knowing relatives who sleep
Dwell in the antipodean
As toward the sun we creep.
Someone is always waking
While another rests their head,
One arrives at work
And a further breaks daily bread.
Gaining hours, losing days,
Tired beyond all hope,
Modern travel is too fast
For the body-clock to cope.
According to those who fly alone on a jet
We ain’t ruined the planet, not quite, not just yet
Thus, they keep flying’ to sound the alert
That Mother Earth’s wounded, yes, she’s really hurt
But first, off to France for a nice frothy malt
Tip toe past China cuz it ain’t their fault
I’ll avoid all the places where bullets are flyin’
Right here on our streets where our youngsters are dyin’
Listen to preachers and pols boldly lyin’
None of ‘em hear the families cryin’
Then off to the beach for a wave runner race
And a shot of Botox to firm up my face
Then off to the party, I think I’ll impress
In my brand new rainbowy flowery dress
So I’ll bid you farewell and please do not fret
There’s only two engines on this freakin’ jet
©7/14/2023
victorian jet
long string of well-crafted beads
treasured memento
sepia image
with grandmother wearing beads
past elegance viewed
my own photograph
wearing the same string of jet
family heirloom
Fluffy's joined the jet set
in the upper stratosphere
where the cirrus clouds are wispy
just like her touzled hair.
Is she off to Tokyo
or maybe to LA?
When dogs have joined the jet set
it's difficult to say.
But what about her carbon count?
It must be very high.
More local earthbound walkies
should reduce her need to fly.
Jet Stream
Somewhere in between here and all around
People searching in the back of ones mind
Well there is a mix of belonging or trying to find ones way
in the one life that occurs to be true
And a mixture of things
Beauty and boredom
Losing and or winning
or just making it
in the mix without really ever
finding the answers you search for
in any life
All of this
In the Jet Streams that change
all the time
I had always thought
And I know it makes little sense
some days
Since it all does seem so very much
some what random, or coincidental,
or perhaps even more to the point
unrehearsed.
Folded as neatly as any origami piece
I fashioned my saber-jet flight ready
And aimed it at my third-grade squeeze
When the teacher said, “Milton, please!”
Unfortunately, missing my target, darn,
It zig-zagged far to the left, then steady
Flew right into the window aquarium
When the teacher said, “Milton, please!”
Retrieving my water-saturated missile
Which was dripping fuel onto the floor
I was petrified by my apparent disgrace
When the teacher said, “Milton, please!”
Creeping back to my seat in disgrace
While expecting, as a result, the worst
In my effort my sweetheart to appease
When the teacher said, “Milton, please!”
Written August 14, 2022
[based on a true experience]
Submitted to "Paper Airplanes" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Time is the strictest and most honest man
I ever see
Man like to tell beautiful lies
To restrict aging, to maintain youth
Amazing and wonderful
But no matter what are the efforts
All will be ended up by white lies themselves
No matter where're the longitude and latitude
Jet lag is only for the eyes
But not for the body
The biological clock
The life span
Where time is the only judge
Oh, without this jet phobia, here's what I'd do:
Go traveling to Bimini, then on to Peru.
We'd hop on an aeroplane, and be there by noon.
We'd take in the sights, hike up Machu Picchu.
It sure would be fun if I could go with you…
The aeroplane's my enemy; I know this is true.
The pilot's a nightmare, and I don't trust the crew.
I'd travel the world; wish that dream could come true.
To hurtle through space leaves me nerves all unglued,
And I lose my resolve just like smoke through a flue.
Can't break away on holiday; this fear, I can't lose.
So I flip on the telly, take a journey, then snooze.
—————
To the tune of “Pavement Artist” (also “Chim Chim Cher-ee”)
From the musical “Mary Poppins”
Written on 03/13/2022
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