You will know your dad
when you too became a dad!
You shall feel glad
when you realize, he was your launch pad!
You will appreciate his wisdom
when you shoulder responsibilities of the kingdom!
You will realize his care
when he was dissolved into the air!
You will dearly miss him
when alone, against the tides of life, you swim!
You shall honour his glory
when you will appreciate his story!
You shall praise, he is the prize
while he is alive and if you are wise!
Dedicated to all Fathers on this International Father's Day (third Sunday of June)!
Categories:
launch pad, dad, emotions, family, father,
Form: Couplet
Surrounded by my paintings around my desk,
Closest one I see the missile launch pad painting,
Under the dark Hawaiian Island skies,
Lighted palm tree and the streak of missile path,
Spent thirty years working there, relates to my heart.
Next, I watch a Bob Ross style painting,
A snow-capped cabin, land and all the trees,
The sky is crimson, with a hazy sun,
Its so serene, it invokes my tranquil thoughts.
Moving along, I am on the banks of a river in Bengal,
On one side, a deer stands looking at the water, afraid to drink,
A tiger stands growling on the other side of river,
My instructor wanted harmony, and suggested they should not be on the same side of river,
Next, a painting of our city manmade lake,
With the bald California mountains overlooking the lake,
The willow tree, oak tree, and a cherry tree, along the sidewalk,
Pair of ducks wading in water, seagulls resting little further away,
Seagulls and geese flying overhead, the scenery made my day.
Categories:
launch pad, passion,
Form: Free verse
My mother counted meatballs
As she plunked them in the pot.
When I exercise, I count each rep
So I know what is what.
We’ve been told to count our blessings
And, of course, to count the change.
Counting sheep to an insomniac
Would surely not seem strange.
A dieter counts calories.
(For that, please count me out.)
A KO’d boxer hears the count
And knows he’s lost, no doubt.
A countdown at a launch pad
Lets us know that blast off’s near
And the thought that counts reminds us
What we want might not appear.
If you’re counting on an ending
To this little counting spree
Then don’t worry since you know that you
Can always count on me.
Categories:
launch pad, word play,
Form: Rhyme
For My Daddy with Endless Love
decide … phone people … arrangements need made …
cannot pick … call who … where … when … oh, casket …
my world just stray-shattered fully dismayed
and pain’s pall stretch-burns me like thin plastic
BLUE MORNING - just took Dad …
hued my fragile blunt-sad --
my brain’s left its launch pad ~
no thoughts compose ~
tears fully oppose
planning-time throes.
in Dad’s home, his feel has not yet strayed ~
my known hangs in vague creases of tragic ~
whisper-feels from clothes, Daddy-scent-clad …
bring him to me via my grieving nose
Categories:
launch pad, bereavement, clothes, dad, death,
Form: Rhyme
Waves pushed a torrent of power and might.
Against the tiny creature seemingly lost in the night.
With only the moon to navigate her path,
Little seahorse galloped—
Giddy up—giddy up—
Hungry suitors let her pass, tonight peace without wrath.
Hippocampus—was her genus, a clever equine design.
Upright she rocked, the shallow temperate sea brine.
With back and forth swiftness, and straight ahead scurry,
Little seahorse galloped—
Giddy up—giddy up—
Her love patiently waiting, she approached in a hurry.
Bequeathed to but one, her monogamous beau.
His sack carrying offspring, soon released in the flow.
She focused on him, and the time now at hand,
United they galloped—
Giddy up—giddy up—
Till they stopped in the moonlight, and knelt in the sand.
Together they witnessed their family emerge.
Dad’s brood pouch and safety, quickly empty and purged.
Fully formed miniatures, resembling Mother and Dad,
A thousand new seahorses now galloped away—
Giddy up—giddy up—
The obscurity of sea grass, their new life’s launch pad.
Categories:
launch pad, birth, family, horse, inspirational
Form: Narrative
One rocket on the launch pad....----------------------------
10..........
9.........
8........
7.......
6......
5.....
4....
3...
2..
1.
we have ignition
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2018©
4/19/18
Categories:
launch pad, adventure, flying,
Form: List
Cruz croppin' cruz control,
contralateral craw fishing on the soul-
grounding intimidation,
growling conversations,
growing in the grooms greatest advantageous...
Glowing-
gory the launch pad goal,
cloning calamity's spindrift off the walls of the show.
Categories:
launch pad, boat, christian, dad, dark,
Form: Blank verse
Son of a legend, and the greatest of Danes,
A towering keeper with success in his veins,
From a boy at United he’s developed and grown,
And now Kaspar Schmeichel as a Champion is known.
A tireless worker on the right of defence,
With both pace and great timing mixed with tactical sense,
Though with less of the fuss that surrounds his team mates,
Danny Simpson belongs on the roll of fox greats.
The captain of Austria and a bit of a lad,
Though defensive at first, an attacking launch pad,
He is sure to be present in the history books,
He’s our Austrian left back, Christian Fuchs.
A man or a mountain, or a Teutonic knight,
Standing strong in the tackle, always up for the fight,
He’s a twice honoured champion, not too long in the tooth
He is known by just one word, and that word is Huth.
He’s the captain of captains, he’s our fearless fox leader,
Made a bang in the premier like a blue Al Queda,
He is Wesley (Wes) Morgan or Big Wes to his mates,
And he’s up there with Walsh and the rest of the greats.
Categories:
launch pad, football,
Form: Blank verse
in stillness and contended peace within this very moment here-&-now,
it is very clear that nothing much needs be done;
perfection and ultimate joy is present right now.
Tasting this feeling with all senses of my humanity has motivated me indefinitely
toward it's luster-&-gleam ~ it's warm comfort, it's bliss.
Profound oneness has unified with every cell of my body and my heart pumps all
the euphoria throughout my biological system, my temple of an ideal & balanced
humanity; so long as I tap-in regularly.
Initially it was very so odd to imagine such content and joy exuding from me with such
consistent energy. To think, "I am the only one feeling this" and the greatness is almost
very lonesome.
Though, I have also concluded that the elated vibes that rippled through the ones nearby,
makes this reality a beneficial one for all.
so consciously this time I balance like a surfer on his board & I approach the launch-pad like
a rocketship... with careful and conscious, decided precision...
though my heart has clearly said, "Just relax, let it be."
Categories:
launch pad, blessing, freedom, humanity, introspection,
Form: I do not know?
Under the scorching spotlight sun,
this fan stands
fearing losing sight of a star.
Behind, watchers arm
themselves with binoculars.
Our eyes lock.
Lips prepare for
salty launch pad palms
depositing
lover's rockets.
Arms rise carefully.
Wrist rotate positioning
invisible spacecrafts
parallel to the earth.
Hot breath blasts
kisses flying,
floating in orbit
untouched
by gravity before colliding.
Now, one supernova sits
in a constellation
of safe jolts
and virtual crashes
propelled by two who
force breath simultaneously
intent on observing
the resplendent disappearance
the momentary flash
of a first kiss. Pores rise
becoming Braille revealing
how a married stargazer feels
weightless once more.
Categories:
launch pad, celebrity, crush, guitar, kiss,
Form: Free verse
A beautifully perfect July sky, exploding in holiday brilliance, held its collective breath as I carefully secured my bottle rocket for lift off. At that precise moment, Ms. Filipski decided to violate my airspace and with pinpoint accuracy, I scored a direct hit from two backyards away. A certain sense of pride in this accomplishment was bound to complicated my guilt.
Father, just emerging from our back door onto my launch pad, bellowing "noooooooo"
in full stride, ran immediately to the site of impact. My relationship with Ms Filipski and the significance of the Fourth of July were, then and there, inexcusable altered forever. I have yet to see another " rocket's red glare" absent a wry smile.
03/16/2016
Categories:
launch pad, funny, holiday,
Form: Free verse
SPEEDING ROCKET
Standing huge and massive on the launch pad, so many tons of power
wait to be primed, one way ticket to the stars, waiting to be launched.
It will circle the planet and then land safely, but it wants to go so much further.
This will be the ride of our lives for not many people will do this.
Now as we launch the hot fire pushes us skyward; further we go every second,
the sky goes blue, fading to purple, then black. We can see the stars and the
curve of the earth before us as we fly into space, majestically.
We are as free now as we will ever be on our speeding rocket, spearing through
the heavens, freedom.
Categories:
launch pad, science, space, stars, technology,
Form: Free verse
Denying the change,
Your lipstick clutched tightly,
But beware my dear those empty promises may leave you broken and deranged,
An erratic arousal from images of the high and mighty,
Worshiping an ivory tower existence complete with hollow halls and launch pad balconies,
Remain wary of your left hand's desperate grasps to hold dear,
The haunting spectrum of a phantasmal queen demanding to be revered,
Her basilisk gaze locks you in place,
Hold your breath and keep your composer when she approaches,
Crawl under your bead utter every prayer flat on your face,
Do you feel her burning gaze,
Frenzied appendages grasp desperately at your heart,
Your eyes brimming with tears depicting a world through a satin haze,
I urge you to escape your prison,
Let your instinctive fear overcome rational convictions,
Gouge out your eyes sever your limbs,
Best to forget how to walk than serve as a slave to your body's whim,
Anything but appeasement death before betrayal,
Fight tooth and nail for every inch regained from your forced betrothal,
Never forget that the fabrics of your existence were wrought with flesh not reflective glass.
Categories:
launch pad, beautiful, society,
Form: Rhyme
If I could close my eyes and click my heels
and travel back in time,
I'd be at Apollo 11 Launch Pad,
on July 16 of 1969.
The original crew was only three,
but now there'll be one more.
We're headed for the moon,
where no one has been before!
Four days after launch,
we will reach our destination.
If I could only sneak off first, I thought,
it would be a great sensation!
Apollo 11 blasted off,
we left without a flaw.
I took along my camera
so I could film the things I saw!
20 July, we reach the moon.
We're excited there's no doubt.
Armstrong, when we finally land
will be the first one out.
I'm trying to think of a clever way
to beat him to the door.
If I were the first man on the moon,
I'd be famous for evermore!
But then I started thinking,
this is a dream, it isn't true.
I can't be changing history,
so there's just one thing to do!
So, I closed my eyes and clicked my heels
and traveled back to now.
Although the journey wasn't real
I enjoyed it anyhow!
Contest: "Close your eyes and click your heels"
Name: Ralph Taylor
Categories:
launch pad, fantasy, imagination,
Form: Rhyme
Biking along Lehigh drive
On an early sunny morning
Not a cloud in the azure sky
My! My! What a wonderful day!
I continued onward until
I reached the Lehigh boat-launch pad.
No longer able to resist
The allure of the calm river
I laid my bicycle against
A hillock, shed my shoes and socks
And walked to the shallow rivers edge
Stood there for a moment or two
Walked in ankle deep from shore
And became a young lad once more.
Categories:
launch pad, fantasy, nostalgia
Form: Prose Poetry
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