Long Airplanes Poems
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The Night Before New Year's Eve
By Franklin Price
12/30 2015
The Night before New Year's eve is here
The same time for Christmas, a week ago did appear
Time stops for no one does not march in place
As we head for the end it's an annual race
Father time with his scythe cuts the hours of wheat
Baby New Year is coming it's a yearly repeat
Been this way for decades and centuries too
The same for Methuselah as for me and you
Don't think we will make it as long as he did
When he was a hundred he was still just a kid
Just think what he saw in plus centuries nine
Was not nearly as much as what I've seen in mine
The big war had ended .It was in the same a year.
The month of Thanksgiving is when I did appear
No TV's to speak of, no computers at home.
No jet airplanes to fly on, if we wanted to roam
No wireless phones, then were rotary dialed
For our grand kids to use them, would drive them quite wild
All the cameras had film and the pictures we took
Were developed and kept in memory book
Invited friends over our pictures to see
To talk about things; visit us personally
Passed albums around and the pictures were fine
Finished the evening with dinner and wine
Times now have changed, phone and camera are one
No dials and no film, at times increases our fun
Snap a pic anywhere. transmit right to a friend
Don't have to invite them, or on a visit depend
No albums to look at with our social set
They're in our computers to post on the net
Pretty sure it's not better than when back in the day
We invited friends over to look, eat and play
As the New Year commences here's what you should do
This New Year's resolution I offer for you
“I will invite my friends over to talk and to dine
With no phone in my hand just a nice glass wine”
In the silences of twilight, I merge with the colors of a tempestuous dream,
Spirits whistling through galaxies of shattered darkness,
I speak with the passion of falling stars, a symphony of souls,
In a cascade of golden whispers, in the heart of the crimson night.
I have been the guide of shadows, the medium for lost hearts,
Trying to gather the essence of stars fallen on the shores of time,
Between duets of moon rays and peach blossoms at full sunset,
I gathered forgotten dreams, ravaged by blue waves.
Every evening, leaving the jade roses to keep watch,
I embraced the artists of the night, those who paint scarlet skies,
In a secret tale, where Mars dances every two years,
Under the plum sky, torn by transparent passion, like an endless longing.
In the quiet of enchanted houses, I felt secret vibrations,
People called by purple sunsets, transformed into nights of silence,
In a corner of golden-rust, the family reunited in secret carols,
Our destinies intersected, like playful rays of the sun.
Through the orchard of golden flowers, I colored my canvases with dreams,
Each brushstroke, a frenzy of sweet shades,
Until I fell asleep in the arms of shadows, captured by a black-and-white slumber,
And from that sleep, the colors returned, like an unwavering promise.
Slowly, houses with tumultuous lives emerged, and cars with butterfly wings,
Airplanes like fragrant moments, arriving at their destination,
Just as my prediction, like a true psychic, had announced,
For nature washes its cheeks in humble green, sparkling with unbounded joy.
Like a sleepy summer dreamer, I dreamed of endless beauties,
So grateful for this world full of colors,
Which time has sifted with golden majesty,
I transformed into quicksilver, in love with the glittering spectrum of life.
At the end
of the river's exhausted reach
where swamp firmed
into solid ground, there was a place
the locals used as a tip.
Broken, worn out stuff
from clean outs, hoarded
household effects finally let go,
garage junk
and the discarded leftovers
from deceased estates
were dumped there.
The place was a goldmine for boys
on the hunt for soapbox wheels
and parts or anything
that could be used to build
wonders blueprinted
on raging minds. Pipes bent
into chopper handlebars
to lend lift to a boring bike, fit outs
for tree houses, defenses for forts,
the frames for boats and airplanes
that were born in hope
but would never float or fly
beyond a backyard.
The thrill was in the making.
When the council closed the tip
and moved it miles away,
it was as if a vital organ
in the neighborhood soul had been
taken out. Boys were deprived
of the lifeblood and source
of their making. For some time,
groups would ride their bikes there
and pause before an empty space
and stare. They had no words
for their grief. Slowly, the hole
healed over though something
inside had been lost. The bounty
that was once provided by the tip
was replaced by shiny things
bought brand new from shops.
This soothing breeze cools off my overheated skin,
this summer has been such a sweltering season;
Lassie laying under the dogwood tree is dozing off,
running after cats and squirrels was really tough.
The sun's radiance gives the steaming grass
a more brilliant green never seen in days;
a hazy sky is awaiting rain as clouds gather,
tulips without droplets would be much happier.
The fallen tree with broken and drooping branches
won't fight any more hurricanes and storms;
its sun-scorched leaves are quickly turning yellow
and will wilt soon even before the twilight's glow.
The only house in this desolate land growing with awesome chicories
is away from the city's noises and kids' annoying screams;
no roaring airplanes can disturb this tranquil landscape,
they can't be seen by me who's estranged and not eager to escape.
Paper planes and paper boats linger ever in my memory
As reminders of my joyful childhood days
My dreams and fancy used to soar high along with the planes
On seeing them first, how my curiosity happened to blaze
With much interest I watched them being made from paper
My elder siblings cut sheets of paper in square and folded them intact
In no time, planes were made with wings and pointed beaks
And they verily resembled the cute little sparrows in flight
Back from school, on sunny evenings, they would go out.
Though they tried their level best to make them fly,
Soon after 'take off', some would awkwardly crash land
Tottering and diving down, never rising into the expanse of the sky
As I watched them play outside in great excitement
I wished to join them and share their animated joy
But never was I allowed to go out, still seen as a 'babe'
Confined to home, I was content playing with my toy
As I grew up and started school, made paper planes myself
With friends, I enjoyed flying them into the sky
We frolicked with passing wind and flowing river
There was always something to keep our spirits high
Years have elapsed with the speed of supersonic planes
And as time pulled the blind on my carefree childhood
Those paper planes continue to remain as emblematic totems
Taking me to the sunlit alleys of bliss as I grapple with adulthood
August- 30.2022
Paper Airplanes Poetry Contest
Sponsor- John Lawless
It's just another day at the office for the dedicated Air Force crew.
They've had their briefing and now climb aboard the venerable B-52.
They complete their checklists as they've done so many times before.
The pilot throttles up to military power and down the runway they roar!
The tired old bird flexes her wings as she climbs into the morning sky.
This matron of the blue is more than fifty years old, yet she is still quite spry!
She resembles America's noble symbol, the majestic eagle, as on high she soars!
Maintaining peace is her profession, though she's suffered the scar of wars!
Today's mission will take the crew to places they only dreamed of in school.
Their arduous flight will last around twelve hours as a general rule.
'Tis ironic, they muse, that on this very plane that if the facts were known,
Could be one that some of their grandfathers and fathers may have flown!
Young men who when boys built model airplanes and dreamed of flight,
Are now masters of machines never dreamed of by the Brothers Wright!
"Service Above Self" is their battle cry - guardians of the freedoms we cherish,
So much to each we owe for ensuring that from our land they will never perish!
KC-135 Tankers met them along the route to sate the old raptor's thirst.
Now, they lower the flaps as the setting sun greets them with a glorious burst!
The smoking tires kiss the welcoming earth - the old warrior has done her duty.
Home to roost - drooping wings will flex again at dawn, to reveal a thing of beauty!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Everybody says
money is the root of all evil
yet we tried a system of trading
swapping your products, service
for the goods and food you require
imagine the effort required
to make enough trades
to supply your needs for a week
money was created
as an evolution of progress
money in itself is not evil
greed and abuse is evil
Money is just a tool
the lifeblood of society
taking our products
from one person to another
In the human body
every cell receives
the required amount
of blood to survive
yet human society
fails to share
the required resources
of the planet
every cell every human
requires the money
that allows people to survive and thrive
in our progressive world
we all demand our own culture
our own nation
our own country
but we are all human beings
apart of one planet
one world
one human race
granted we all have different ideas
different dreams
we all fight for our children to survive
we all want to enjoy life
we all have our own conflicting needs
but surely between the conflicting needs
we can find a compromise
work towards the dream of peace and equality
to continue down the path of war
Is to create our own destruction
if we release every nuclear bomb
the gas clouds surrounding the earth
would destroy crops nuclear poisoning
putting every surviving human through hell
with today's ability to design automatic weapons
the technology we possess could carry on killing
long after we were all gone
The first world war was created By Gravillo Princip
but the German Kaiser Wilhelm ll
also wanted to build an empire
England was fighting with Ireland
with Germany supplying weapons to Ireland
Russia was not prepared for war
weapons and infrastructure
far inferior to a prepared German Army
The Kaiser believed he could win
instead, he lost his country
Hitler Thought he could win Instead he lost
England went into debt
World war two technology-wise
we went for propeller airplanes
into the creation of jet engines and rockets
weapons of mass destruction and atomic bombs
What would we design with a third world war
automatic weapons artificial intelligence
the science fiction of comic books
could become the reality of our death
think well before we jump into the abyss of stupidity
The yonder blue hills from the hazy horizon
cascaded gently down the alluring landscape,
carving the contours of the charming hamlet,
where my endearing home was once cradled.
The pristine panorama of clouds sliding silently
across the curved canvas of the cerulean sky,
where my childhood joy soared to great height
with the colorful paper airplanes I loved to fly.
The wide-winged paper airplanes soared high
in uncharted winding flight with birds in the sky.
As they nose-dived to land in a faraway field,
I jumped in delight with the arms thrown up.
On these I deemed I flew to distant dreamland
with exploring mind filled with teenage fantasy.
The planes disappeared with the tide of time,
but in lonely hours they fly the childhood to me.
On some sunny days in scented air of spring,
I still fly paper airplanes in the blue sky bright,
and before the sun sets at the end of my time,
I try to reach the dreamland I am yet to find.
I marvel at my residual aviation skill not lost,
and wish I could fly my life on paper airplanes,
as I did with my imagination in my childhood,
never letting the child hidden within leave me.
________________
August 19, 2022
Contest : Paper Airplanes
Sponsored by : John Lawless
~9/ll: A Day Of Infamy~
(Chain Poem Style)
September eleventh is a day
Day of infamy that I'll never forget
Forget what with my horrified eyes I watched
Watched coming from my TV screen and that re-played
Re-played showing airplanes flying and hitting straight
Straight into the Pentagon and the Twin Tower buildings
Buildings all around just started to sway and fall
Fall and bringing around so much destruction and death
Death took so many by surprise
Surprise and horror was shown on all faces as we witnessed
Witnessed and faced before us all this horrible tragedy
Tragedy that filled our hearts and souls with unbearable sorrow and pain
Pain as we saw all this unfolding before our very eyes as we cried
Cried with much grief as we watched in horror all this happening
Happening back then and no one able to stop it that fateful day
Day of so much destruction horror sadness and sorrow
Sorrow and loss that took place that September eleventh day
Day in which we saw innumerable heroic acts of love faith and courage
Courage of spirit hope and love for many who faced death
Death and destruction on this very black and unforgettable
Unforgettable day September 11, 2001.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2009
September.11.2016
We fondly strolled through languid ways
And rambled on without goodbyes;
On cool and moonlit autumn days
That held a glimpse of paradise .
Bewitched by evening's lucent beams
He told me I was ever fair--
That mirrors all our lifetime dreams
While tucking ribbons in my hair.
Time lit love's candle in my heart,
Although I vaguely heard his sighs
Enkindling flames that we won't part;
Retracing oceans in my eyes :
Yet journeys he had known, afar
Unsure of betrothed vows, our plan:
This oath circling on his lone star
But wait I must, dear pilot man.
.....................................
Premiere I - Open: Rob Carmack's Contest
Resubmitted 12/26/ 2016
Inspired by the Line 'Vapor Trail Dreams, From Paper Airplanes'
Title Of Poem Shortened--- Pic included