Long Bomber Poems
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This has been a weapon of war so tried and true.
It is the “Stratofortress” Boeing B-52.
The bomber has been flying longer than most of us have been alive.
It has been employed by the US Air Force since 1955.
With a payload of up to 70,000 pounds,
the plane carries a powerful punch that abounds.
Cruise missiles can be launched from its wings.
This Boeing aircraft can do amazing things.
The BUFF performs its duties rather economically.
This accounts for the plane’s amazing longevity.
This subsonic strategic bomber can fly a long way.
That’s one of many reasons why it is still used today.
(BUFF stands for “Big Ugly Fat CENSORED”)
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for valuable
information I obtained to write this poem.
I didn’t want to join as a pilot, and could wait till next Monday,
To become a rear gunner, but I choose to be a wireless operator,
By waiting another three months. There were 30 men in array,
And we trained at Bridgnorth and Yatesbury to fly on a bomber.
I’d joined with Keith, and we were selected to fly on Lancasters,
And because we’d done well in the theory exams, we were chosen,
For radio jamming the Luftwaffe’s signals on equipment of ours,
Called ABC, and we listened into Nazi transmitters, the conversation.
We chose our pilots, but the Adjutant made us into Pilot Officers:
We wanted more training, because at stake was our life and death,
And, indeed, we went through many pilots, and some had blinkers,
Especially the Canadians, unaware of Europe’s mountains and breadth.
We flew raids on the Ruhr from base to Reading to Beachy Head,
To Le Treport, then across France and into Germany the target;
Once Keith’s plane did not return, and i wrote to his mum, not dead,
Just missing in a POW camp, to Florence that was my true bet.
On the 50th anniversary my wife and i travelled to Calais to see,
My friend’s grave, which was in Cambrai, found a UK gardner there,
Who directed us to the German cemetery where Kieth was to be,
One of 40 graves that lay serene and peacefully with no palaver.
His body was still in uniform and on the headstone it carefully said,
“Proud and treasured memories,” must’ve been Florence’s words,
But I was strangely upset because on the stone “Pilot” was read,
Why should it say that when he was a wireless operator, i had words?
lesson one
i wake up alone
for the first time
the silence is deafening
i want to get up
but every fiber in me
is dead weight
i want to call my mother
and ask her how a widow
gets out of bed in the morning
but i won’t do that to her
i will figure it out
i remember how yesterday
i had to run an errand
and the cool breeze
was a reassuring sensation
against my cheek
it felt much like a caress
so i coax myself to get up
and step out onto my balcony
but my body wants nothing to do with it
and won’t move
finally somehow i am up
yearning for that morning caress
i bundle up
to face the november chill
and there it is
around the corner
a sunkiss meets me
my first of many rendezvous
see you tomorrow sweetheart
i love you
you’re beautiful
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~TODAY I LEARN TO BE A WIDOW~ 2020
Read on air by invitation ~ November 25, 2020 'LATE NIGHT WITH THE MIDNIGHT BOMBER'
AP: 2nd place 2026, 2nd place 2025, 2nd place 2025, 2nd place 2020, 3rd place 2026, 3rd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2025, Front Page Pick 2021
Submitted on January 6, 2021 for contest BATTLE OF MOST ACCLAIMED 2020 POEMS sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 3RD
The weary soldier returned from another perilous patrol,
To continue the battle in his cold, damp and muddy hole.
Hopes for a hot meal and a cup of coffee were mighty slim.
'Twas just another day at the office for him!
The bomber crew had flown for hours protecting our skies,
Feeling the stress but ever alert with their eagles' eyes.
In a day or so they would do it all over again.
'Twas just another day at the office for those gallant men!
The Captain of the Coast Guard boat cruised along the coast,
Responsible for her valiant crew - seldom leaving her post.
Ever on the alert for any emergencies that might occur.
'Twas just another day at the office for her!
Twenty-four hours on duty are normal for the brave marines,
And for the fearless sailors aboard confining submarines.
They won't be home tonight but will continue their roles.
'Tis just another day at the office for those courageous souls!
These dedicated patriots place national destiny above their own,
To ensure that our precious liberties will ne'er be overthrown.
They bear loneliness, fear, stress and frightful strife.
'Tis just another day at the office in their precarious life!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The nearer peace,more savage are the acts
Abhorrent to the atheist in us all.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks
As we whites did evil to the black
With little difference, hate for glory calls.
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
All of us can disremember facts
Israeli hands have gripped and then appalled.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks
As ,with Bomber Harris, Dresden packed
Burned like grass the refugees to ghouls
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
We deny the healing we have lacked
For Jesus' Jews we let be killed ,de-souled
History, undigested ,splits and sticks
Palestine’s own Arabs are ill ruled
And in return, explode like stubborn mules
The nearer love, the more the hatred whacks
History., inconceivable, directs
Job Description Board of the Middle East
The Sniper - not Palestinian
The Bomber - not Palestinian
The Thief - not Palestinian
The Terrorist - not Palestinian
The Child Killer - not Palestinian
The Burner of Tents - not Palestinian
The Group that blows up Hospitals - not Palestinian
The Rapist - not Palestinian
The Blocker of Humanitarian Aid - not Palestinian
The Exploding Pager Man - not Palestinian
Plant Bombs in Toys Job - not Palestinian
Booby Trap food on the starving - not Palestinian
Deprive Water to the Starving Job - not Palestinian
Genocide Promoter - not Palestinian
Financier of Genocide - not Palestinian
Propagandist for defending burning Babies - not Palestinian
Killer of Journalists - not Palestinian
Using Ambulances to murder civilians - not Palestinian
However all these positions are open
apply in Israel
they need more persons with zero morals
death is their only currency
HOW THE BITTER VICIOUS GARGANO CRIME FAMILY BEGAN HACKING INTO MY POETRY HERE ON THIS SIGHT SUMMITING MY POEM THE BLOOD MONEY THE MAD BOMBER GARGANO CRIME FAMILY MILWAUKEE CRIME BOSS FEAR ENVY DENIAL FED CORRUPT JHORE JOHNSON SUNSPENDED FOR ABUSE OF POWER DECIDED TO CONTINUE ATTEMPTING TO CHANGE THE TITLE OF MY WORK IN PDF SCRBED I AM BLESS I WAS ACTUALLY ABLE TO STOP HER MADNESS GOD BLESS AMERICA NO FEAR OF THE GARGANO CRIME FAMILY OF MURDER MAYHEIM IDENITY FRAUD WRATH AND COPYWRITE VIOLATIONS ON SCRBED PLATFORM COMPLETE INTIMIDATION FEAR ENVY DENIAL GARGANO ATTACK ONG MY WRITINGS SINCE THEY SENT ASSASINS TO END MY LIFE 8-14-2003 THE SHEER OBSESSION TO MY WRITING ABOUT ORGANIZED CRIME IN AMERICA MY EXPERIENCES OF WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI THE TRAUMA OF SUVIVING THESE TRAUMATIC EVENTS THE EMOTIONAL MENTAL CRUEL TO HAVE THESE VICIOUS WISEGUYS BULLY ME FOR WRITING A MENTAL HEALTH JOURNAL GARGANO AND HIS JHORE HIDING BEHIND BLACKFACE USING A SIX GRADE STUDENT SUSPENEDEVERYDAY IS TRULY SAD NO CHILD SHOULD BE WRITING AN ESSAY ABOUT THE CORRUENT EVENTS OF MAFIA MURDERS THAT HAS TO BE THE MOST CRUELIEST YET PERSONS OF POWER JHORE FATAL ATTRACTION TO MY MENTAL POETRY MY MENTAL HEALTH JOURNAL STOP BULLYING ME I AM MRS YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN I AM AMERICAN
Chilling beauty
fractures my bones and sets my heart thrumming
feels like an earthquake in this body of mine
as breath
explodes hot from my throat
and my lips
dry as dust
murmur unintelligable words that fragment themselves like shards of glass
this chilling beauty
is unlike anything I have ever seen
it's visual depths plunge into the soul of my spirit
and I am held
struck like a stone figure immobilized yet strangely accounted for
by this chilling beauty
that crosses my path with an air of indifference-
Chilling beauty
alluring and yet intimidating to the landscape of my most regular paths
moving forward in grace
and packing all of the whallop of a stealth bomber
pretty baby
undoing all the doing that is me
chilling beauty
you make me feel so hot.
There were many unsavory jobs during the Second World War.
Some required guys to hunker down just a wee bit more!
None more so than "Tail-end Charlie" in the back of that old queen,
Known affectionately as the Flying Fortress, the B-Seven-teen!
Usually the smallest member of the ten-man bomber crew,
He was probably the most vulnerable target that ever flew!
Isolated in the tail end, genuflecting on his knees;
An appropriate position, imploring God with his fervent pleas!
Awakened from his reverie to face a day in the terror-filled sky,
Today's mission over the fatherland, nearly six miles high!
A Messerschmitt slides in to attack directly out of the sun;
"Charlie" sends him to eternity with a short burst from his gun!
Flak and shell around him would whistle, zing and hiss.
In his training days he was told there'd be thrilling days like this!
Nearly freezing, tho' he wore a bulky heated flying suit,
Ever alert, watching his six-o'clock for that enemy pursuit!
Jaunty but brave, this warrior winging thro' God's celestial dome,
Praying that he can fly his twenty-five missions and get safely home.
A grateful nation bestowing awards for laurels won upon his breast,
Home to his beloved America for a well-deserved rest!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Several threats poured in my
mind was dizzy I knew killers
were trying to end my life
since the failed attempts
several shootings car bombing
my mind focused on my
wearing wires pregnant buying
weapons and drugs from junk
sick cops for the fbi now the
corrupt officers niece was
impersonating me catrina bell
donaladson mckissick car
bomber violent offender
known for sending dirty bombs
and explosives including Sar
a serial una bomber dirty bomber
of sorts I worked with the fbi
searching for m.o.m.m.y dirty
bomber Mr Melvin MAYES El rulkin
from Chicago trading weapons
dirty bombs with LIBYA to blow
up chicago trains transit system
and government building Trina bell
bombing it this personal bomber
placing devices in foreign cars
or packages mailed to her targets
her favorite tampering with medication
quietly killing the target altering
passports assisting drug smugglers
leaving the country after killing
sprees sending strange packages
to explode several decoys are
usually sent wrapped in tape
with several envelopes attached
these are used threaten blackmail
targets as the entire community is
baffled when the mix up occurs and
boom powder covers the face hands
fingers lost limbs flesh splatters
while the bombers watch from a
distance usually parked sometimes
just sitting in a Cafe detonator released
cries from a distant targets are
sometimes randomly or targets are
in hiding domestic violence victims fbi
informants in witness protection selected
by yellow pages or library cards
prescriptions at CVS Walgreens
seniors by aarp or consumer cellular
these junk mails are randomly sent
out confusing postal workers who
just put junk mail magazines in anybody
box identity fraud you have a community
in an uproar with lost missing
prescriptions in the wrong hands
or thrown out in the trash with the
junk pile while bombs ignite beware
of bombs powdered covered packages
indeed Sars more chemicals delivered
for making more and more dirty bombs