Long Cockpit Poems
Long Cockpit Poems. Below are the most popular long Cockpit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cockpit poems by poem length and keyword.
Cap'n & the Wench *part the third*
Says the Wench t'the Cap'n "Me thinks I'll have me a Gin!"
So says the Cap'n t'the Wench " Go right ahead Me Dear~
Fer now I'll surely Win!"
With an Evil Grin & a Twinkle in his Eye~
So's the Wench did notice & then By & By~
& did say to the Cap'n "Be mindin' Yer P's & Q's!"
"Fer Me's the Wench what Decides that which Ye Do!"
"Yer no Grinnin'Porpoise & that there's no Danged Flipper!"
"Har!" says the Cap'n ~ "I am though the Skipper!"
The Wench ran B'low to the Galley fer Sure!
The Cap'n did follow yet His Timin' was Poor!
She'd already laid 'er hands on that Bottle O'Gin~
So Mightily Fast She did give the Skipper a Spin!
Once for a Second this Pyrate did Think~
That Fer Sure He was Now on the Very Brink!
But Nay was the Word passed Along from the Deck~
Fer the Wench had decided~ "Aaaarrrrggghhhh! What the Heck!"
She sat Calmly at the Helm givin' the Great Wheel a Turn~
Fer surely She was decidin' this Ol'SeaWolf to Spurn!
When Lo & Behold the Cap'n Sauntered to the Cockpit~
And 'twas Plain to see he was a'Chompin at the Bit!
Grabs the Wench He does with Muscle & Sinew~
"I'd rather Lil'Wench Ye Stuck to the Brew!
Fer Yer Manner is Bold and Wild without Reason~
And 'tis a Great Job O'Work fer Ye to be a'Pleasin!"
Now the Wench did Ponder a Moment or Two~
Whilst the Sky sent Forth a Bolt from the Blue~
She'd wondered what it was had Caused her to Forgit~
That which She'd a'wanted fer a Tiny lil' Bit!
Up Jumped She & Bolted off to the Deck!
Just as the Cap'n was givin' her a Peck!
Now this was all 'twas needed to Bring to Mind~
That which this Wench sorely needed to Find!
Now in Ports where all Pyrates finally to a Dock come a'Side~
Ne'er does a Man or Woman really Know how was that Wild Ride~
Now the Bows & the Belly of the Ship were Finally Quiet~
The Wench had gone Below with Her Bellyachin' Pyrate!
The Moon did Rise with Splendor that very Night~
Throughout the Great Ship 'twas the Only Light!
For the Cap'n & his Wench had Decided to Tease~
And this Was the Way They each Other did Please!
The Great Ship is Seen Oft enough Sailin' Agin on the Seas....
With Always enough Gin with which that Hardy Wench to Please!
SeaWolf
Hold on just one minute more before you walk through the door; hold on just one minute more and think carefully about it before you do it. You must resist all temptation and the ego of the heart that is pushing you to break the bond and leave the people destitute on the land. It is fears that take you to this place and have you screaming at the gate, it is fear that opens the cockpit when the pilot fell sick.
See them standing in long lines waiting on the divine. Their clothes are torn and dusty and their dry cracked lips yearned for a kiss.
Their dragged face stares at the distance in front ,looking at paradise curled up at the foot of the mountain.Their body yearns for comfort as they walk slowly in groups trying to touch something’s that they have lost. Their spirit bonds together as they journey towards nothing but someone says it is a new beginning.
Life has changed quickly, and you cannot tell from whence it begins, yesterday they were living in a Manson and today they are wanders in the street.
My heart is moved with compassion when I see people fall down and die in the street the journey was too long for them and many of them had nothing to eat so dehydration sign the final decree.
I have been waiting in this place to make a final move but each time the date is set, you make up a hard luck story and push me back in the bush. You are testing my patience in the most devious ways.
The trees are standing still listening to your mountain of promises that bears no weight and have no meaning. There is just no way out of here until the entre air is clear, everybody must go back to where they belongs and you must take a drastic stand.
Patience is your patience, patience is mine; you have got to get to the airport on time, the place is crowded and village people are there, you have got to give them hope for the test of the year.
Is there a better life over there? the bears are roaming the woods and the deer’s are moving too, they are going south west in their Sunday best looking for a place to rest but destiny has no comfort over there.
Walk on the straight line until you reach the bend patience will take you to the curve and turn everything around. Walk on the parallel line and you will be mine.
The space around me gets larger everyday and the wind that sits beyond the mountain is blowing residue of hope in the air and the birds sitting on top of the tree trembles in fear.
The thistles underneath the bush waits patiently for its prey with elongated stems that stretches across the river bed, the creeping bushes surrounds the edges awaiting for midnight hour to open the door as darkness creeps upon the buoyant shore.
The space around me is infinite and when I stand in it my whole body is glued to gravity in the cockpit, with several buttons staring at me; the space become wider and the interior gets darker.
The pilot has fallen into a sudden coma and the aircraft start to wander off course but the passenger broke in and bought it back on track. I can feel the temperature rising above me and the meteorite falling from the planet above but the movement of the sun stands aloof in midair.
The earth is dining with the hidden dynasty and poking fun at the old Chinese windmill that sits on top of the hill, it has been there for many years, watching the clouds dancing with the moon, and the ships doing deep water dive.
They have a strong army that is void of reality, baked into a computer game. This is the fighting strategy for the two million military that occupy twenty percent of the global space. Computer animation streaming down your back but the bow and the arrow will cause great sorrow. I will take them down until I get the very last crown.
The space around me is enlarge, it like a submarine floating through the village at nights chasing the sharks on the other side as the water flows calmly beneath the dark.
The flickering light from the tunnel lights up the place as it circle the tunnels and chase the young lions on the run, it sets up a destination pack and seal the mouth of the tunnel after they float to the top.
There are many things around me and the small space in which I sit is surrounded with mischief but the particle of hope breaks out of the ground and engulf the entire town. In five minutes Troy was burnt to the ground spilling ashes and dust all around.
The space around me is swamped !
The bird on the hill wakes up early in the morning pulling and shaking the awning giving rise to a tempestuous heat that resides in the deep.
It is not one of those cool mornings when everything is in perfect harmony, the stock market is going up and down and the clown is running all over the town, while the distilled water that come from the head starts spilling over in the bed and I stood there waiting for the sun to rise.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still; it keeps moving from floor to floor knocking on the doors, looking for someone to join the pack. It mixes pepper with sugar and sauté honey and vinegar, while piecing together every single argument and scrubbing the dial pad with sediment brought out from the bag. The corn soup is too thick to share, you have to water it down with beer and the morning bears its punishment.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still, it flies from tree to tree increasing the temperature to a hundred degrees. It bellows out loud in the morning chastising men and women of their sins while the sniper waited for the chance to take a shot at it from a distance but the bird on the hill deciphers their tricks and hid in the cockpit.
It has a lot of feathers bundle all together and a gate leading to the shore that lies just behind the door and they waited there with great anticipation.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still, it flew in the middle of the hearing and broke up the benevolent proceedings and when it was done it gave everyone a massage cream to rub in joints and shoulder.
It flew back on top of the hill and starts flying around kicking up a dust storm all over the town, it landed in the middle of the court house stirring up a ferocious storm that sends the jury, the lawyers and judges back to the county to complete the journey.
I stood and watch it unfold in front of my face as the situation enters the final phase, horse on tracks, women in frocks and nude men crouching around the back with their hands covering their privacy and a ribbon stretch across their faces.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still it is waiting for its partner to come back from a trip.
You must not know
how I picture your lips on my bone
and if I'm not thinking at all
he'll burst through the International Concepts
70% pure, im fiend-ing for you
Can't get up from my desk because everyone will think im a Nazi, saluting proudly
the best sex around and I haven't touched you
just this wet dream
I'm trying to beat off
because that honey is the best
I bet the town next to us will know my name
You don't have time to smile when you're biting your lips
When i'm biting your lips
like a canvas brush painting
Varying stroke patterns
o's o's o's o's all over your face
You must don't know how it feels
when it is hard and ready to blow
you just melted all over it
pudding that good got me stalking your whereabouts
intercepting your dreams
and standing on stop of the roof with my jacket on in the middle of summer time
threatening to jump off if I don't get another lick
call the coroner
tastes so good
I just left a skeleton
You must not know
I"m a professional
boxer without the gloves we lost count of all the rounds
What number on you on?
I'm a master
so you could go to up bat all you want
look you are surrounded by the cockpit
wrapped around you like a bow
I bet you didn't know
Im a gift in bed
Write down the month
write down the time
you will never get this high again
sorry I had to go and do this
pounding so hard that it is
breaking your heart
now you writing how much your heart cries
You must not know
put the danger signs up
he is a heart breaker
Just when you thought it was over
the levees broke
and you flooded your panties
Operator: "Do you need FEMA ma'am"
You: "No, just called "T" instead
I'm flooding and I am drowing in my bed
I don't know what he put in me, it seems like
I can't stay dry!
How many girls do you think he hit before me?"
Operator: "You must be the victim of the call we received about a big bang sound; hold on
ma'am we are sending help now!
You: "Hurry, I'm seeing galaxies now, don't come without him"
Form:
My husband drives the highway past the old plane graveyard.
Permission to visit once a dream, now his reward.
He drools, as he studies the bounty before him, to take.
First the one that comes closest, but none he will forsake.
He smiles as he watches the sun glint off the metal shapes.
He will climb around slowly with his measuring tapes.
To see in the cockpit he would give his right arm.
But needs it instead to draw the fuselage with all it’s charm.
He grunts and he groans as he crawls upon it’s length.
He’ll count the rivets later, after he takes a drink.
Then back he’ll go to examine some more.
There’re switches and gadgets, and baubles galore.
He’s never been happier as he stares at the planes.
To disturb him now would truly be a shame.
He lithely runs between each and every plane.
And he spouts about symbols and phrases hard to explain.
He imagines them flying, as only he could.
Piloting the planes would be better than good.
Occasionally his head pops up as he does research by the ton.
He looks like a gopher as he searches hither and yon.
Finally exhausted he will pack up his gear.
Now he’ll do research on the computer to make it more clear.
He’ll know each it’s history. It’s date and it’s year.
Even whoever commanded it, plus their bombardiers.
The faces he’ll research to go with the names.
And emblems he’ll find that once adorned this old plane.
His friends from his club will go oh and then ah.
Then they’ll ask him to share with modelers, one and all.
By computer the details will spread the world before dark.
It will travel to people in every terrain, no matter how stark.
And modelers will smile as they build a new plane.
With details, and beauty, and history explained.
Now officially remembered with a new life for the old.
People now made happy will remember stories so bold.
I end my refrain with a history newly rediscovered.
An old plane’s life brought back, now on a modelers’ magazine cover.
Contest: Impress Me III
Motif: Historical. Carol Eastman and Hubby
Oxygen saturates the skies breathing fresh air in my lungs and helium resting on my shoulders beckoning the universe to come. You can see hydrogen running down the street with pressure mounting in its knees and two atoms fasten together to solve the oracle before summer.
Formula O is standing strong with oxides buried beneath the earth’s crust, the animals depend on it and human cannot live without it. The plants cannot survive if they don’t get it. Formula O is getting scarce as the heat is raging in the atmosphere, respiration has come to a standstill and the sun is burning up all the beautiful daffodils.
N2 the diatomic gas filling the atmosphere with all that it’s got. Plenty of it is found in the solar system and sometimes it makes the lights grow dim. You can find plenty of it in the Milky Way and you can find it screaming in your DNA; the RNA has it too and it saturates in energy deducted from molecule.
I can see the cycle moving in the atmosphere and the birds are running around in despair, the sun is casting shadow on the ground, you have to know which path to run.
Ammonia acid, organic nitrates and cyanides, containing nitrogen is shouting from the cockpit and nitric acid, is waiting for you at the boarding gate so get the grey hound, the Caine, German Shepherd, Border Collie, Belgian Milionis, and Labrador Retrievers at the boarding gate before it is too late.
No confusion or disruption just gets a team of unmarked security to conduct this operation and disconnect the cords discreetly.
Many compounds are erected from the ground and industrial fertilizer is all around; they pollute the water system, block your drain and are causing pain but the tranquil skies are smiling at me.
The tranquil sky is releasing good amounts of energy so absorb it before it is fades; remove the obstacle and get rid of the debacle, and when the day is done you and I will have fun, when you throw your ring in my “cap” that will be a wonderful plot.
My husband drives the highway past the old plane graveyard.
Permission to visit once a dream, now his reward.
He drools, as he studies the bounty before him to take.
First the one that comes closest, but none he will forsake.
He smiles as he watches the sun glint off the metal shapes.
He will climb around slowly with his measuring tapes.
To see in the cockpit he would give his right arm.
But needs it instead to draw the fuselage with all its charm.
He grunts and he groans as he crawls upon it’s length.
He’ll count the rivets later after he takes a drink.
Then back he’ll go to examine some more.
There’re switches and gadgets, and baubles galore.
He’s never been happier as he stares at the planes.
To disturb him now would truly be a shame.
He lithely runs between every plane.
And he spouts about symbols and phrases hard to explain.
He imagines them flying as only he could.
Piloting the planes would be better than good.
Occasionally his head pops up as he does research by the ton.
He looks like a gopher as he searches hither and yon.
Finally exhausted he packs up his gear.
Now he’ll do research on the computer to make it more clear.
He’ll know each it’s history. It’s date and it’s year.
Even whoever commanded it, plus their bombardiers.
The faces he’ll research to go with the names.
And emblems he’ll find that once adorned this old plane.
His friends from his club will go oh and then ah.
Then they’ll ask him to share with modelers one and all.
By computer the details will spread the world before dark.
It will travel to people in every terrain, no matter how stark.
And modelers will smile as they build a new plane.
With details, and beauty, and history explained.
Now officially remembered with a new life for the old.
People now made happy will remember stories so bold.
I end my refrain with a history newly rediscovered.
An old plane’s life brought back, now on a modelers’ magazine cover.
CSEastman and MAEastman
I love it when Lisa and I take our show out and, on the road,
like this twilight helicopter flight, from New Haven to LaGuardia.
I’m so excited about tonight, it’s possible that I might implode.
The rotor blades started twirling, our luggage had been stowed,
the pilot asked Lisa. “Ready for takeoff?” Lisa grinned and said, “Go!”
He gave her a quick and crisp salute and the engine noise started to grow.
As we went wheels-up, the whirly-birds warning lights began to strobe.
Yep, It’s the start of November recess and we’re changing our zip code.
We rise like a balloon, at first, until the harbor comes into view.
The engines were screaming like jets, when the whole world turned askew,
I’ve done numerous take-offs like this, but it still feels like I might spew.
Above the rear cockpit window, there’s an air-speed indicator that looks like a clock.
With a quick turn over Yale’s campus, we’re going 90 as we steak over the docks.
As we ascend into the night, the twinkling lights of New Haven seem to shrink.
We’re swiftly gaining altitude, this quivering contraption, moves faster than you’d think.
As the red numbers settle at 260, the vibrations have all but ceased,
The engine noise is gone as well, as we race up, in the darkness and out over the sea.
I try not to think of the inky black water, how far we would fall and how quickly we’d sink.
Long Island Sound glittered, like fractured glass, under the waxing crescent moon.
The forever-blue sky was hosting a large, fake-star, because Venus was glowing there too.
That dark almost-orbit was prettier than the infinity-of-lights we’ll see on Park Avenue.
We’ll be meeting Peter’s flight from Geneva - a surprise - he doesn’t have a clue.
As the lights of New York become pronounced, so does my excitement that he’ll be around.
I’m sure we’ll get a moment of quiet intimacy at the LaGuardia international arrivals lounge.
Dragon went to the mailbox this morn,
And he came excitedly flying back, yes, toward the house…
So Now, you should… be doubly, doubly, doubly forewarned.
Yep! Now, you GOTTA know… We’re in for a LOT of ensuing chaos!
Yes, He had a letter addressed to him…
With a smile on his face and a letter in his hand…
And what, you ask, had him wearing, such bubbly, bubbly, bubbly grin?
He’s going, this year, to the Fireman Competition, and held the invite so grand!
By Now, you must know, such excitement, so fine…
As usual, made his fire to run, run, run… onto the letter in hand…
And that Date, and the Time? You know, that fire? Well… never mind!
Thought this would slow Dragon? No way! He’s ready, now, for that Laurel Strand.
He flew to the Firehouse, lickety- split…
Crashing into the fire truck, giving it a broken axel and 4 tires flat, flat, flat!
Leaving his head, stuck, solidly, through the window, into the trucks cockpit…
Fortunately, out ran the fire chief, to organize the rescue, of our little dingbat…
When NOTHING ELSE would work, all the firemen…
Put their feet on the door, grabbing Dragon, and they pulled, pulled, pulled!
Finally, it took old Grandpa Troll to pull his head out, by taking the door off…
And then breaking the door apart! My! What a day, I must say, THIS had been!
Then next week’s competition was explained…
As a Charity Event to enhance and outfit their old faithful fire truck!
Now a little rescue practice will never, never, ever… it’s ascertained…
Ever be turned down! And Oh My! And Oh Well! What’s that truck worth?
That is… compared to our klutzy, little clown…
Grandpa Troll donated repairs as Dragon worked it off, day after day, after day.
My Moral is: If great you will be, then mistakes will be made along the way…
As you walk to your destiny, don’t despair; just keep going to your brighter days…
Written By Carol Eastman 5-19-2016