Long Copter Poems
Long Copter Poems. Below are the most popular long Copter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Copter poems by poem length and keyword.
Warm the blaze to a glow from whence we came,
send signs and wonder, Lord, from Bethlehem.
Since childhood, they're loyal, beloved friends,
felt stuff ain't right, their love for him transcends,
All through the night, this next part is crucial,
trace that flawed vessel and its removal.
'Tis a blessing having this headstrong doctor,
him a self-murder, brought on the copter
he's convinced our son strongly has a chance,
ahh, I found it, right here I need to lance,
controlled prime blood vessel, quick solution,
the bleeding has stopped, need for diversion
veins strangling the heart, dear God make it free,
as the blade searches ... for the life of me.
Song, Copter Over My Roof, to be sung to the tune
of 'Bridge Over Troubled Waters', Simon And Garfunkel
I see eeriness Written on your face
Those fears have gotten you down
Cast them all away
They cannot stay
Yes, you've had enough
And too few understand
There's a copter over your rooftop
It will lift you up
There's a copter over your rooftop
It will lift you up
It seems all hope is gone
And you are left to fight alone
No light at the end of your tunnel
Love is there to embrace you
Love will hold you tight
When the sun hides itself
Or shadows are all you see
There's a copter over your rooftop
It will lift you up
There's a copter over your rooftop
it will lift you up
Come on golden boy
Take to the sky
Life has not passed you by
Dry the tears from your eyes
Grey clouds are lifting
Let love fly you away
Hope is alive and well
There's a copter over your rooftop
It will lift you up
There's a copter over your rooftop
It will lift you up
100321PSCtest, Change The Record, Natasha Scragg
9P
As a tad his soul was fired as he was regaled with family lore,
Rapt, hearing of his forebear's national service in times of yore.
Following tradition, he donned the uniform as his fathers did before,
Eager to serve his nation in its uniform that he so proudly wore!
He learned that in the misty past an ancestor served at Valley Forge,
To help free the emerging nation from the bondage of King George.
A forefather served as a sergeant in the Battle of New Orleans,
Barely surviving the ordeal on rations of rancid bacon and beans!
A grandfather carried a musket in the Mexican War affair.
Another, a cavalryman in the Civil War, served with elegant flair.
In the Spanish-American fray, a relative charged up San Juan Hill.
His great-granddad led a platoon in World War One with consummate skill!
His grandad was a fighter pilot during World War Two, becoming an ace,
Later to soar as an astronaut through the vast expanses of space!
His Dad, a colonel of artillery served with conspicuous bravery,
In Korea and Viet Nam to free peoples from the yoke of slavery!
The young warrior himself served with distinction in each Gulf War,
As an expert 'copter pilot in the United States Marine Corps!
Recounting the sacrifices their fathers made to keep this nation free,
He instilled in his son the worth of service, while dandling him on his knee!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Peeling Back the Bubble Wrap
Peeling back the bubble wrap on the ancient of days,
Back to when Nixon was still presiding,
He, leading with paranoid deliberations,
Sold his yeses to the Goldbricks, and the Mustard Men;
And while he was dipping into the rubbery tides of the latex surfers,
I found your shadowy pointing breasts, shivering outside my backdoor.
You were standing in the dark, waiting for me to turn the key…
1973 was the year you taught me how to love a woman;
You, at 21 years, and me, ensconced in the stereo-lit darkness,
Of my dimly-lit bedroom on Hoover street;
You, wearing a wool skirt and that ruffled low-curving blouse,
With those tan buttons, like a half dozen corks, ready to be popped,
And you, sitting at my black upright piano,
The 1907 Schumann, made of stubborn black mahogany, and
You, with your long curved nails, femininely tapping the ivories,
Soliciting an intimate song I have since forgotten, but can still hear,
Your cylindrical tan legs pressing the piano pedals,
Like a fragile dancer made of fine glass, and
You, exploring human desire with determined pressings.
And then, into your garlanded home we strolled,
Hand in hand; And with our lips, we cleared the stoney path
Leading into the sun garden, amongst the cats and the posies,
And found astonished silhouettes behind the peephole.
Still peeling back the bubble wrap on the ancient of days,
Back to when my door was locked, and a green candle burned therein;
I saw you in the naked flickering, riding the tree of silver ascensions,
And with five pulsing fingers, I eagerly picked your finest flowers, over there,
Inside the throbbing, sun-lit bed of this poised sun garden; then,
You told me you loved me. Told me what I never wanted to hear,
“Even now, with me on top of you, in this silent grinding darkness,
I cannot bring myself to lie and say, ‘I love you.’
There is something about you I don’t want to know.
Yours is a long and complicated book I do not wish to read.
Your mind I cannot calibrate, or truly understand, so…I am sorry.
I deserve to be called an ass, deserve to be brushed off like a gnat, but
With you, my shoes never seemed to fit. My ears never seemed to hear.”
...when the copter went down, witnesses heard you scream…
“I am truly sorry.”
Suddenly there was a cold draft
It was chilly reminiscent of a wintry shower bath
Making the body freeze
With a tundra tease
It came from up there
Screaming icy air
Was it a duct?
Where the warmth got stuck?
Like a refrigerator open door
Luring a bear into making an easy score
Dressed in the appropriate hibernation muffle
Before escaping doing a planned shuffle
Closing the door
Than crossing the frigid floor
The draft did stop
And soon it got very hot
Suddenly there was a cold draft
Apparently one or two countries had a wrath
Notice came in the mail
Failure to respond meant going to jail
Reporting to camp
With a form signed by a rubber stamp
Boots on the ground
Glory and honor it did sound
As copter blades twirled
And butch haircuts curled
Things went down
Hopefully the bodies would be found
Closing the casket
Family wearing black veils to mask it
The draft did stop
And bonding financial transactions started to get hot
Suddenly there was a cold draft
Foaming an artistic craft
Not a bad deal for a first round that was picked
A social prop soothing the issue that made them ticked
Corona was its name
Perfect for the conversation game
Debating with a laugh
Communicating about the calculating national debt math
Not using any sharp words as spears
Just a nice talk over a few beers
Going down like a saintly breeze
Unlike a French wine next to cheese
Closing the tab
Before calling a cab
The draft did stop
Making the bar flies bug out cheerful not angry and hot
The passengers were strapped in tight,
Excited for their twilight flight.
To get a close-up city view,
The doors were open as they flew.
One selfie shows a beaming guy
With thumbs-up as they hit the sky,
Expecting to see New York’s sights,
So magical with all those lights.
But once the Brooklyn Bridge was passed
I’m sure all riders were aghast
To hear the pilot’s May Day call;
The copter had begun to fall.
Into the river it did crash
(There must have been a mighty splash)
And in a flash turned upside-down
In frigid water; all did drown.
Their safety harnesses had knives
To cut the straps (for saving lives)
But underwater, in the cold,
No one could get a stranglehold.
A tragic ending to report
For five whose lives were severed short.
The pilot lived but I would guess
His nightmares he will not suppress.