Long Paratroopers Poems
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It was the day I wanted the most
Yet dreaded as the worst,
Seeing the jumpmaster’s eyes
Way up there in the sky,
Waiting for the scream
“This is a paratroopers’ dream
Stand in the door—lean and mean!”
C130 paratrooper’s Jet, 1500 feet above earth
M16 Weapon by my side, ready to hit the dirt
Knees bent as a dog’s leg on the ledge
Crackling nerves on screeching edge
Cotton dried mouth like a Sahara’s wedge
Soldier before me threw up his lunch
Stomach flipping—fear gripping
Paratrooper’s static lines scraping, moving
Shinny brand new paratrooper’s boots
Shivering to a shuffling groove
Trembling to its new roots
Cold palms slippery from sweating
Camouflaged face twitching like electric shocking
Eyes like a road map dredged with red
Boots shuffling towards the elliptical edge
Heard the jumpmaster’s words
“Go, go, go—jump soldier!”
I felt like a lonely hanging leaf
Growing from the side of a cliff
Just dangling in the breeze
Like a trapeze with distance in between
The moment of truth arrived
Saw the green paratrooper’s light
Heard the Jumpmaster’s voice—“Go!”
Cannonball leap into the rushing breeze
Wings of angels—still praying all the more
One thousand…two…three…four…
Parachute opened above—“Puff!”
Then I knew from the Lord
As I descended safely below
I am still His beloved!
During the Second World War
A decision was made
If brothers were to be lost
The last would be saved
The story below
Is the truth in a way
For the search of a soldier
Before he becomes, theatre pray
The US Government declared
A mission is in plan
Sending a squad of Rangers
To save this solitary man
Capt. John H Miller
With his handful of men
Their dedication to search
For the last of them
For his brothers were lost
In the theatre of war
At Omaha and Utah
In the Pacific, so far
Into Europe they head
From cities through towns
Looking for Ryan
Before he's gunned down
He is eventually found
With Paratroopers, holding onto a key bridge
As a Panzer group advances
Will this be their last ridge
Bullets zipped, pinging
Ricocheting
The flesh of the living
In screaming sing
Their mission was, to
Save Private Ryan
But Capt. John H Miller
With others, died trying
My entry into Frank Herrera's contest
" Describe your favorite performance by Actor or Actress in a movie "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-7.php
Tom Hanks is my favourite actor, and his role as Capt, John H Miller to me
was one of his best, his hunger to complete his mission showed in his acting.
The film was based on a true story, about Fritz Niland who lost two brothers
in Normandy, and a brother M.I.A. in Burma. He was later found alive.
But the military rule about sole surviving son's being allowed out of combat is true.
It was enacted after the five Sullivan brothers were killed in 1942 when the U.S.S.
Juneau was sunk in the Pacific. The rule of the surviving son is common to many
armies, the American, the Canadian, the British and the Israeli.
To the Build-A-Bear Store
With granny in tow
Do you remember?
What was you four?
Say you remember
Only one or two
Well maybe three
Still sitting upon
Granny's knee
When we opened
The door to
The place
Why it was a
Virtual zoo
Animals wasting
To be filled
Waiting to be glued(sewn)
First you
Had to put a
Heart from
The very start
Then you
Pressed the
Button and
Filled the
Animal with
Stuffing
Then she
Sewed him
Shut
But he had
No clothes
You got
To pick them
Out from
500 different ones
You picked
A camoflauged
Paratroopers
Outfit just
For your
Beautiful
Green frog
Which you
Named
Turtle
I remember
Too
Form:
Jumbled up in the bowls of my brain
Are poetry words that do not rhyme
They take my imagination hostage
But do not let me take my time.
They are creeping out of my dendrite path
Landing fiercely on a virginal page
The white is rapidly filling up with words
From my muse, not the sage.
I can see some landing like paratroopers
And I mavel at their stealth
They are flying from my gray matter
Bringing me emotional health
For when I am in writing world
Which I do for my own sake
It is as if I am gifting myself
A reality-driven break.
Rolling out like thunder now
Words slide upon the paper
Where are they coming from I ask?
But the only thing I see is vapor.
My muse is slick sassy and smart
Mad mother me.
I would shout "Paratroopers"
if a mass exodus from the heated house
was in operation, where the heat might escape.
So my daughters would know not to loiter in the doorway.
Mad mother me.
If asked to drive into town at 5pm
I would stamp and shout about traffic cahos.
Even though we live in a small town.
Crawling in traffic was obviously not my thing.
Mad mother me.
I would rant and rave how beautiful their hair was.
Only for them to go and get it thinned out.
So they could attach those expensive hair extensions.
And they thought I was mad??
Mad mother me.
I would procure alcohol in the form of cans of beer.
For my underage drinking, prinking (pre drinking) daughters.
In the hope that in my watching them consume, they would presume
enough was enough, so no more allowed...outside.
Mad mother me.
I would bring them to the G.P.
When they asked me to help them obtain the pill,
to clear up their acne, if you will. Knowing in my heart
after a year with their partner, they were bound to start...
Mad mother me.
I hope in future they will see.
How much love my heart has poured from me.
To give them the best start in life ahead.
And to know if I could have loved them more, I would.