Long Pilot Poems
Long Pilot Poems. Below are the most popular long Pilot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pilot poems by poem length and keyword.
(note: The site restrictions don't allow long epic poems, so I have split this into 6 segments, each should run straight on from the previous one.)
THE EYE OF THE SEA
Or
The Rime of the Ancient Kubla Kahn on the Road to Mandalay
There washed ashore a devil’s whore
Who claimed he’d never been paid,
Near dead from Sin, or weatherin’
Yet feared to loose his blade.
We did our best to ease his rest,
But our experts all were vexed:
The Old Wives College exhausted their knowledge;
The doctors cursed their texts.
Wracked with pain his life had waned
His eyes were growing dim,
His final words were barely heard:
Everything looked grim.
With chicken pills we cured his chills,
For strength we gave him broth,
His brow was mopped, his temperature watched,
We swaddled him in sailcloth.
Then from afar with strengthened heart
As if ‘twere heaven’s game
His mien changed, he had regained
The pilot to his flame.
In heartened mood we gave him food,
And bade his tale be told;
And so he spoke for the price of a toke
And a butcher’s bag of gold.
“ ‘Twas in the port of Herringford,
Where all the cows lie down,
A skipper talked, he claimed he sought
A crew of great renown.
The wind was high in a sunless sky,
The waves were barreling in,
And word got round of men to be found
That night at The Mortal’s inn.
At eight o’clock the bolts were shot
And all were locked within,
With muttered words of rumours heard
And lubricant of Gin.
The Captain coughed and glanced around
For conversations shed,
With laser gaze and aged malaise,
In a darkened voice he said:
‘Into the storm at the crack of dawn
We sail on the morning tide,
Let no man here betray his fear,
His passion or his pride!’
The aim of the endeavour was legend’ry treasure,
The fabled crystal ship of the Prince,
Lost years before off the Straits of Nepal,
And famously quested for since.
Our boat, ‘The Eye,’ was a Barquentine,
Just a quarter league in length,
She sailed as sweet as a sackful of eight,
With grace and speed and strength.
Twelve good men without pretence
Agreed to the journey ahead,
But the cheery tales of places sailed
Belied their inner dread.
The crew we got were a hardy lot,
Experienced one and all,
But none were fools and caution ruled
When it came to signing aboard.
Continued on The Eye of the Sea part 2
He had do fight all odds
A man of unbreakable idealism
Alone with his ideas
A mysterious death at high sea
The truth will never be known
--------------------------------------------------
Gegen alle Widerstände
Ein Mann mit ungebrochenem Idealismus
Alleine mit seinen Ideen
Mysteriöser Tod auf hoher Sea
Die Wahrheit wird niemand erfahren
-------------------------------------------------
En lucha contra todas probabilidades
Un hombre de idealismo irrompible
Solo con sus ideas
Una muerte misteriosa en alta mar
La verdad nunca será conocida
Note: Rudolf Christian Karl Diesel, 1858-1913, was a German engineer and the inventor of
the Diesel engine. He spent his youth until 1870 in Paris and surroundings. When being
extradited after the start of the German-French-War in 1870, Diesel and his family left for
London. He as a child travelled alone to Augsburg, Germany were he lived for five years
with his uncle and went to school there. He started studies of mechanical engineering in
1875 in Munich and applied for a patent of a „New and economical power engine“ at the
Emperial Patent-Office in Berlin. From 1908 on he developed the first functional model of
his engine with the financial assistance of the Krupp company. In January 1898 the first
factory for Diesel engines was built in Augsburg, Germany. A Diesel Engine Company was
inaugurated by autumn 1900 in London. The first motor vessels with a Diesel engine were
built in 1903. Diesel was at a state of bad health due to numerous patent-lawsuits. He was
not a good businessman and lost his complete fortune. On September 29th Diesel boarded the
mail-vessel Dresden to cross the Channel for Harwich to participate in a meeting of the
„Consolidated Diesel Manufacturing Ltd.“ in London. He seemed to be in a good manner when
he was last seen on board of the ship. On October 10th 1913 the crew of a Dutch
government pilot ship saw a body drifting in the water at heavy sea. As the body was
highly decomposed, the crew only got hold of some personal belongings (a pastille box,
purse, pocket knife and a spectacle case) which were later identified as Diesel's
belongings by his son Eugen. The real cause of his death was never clarified and his
dependants never believed in suicide, but in murder to steal Diesel's ideas. So his death
is still remains a mystery.
You stand up in the great hall waiting for a brawl; you stand up in the great hall waiting for a miracle to pull you out of the ditch.
Words of wisdom buried in your head lying in swamps in the house of the dead. My knees are shaking my heart is racing and I need something sweet to pull up my energy from the deep, the price of gasoline is getting high and the unruly weather is bidding the earth goodbye, the pilot test is coming to an end and some people will have to leave the den.
Rhetoric is flying high in the town and validity is running up and down, the wind is blowing in the south and courage is walking in the West with an overall and a vest, pulling the crowd into their enticing net and those remaining in the East are sweating from the sun beast. Energy is walking about causing the Brits to run and shout.
Rhetoric is the art of persuasive language your words will tell you where you have been, you can stand on the hill and see in Marsha Green kitchen, the pot is stirring, the beef is roasting and a sweet aroma is spilling about.
She is cooking curry too and her man has gotten a bump on his salary and everyone in Marsha Green’s family is feeling very happy.
A dinner for two has turned out to be a dinner for ten, the lion is racing around the den, they are inviting additional guest to show and so the menu list is getting bigger and the space is enlarged around the public eye. Grill fish, grill chicken, and smoked ham is there to make you feel strong.
Exotic food will calm your mood but the bulla cake will give you running belly and the curry will make you walk in a hurry. I can smell it from a distance and everyone is waiting on the invitation. The rhetoric is high and you have got to ignore it while you fly around in the sky.
What are you looking at? You have got to find someone to paint over your saucy frock, you must add additional prop and polish your finger with salt and pepper. Your foul mouth and your brazen throat will give you a little idea what I am talking about.
Rhetoric is the heart of the crown and persuasive language is wearing a long gown; no matter how soft you speak it is enough to disrupt their heart beat, your culture is bubbling up in the deep.
Keep your balance, stick to your plan and you will enjoy all the fruit of the land. Rhetoric is all you have to rely on.
Mein kampf synonymous as a blooper
Writer of these words,
a former Lower Providence inhabitant,
who dwelled within darkest depths
of Dante Alighieri's inferno
for most of his outlandish, impish,
and devilish growing up years
witnessed microscopic scrimmage,
where spermatozoan with most forcefulness
muscled itself handedly,
magnificently, and splendidly
envision unicellular olympic competition,
yours truly swimmingly
begot during the heat
of parents being passionately fruitful
courtesy diploid erogenous frisson
between my then searingly
robust virile father and fecund mother
~ late March/early April 1958
ushered seminal moment
post ova fertilization realization
courtesy male gamete
penetrating zona pellucida
a glycoprotein layer surrounding the oocyte
triggering cell bait multiplication
subsequently yielding male
gendered offspring and sole son
hashtagged as uber twittering, snapchatting,
shutterflying super duper
cute little boy with short strawberry blond hair,
whose solitudinarian nature
became quite evident when he displayed
acute social withdrawal
upon off fish shill commencement
getting schooled as a grouper
by mister Hooper,
who made his debut
appearance on Sesame Street
November 10, 1969
as storied and staple long time resident
on above named television show
until March 18, 1983,
beloved by adults and children alike
within make believe community
(a conglomerate of real and imaginary locales)
peopled with proprietary named characters
for any of a number of humorously grotesque
glove or rod puppets and marionettes,
chiefly representing animals,
first popularized, idolized,
dramatized, capitalized, and actualized
by the children's television programme
Sesame Street (1969-) and more recently
in The Muppet Show (1976-80).
Also: a toy made to resemble one of these
ingenious brainchild of Jim Maury Henson
an American puppeteer, animator, actor,
and filmmaker who achieved worldwide
notability as the creator of the Muppets
which series originated as two pilot episodes
produced by Henson for ABC in 1974 and 1975.
Henson's shocking, sudden death occurred on May 16, 1990 of organ failure resulting from streptococcal toxic shock syndrome. An emotional memorial service was held five days later at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City.
Blat , Blat
Sporadic gunfire firing back
Our way of life is under attack
And what I mean by that
Is protect the Oil Refineries
Protect Democracy freedom of speech
Protect the Banks & Institutions
Call the order to Fire Back at Will
Give them a taste of their own medicine
Shoot to Kill
Kill Bill
&
Jack & Jill
Whoosh, Whoosh
Mother nature's dirt is swirling on the breeze
Red Sand
Burnt Yellow's
Orange Haze
The winds ablaze with Corparl Punishment
Doled out by the Ministry of Environment
If 1 is to believe the Kamikaze Pilot
Who just punched another hole into the earth's atmosphere
Put down your Aerosol cans
And travel bans for Airplane's
And Rocket's
Unless there Private hired in the name of
Spreading the Gospel according to
Renewable cleaner Green Energy
Ride your bike not your car
Drip , Drip
Torture Tap
Pop the Champagne Cork
Who cares if the reservoir runs dry
Let the poor drink cake
What else would the poor child have to fill up her day
If moved closer no longer was it a chore to collect water
Sell them gun's instead to play with
Sizzle, Sizzle
Bacons at an all time low
It's now even on the Big Mac
Triple Stack
For Beef is apparently now very bad 2
Lest us all become Vegetarian
Father was a Coal Miner
Out of work and down on his luck
Since progress decided to shut down the mine
Bad choice of Career
How is Daddy now going to pay for his Beer & 40 Fags
His Father before him was an Old Fashioned Cowboy
Driving Herds of Cattle across the wild plains
Powered by Bourbon and Bean's
Rancid and saddle sore
So too 1 day did progress for him come a calling
Putting an end to his self worth and way of life
And with it his family taken on his journey into Alcoholism
A violent man he became
Relics of a certain decade
Products some say Collateral damage
When the Wheel's of Industry Stop
The Silence is deafening
It's like the sound of a knife falling in an gunfight
Shhh , Shhh
Quiet Please
The Library is now in Session
And so begins the Mine for Knowledge
Speak of only Truth , Hope and Courage
Don't be taken in
Don't make the same mistakes History has taught us
What has War ever brought us but death
Fight rather for us than against us
Why be a Tourist ?
When you could be a Guide ? ?
There are only a certain amount of
the truly good things life has to offer
1 single person can expect to experience in one's lifetime given our human limitations
Like a cancer patient hearing a doctor tell them treatment was successful you are in remission
To meet your one true soulmate
what it's like to mate for life
Get married or be someone's best man
or bridesmaid
Be a husband being told he is about to become a father
or a wife she is pregnant
What it's like to breastfeed or give birth
feel a kicking on your naval
Hearing your child's first words see
them take first steps and off to school
Make your parents proud or see your
child succeed
To save a life or donate an organ
Winning the most prestigious award
voted for by said peers at a grand awards ceremony
Win a life changing amount of money
Discover or find a treasure map
Travel and see the 7 wonders of the world
all it's continent's and oceans and differing people
animals included
A thunderstorm expelling lighting and
the majesty of a sky full of star's under
a desert sky and a perfect sunset
The feeling a girl feels when she is bought flowers or receives a valentine's card for the first time
What's it's like to own the keys to your own home
To never have to go to a loved one's funeral
Pilot an aeroplane or jet fighter
Drive a steam train or locomotive
Captain or steer a ship
Command a tank
Be a cowboy
What it's like to paint a work of art
or play a music instrument
Sing in front of a live audience
Make people laught doing stand up comedy
Play sport in front of a sold out stadium
What it's like to find the word's in order
to compose the perfect poem
Or most prized of them all the meaning of life
What it must be like to be or live
CONTENT & HAPPY IN ONE'S OWN SKIN
The rest we have to leave up to our
own imagination or hopefully dream about
before we eventually pass on
Because when it's gone it's gone
you only live once no such thing
as second chances or do overs
Only memories to keep you company
until your numbers called and the lights
dim and you get to find out
If death is in fact the termination or end point
of your journey or the fresh new start and
beginning the good things in life never provided you
Somewhere over Europe
A B-17 flies
Strafed and damaged
In her enemies skies
The flak has taken
Its toll on the plane
This crew so brave
In this theatre of war campaign
Many hours have passed
With no sight of the channel
Only land ahead
Is it our instrument panel
A shout is heard from the rear of the plane
A Messerschmitt ME-109, beside us flies
We are sitting targets for another kill
The pilot turns his head, as i look into his eyes
He is making a gesture
For us to turn 180 degrees
Do we believe our enemy
But we eventually agree
He continues to fly
Like an escort of question
Were we right to agree
His degree of suggestion
For up ahead we see
The glint of blue water
Our horizon of hope
Are we saved from slaughter
Moments later
As i turn my head again
A wave from the German
As he banks his fighter plane
We are now well over the channel
As we sight the white cliffs of Dover
Our B-17 in struggle
This mission near over
On the runway at Kimbolton
The fire crews stand ready
Will our plane take the landing
Is our undercarriage steady
Touch down we make
As we talk of our flight back
About the German fighter pilot
Who refused to attack
It is now many years later
For we were lucky, we grew old
As we assembled on anniversary
Our story could now be told
For he had kept it his secret
But now we have to say
Franz Stigler and his German fighter
Is why we are before you today
He was scrambled to intercept
The enemy that we were then
When he arrived we awaited
The fate of us men
When he viewed our plane
He couldn't believe his eyes
Why something so shot up
Still flew in his skies
When he returned to base
In his reports he states
It went down over the sea
And sealed our fate
After all these years
I am so happy we have met
We have lived many years
While our lost colleagues have slept
I thank you Sir
For sparing the lives of my crew
As we stand together for peace
We salute you
This is a true story from WWII, written by request for Sara Kendrick,
who loves to challenge me, and i thank Sara kindly for the opportunity
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-6.php
Natural soporific narcotic
Recurrent suicidal thoughts
vaingloriously wend along winding road
within windmills of my mind
(o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
yakking, yanking, and yawking zeal
becalming this crash test dummy rolling
stone temple pilot inxs
of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging
slow as adam and the ants,
thru fifty shades of gray's
anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),
beatles browed, beastie boy,
foo fighters kickstart new edition
quickening reo speedwagon treadwheel
outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
mailer daemons inhabit
cavernous fist size vastness steel
via herbie hancock (hermans hermits)
cheesy munster trap doors that steal,
deep purple swiftly tailored
culture club members squeal
hosted by megadeth
pack rat boston for real
venue at tokyo hotel,
via en grave invitation
signed by alice in chains poison huss kiss
sing, which will spellbind
once contents unveiled,
an instant jane's addiction peal
immediately choking off air supply
then alice cooper egging bad company
to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal
supplanting raw
primal scream from spinal tap
acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
creedence clearwater revival
dark shadows would demand one
(to take a knee) and kneel
before sacrificing oneself
at the beck and call
of evanescent nirvana
experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
off phish hull heart shaped coffin
ample room enough for blind
melon collie 10,000 maniacs,
their healing powers profusely emanating
via m&m shaped talking heads
methinks averring obeisance
to judas priest and hooters
with metallica linkedin with mötley crüe
coldplay feeling of eternal sleep,
where quiet pussy riot
joins carpenters, whose underground
bunker with golden arches
resembles empyreal
heavenly vault wreathed soundgarden
with electric light orchestra
sepulchral crowded house indicative
cynthesis iz done on a green day,
whereat dizzy gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme,
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
(absent myself - a skeptic),
whose karma credit Suisse
with long deceased meatloaf
with soul asylum and heart to anele!
While looking for Elvis
Met Nessie in Loch Ness
Hoarding a leprechauns pot of gold
While getting ready to depart
I tripped over the Lost Ark
In the baggage of a hitchhiking Pharaoh
Thought I had got lost in flight
Stumble into Camelot at night
King Arthur shooting Robin Hood's arrows
Little green men from Mars
Battling a dragon with bumper cars
Jumping on my unicorn I rode
Diving into the Ocean
The mermaids gave me notions
My search for Elvis was getting cold
Swam down to Atlantis in the Atlantic
Dine at Poseidon's banquet
He had a big Roman nose
Cruising the Devil's Triangle
Being careful for any angle
I try to assassinate Castro
No money for the Florida toll booth
I wander into the Flountain of Youth
I look much younger so I'm told
On my way to Colorado
I kiss the Indian Princess of El Dorado
They can keep their entire treasure load
I saw Jimmy Hoffa eating a hot dog
While sitting with Big Foot on a redwood log
They were both getting pretty old
Went over to Memphis
Back through Las Vegas
My search for Elvis was about to fold
Than an angel named Gabriel
Told me about the new guy down at the stable
So I flew off to Shangri-la with pilot Joe
Our wings iced without warning
Damn this damn Global warming
Flying over Santa and a Chinese Viking Eskimo
We crashed landed in Xanadu
Met a few people we both knew
But Elvis left so I was told
With my new friend Yeti
We shared a big bowl of spaghetti
Amelia Earhart cooked and sold
Round the Garden of Eden
I traded an apple for freedom
From the lost tribes of Isreal though
On Mount Olympus I heard singing
The voice of Elvis reigning
I found the King of Rock and Roll
We ate a fried banana peanut butter sandwich
Elvis offer me the last bite of his sandwich
I politely refused I couldn't be so bold
Before I could ask Elvis as such
He rose and said "Thank you very much"
The answers I needed were put on hold
"Beam me up Scottie" he quipped
Than in a flash he was on the Mother Ship
And I turn and saw my friend little Moe
Area 51 is where that saucer came from
In Noah's Ark we drank wine and hard rum
Finding Elvis I am no hero
Looking for Elvis is half the fun
Its the trip that ends where it begun
Down in Dallas on a grassy knoll
PASSIONS
On the deck of his life’s boat
In a state of confusion
Was he sitting
Gazing at the horizon of
The unknown
Dark clouds of doubt were hovering
In his puzzling mind
His thoughts in disarray were venturing into a labyrinth
Of faint speculations
The dilemma was his, knowing not where to go
The roads of virtue and that of vice before him
They stood:
Equally appealing
Equally accessible
Equally demanding!
He tried to pierce the veil of life’s mystery
With his wondrous, enquiring eyes but
Every effort is a sound failure:
The riddle persists
The obscurity endures
The enigma remains.
Impatience enters now his troubled psyche and
Horrid panic becomes his constant companion.
Suddenly, his choleric aimless, and violent passions
Snatched the rudder of his life’s boat in their needy:
For control
Hungry for rule and
Thirsty for power
Arrogant, reckless hands and
In their eagerness to rule over his
Disorientated mind, enslaved
Reason: The illuminated helmsman
Hand-cuffed love: The tender-hearted captain and
Tortured understanding: The knowledgeable pilot and
Threw overboard benign compassion and
Holly mercy.
Shortly after, the humane crew of lofty virtues,
Subjugated to the newly established tyranny was:
Ruthlessly deprived of its power
Violently derailed from its course and
Brutally twisted in its meaning,
To fit passions’ newly adapted schemes,
Of infamy
Of turmoil
Of inconsideration and
Of shameful vice.
Then, as the sails of vanity and blind temptations
Opened wide and
The craven wind of uncontrollable urges rushed to
Swell them with corrupt impetuous desires,
His shaky boat unguided drifted to the open rough sea
Of self-destructive indulgence,
Through the hurricane of obscure ignorance,
Towards the perilous sterile rocks of despicable lust
Where it crashed and sank into the abyss of filthy appetites,
In the graveyard of lawless souls at which
Murky desperation eternally reigns!
Ah, if only he had chosen the path of virtue!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
18 January 2013