Long Squadron Poems
Long Squadron Poems. Below are the most popular long Squadron by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squadron poems by poem length and keyword.
Squadron assembled
Trojans and droids
Three sisters their target
Null to void
Atmosphere entered
Red to grey glow
As we near earths terrain
Red rivers flow
Cities on fire
Civilisation of pyres
No daylight sensed
Extinguished, by these darkened pariah's
The droids report back
These sisters three
In New York spotted
Near the Statue of Liberty
The decision is made
To take them out
To salvage the earth
Return to the devout
Kestrel fighters
With missiles primed
Head to the target
Mission define
On contact of hit
The heads explode
Filled with the souls
Of past earths abode
It has to take
The souls of the free
To rid these pariahs
For all eternity
In formation swoop
Waves of three
Triangular pincer
Missiles release
The first to fall
Kristy Krull
Two direct hits
This devout cull
Ale-era the Apocalypse
From the freedom torch falls
All three strike home
Liberty Island calls
Illyanna
The darkened leader
Whom the sisters follow
Pariah feeder
In Central Park
Her power failing
Kestrels strike
The darkened flailing
The last entity
In blackened spew
Illyanna
Downed by the souls so true
It took many many years
For the deathly red to fade
For the earth to return
To it's previous glade
From the Jungles of Jupiter
A cry was heard
Mother earth is dying
Devout is our word
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy4.php
Andy, pass the cigs
I said with nervous laughter
First he tossed the pack
Then tossed the matches after
My hands were shaking so
I couldn't get a light
But it was time to go
On our early morning flight
Captain Fate, the legend
Just standing debonair
Andy puffed his cigarette
As if he didn't care
When the ground crew, gave the signal
That our planes were fit and ready
We all walked to our cockpits
Some sure and proud and ready
Others like myself
Dragged our feet and moved real slow
Like a child that tries to walk
Hip deep in frozen snow.
The smell of fuel and oil
Filled the warming twilight air
And a feeling came upon me
Like I wasn't even there
I felt like I was watching
Myself climb to my seat
Until a voice, drew me back
It was my old buddy, Pete
He was standing on the ground
Reaching up, to shake my hand
Then he ran to his plane
Through the smoke and blowing sand
The engines roared so fiercely
As they taxied in a line
Then turning in the wind
And waiting for the sign
There we stood that day
Like time and time before
Determine in out hearts
To win this Poet's War
Andy, Pete, Fate and me
Formed the Ninety Ninth Quatrain
Of the Hundred and Thirty Second
Poetry rhyming squadron
To Be continued
Brave men brought together
To fly the bombers
To hamper the power
Enlistment their will
To serve the free
All humble men
As history will see
Hearts shaking
On this white knuckle ride
Hero's them all
Side by side
Outbound flights
Planes lost
Their families and friends
Count the cost
Target reached
Heavy flak
How many of them
Will make it back
They turn for home
Chased by the Hun
Machine guns ripping
Flesh so young
Wounded they slump
Bullet ridden
Bloodied bodies
Sodden
The coast of England up ahead
Welcomes the live
And will remember the dead
Distant engines
The airfield hears
Crippled planes
Grow near and near
Families gather as they fly over
Did their loved ones
Pass the cliffs of Dover
Ambulance, tenders
Race to the scene
Pieces of man
Their life no longer a dream
Carried in care
Blanketed shroud
Dads and sons
Did their country proud
The airmen who walked out
Turned and looked to the sky
This mission by men
As they wonder why
Pain and suffering
For the right to be free
As the future has thanked
As we look back and see.
Dedicated to all who served, to allow us to write and read.
We can fire our words, but they will never make us bleed.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php
In time shadows in an old windy shed
are names of sojourners who've passed this way;
now my wandering boot does older tread
where I passed on a long forgotten day.
I see their faces on wall and jetty
drinking beer, watching the wind and tide turn,
where on horizon across a dark sea
aerodrome Air Squadron lights brightly burn.
Time and tide fade in this hidden cove
where beneath the waves the taniwha rove.
By the salt marshes of this cold gulf sea
I carved my name for a posterity.
On its seawall and rocky jutting shore
the white breasted gulls and shags flit the sky –
yes, there was a time but not anymore
I gazed the stars over Whenuapai.
Crazed by lunar tide and hearts asunder
fumbling some Anglo lass or native girl,
or some legless dumb fool fallen under
feeding the fishes with a mighty hurl!
Into its riptides we dived bombed its depths
on a leap of faith into the drop zone,
and from its pull clung to those ocean steps
where over the Skyhawk war birds had flown.
Time and tide fade in this hidden cove
where beneath the waves the taniwha rove.
By the salt marshes of this cold gulf sea
I carved my name for a posterity.
Those dark undercurrents still rip below
when its flood of memories ebb away,
and now all I am is a time shadow
where I passed on a long forgotten day.
Written: December 1991
We lost a good guy within the last week
Name of Dean Parry Val halla did seek
A full military career this gentleman had
His family and friends are now very sad
We've known Dean since the age of sixteen
When we joined a life in green
A top soldier and tradesman for sure
Serving abroad in many a war
Tommorows the day he'll be laid to rest.
From all of us you were one of the best
The current climate won't let us attend
But we will raise a glass for this absent friend
You join Andy perks at the bar in the sky
Leaving us behind wondering why
We know about demons that you had
Now they are gone and you can be glad
Our condolences to your family
I hope it goes well. as well as can be
R.I.P Dean Respect to thee.
From all the reprobates of 87C
Champion Squadron
Champion Recruit troop
1st Sept 87
Based on a quote from Watership Down:
"He fought because he actually felt safer fighting than running."
His experience in fighting battles
had been friendly games of Monopoly
Rolling dice across a colorful board
after shaking, to hear them rattle.
Those were serious acts of aggression
and hotels were POWs, taken in possession
Weapons were a top hat, thimble or boot
Men built houses, not blew them up
Winner, the one accumulating the most loot
Snake eyes moved him two spaces forward,
instead of sniper eyes on roofs of Park Place
resulting in blood dripping from a man's face
He wished he was only playing a game
But shots were fired from somewhere near
Bullets seeking men to kill and maim
War is fought with emotions of courage and fear
It was time to clear his squadron out
That kind of move is what wars are about
With rifle ready he led the charge
Run through a mine field, though weary and tired
He heard a man cry out, "I've been hit, Sarge!"
Without a free space they could'nt stop to rest
No Short Line Railroad upon which to ride
No fox holes dug, in which to hide
Amid shots fired, he passed down the word, "GO!"
only stopping to collect dog tags of his dead men
This time the battle was fought and won
From a shrapnel wound his blood took flow
It was never bravery that he lacked
It was being interred with a bullet in his back.
When asked why he hadn't turned to run,
knowing his platoon was badly overpowered,
He sighed and replied, "I'm not a coward,
So I rolled the dice and landed on Chance.
The top card said Be brave and attack!
So we fought until we took our property back."
The clouds have opened their eyes wide
And all blackness wiped off the face of
The earth.
Night’s curtain has been drawn.
The rising birds in one single squadron
Halloo the world,
Winging and swinging through the
Broad lanes of the ceruleans.
I wake and tremble with the coldness of
Netted fishes;
My spirit stumbles upon fresh thresholds
Whiter with the dews of a prostrating day.
I return to my first day when I had cried.
I speak of my vagitus.
Morning celebrates itself,
Its return from a wayward night trip,
And the glory of dawn.
Crows from drunken cockerels
Ring out loud and clear on the spine of
The village,
Saluting the birth of a new-born day.
"The Liberation"
When your home
is torn out from underneath you,
like a rug or a tablecloth,
nothing of value is left standing
on the surface, except silence.
life implodes for a while,
you’d think the vessel empty.
however, eventually,
what burns inside
is enough to fuel
an atomic missile;
you think better of that
and turn your efforts towards
other higher-level new worlds
and your escape mission.
a bid for life at all costs,
you take survival
and run with it,
igniting the benefits
of universal Love,
blasting off
from the nucleus
with the courageous
winged warriors
locked in, seated;
from the front
you turn the
ignition key,
squadron leading
The Liberation
platforms
like it's
some kind of baptism
by fire,
like it's
some kind of rebirth,
like it's
some kind of suicide mission
you smile, and
settle for,
Thanks Giving Season.
mission accomplished,
you've become ungrounded,
you're finally leaving
Earth
Women and children
first
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2022)
Family.
This life anew was not my plan,
one of a single dad.
To have to save them from their mom
took everything I had.
A lost lone pilot in a storm
This new life had begun
This wide-eyed squadron mine to lead
two daughters and two sons
Weary faces, eyes full of hope,
my orders tough but clear
A life-long commitment of love
never measured in years
Buckled in tight, safe and secure,
their hearts now free to soar.
"Live your childhoods, I've got you now,"
for what's a father for?
To listen, care, and to be there
when turbulence arived.
Often banking into the wind
just to keep them alive.
Struggles came via various veins,
not much could be done.
We faced them like a family
for all as all for one.
No one could straff the love we shared.
No one would treat them mean.
If e'er another dared to try,
they're not long for the scene.
Triumphs grew as failings grew few,
their confidence did rise.
Trauma faded into the past
Their futures open skies.
They earned my trust, respect, and praise
With honor grace and grit
I taught them how to fly one day.
To own their lifes cockpit
Watching them grow, these lessons in tow.
The honor of my life
Each successful, ducks in a row.
My yoke no longer strife.
The family I always wanted.
The one I never had
I knew I'd earned it when they said,
"We've got you now dad."
They were nearing LaGuardia Airport when the pilot felt a sudden urge.
He told the copilot to grab the yoke saying his bladder he must purge!
He left the cockpit and wended his way to the lavatory in the rear.
Thus, a series of events unfolded, some of which remain quite unclear!
Things 'flowed' along nicely until the pilot attempted to exit the john!
Alas, the door was jammed and he mused, "Is someone putting me on?"
When he tried to escape from his predicament he discovered a catch;
He was alarmed to find that the doggone door had a defective latch!
In the cockpit the copilot was growing very uneasy about their plight.
The tower called to say they were 50 miles out and were cleared to alight!
To add to his consternation, some jerk was pounding on the cockpit door,
Yelling with a foreign accent - a serious situation he dare not ignore!
The tower operator, just to be certain there would be no later regrets,
Wisely called the Air Force and they alerted a squadron of their jets!
The copilot proffered a prayer saying, "Lord, have mercy on us please!
Help, Lord! Landing this bird alone will test my fortitude and expertise!"
In the meantime good Samaritans helped the pilot to escape his cell!
He scampered to the cockpit to take charge and all turned out well!
This mortifying escapade will be long remembered in airline lore,
About the pilot whose wings were clipped by a faulty lavatory door!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
(Based on an actual incident that occured on a flight from Asheville, NC
to LaGuardia Airport, 16 Nov 2011. Written with just a tad of embel-
lishment!)