Propulsion Poems | Examples

Presumption of Innocence

If innocence presumption
Prohibits the assumption
Then Federal Intelligence 
Provides the Introduction
Enforced with the propulsion
That dealing with corruption
Has factors of the that
That innocence presumption
To Justice the obstruction
The object does determine 
As guilty hypocrite
On level definitions 
Concerned with composite 
And thus investigation 
Of the administration
For damage to the judgement
Occurs this fine INIT
CON,
the CONSOLIDATION!
Fed,
BURRO.
Information.

We too shall fly

Coming around the bend to find the atmosphere so clear
Seeing that off in the distance fields of diamonds growing near
No one holds onto this string; It flies oblivious to all forms of fear
Kiting through heavens gate falling a million lightning tears
Time holds no grip on them and will never be able to in a millenia years
Clouds are unique in that way; that no one controls or steers
The human soul on fire allows propulsion deep into the nights' sky
But succumb they will not to the same oppressor as you or I;
If all yielded to which we wield within our time, we too shall fly

Fishing Holiday

Fishing Holiday

A kingfisher sitting on the old harbour wall
Listening to the geese from the mud flats call
I'm here for some sea fishing until after the thaw
Braced against the north wind so cold and raw

No Kamikaze diving into a frozen pond
The quickest route through to a life beyond 
I need to cut a hole to fish with rod and line
To catch minnows like an Eskimo for my  tea time

A sound of crunching from the lake what can it be
I fly over the marsh to take a look and see
Two swans are on the salt lagoon a winter wonderland 
I watch from the sluice gate where the water is damned 

The leaders pushing through the thick sea ice
Slowly inching forward, heroic self-sacrifice 
Jet propulsion is required, web feet redesigned 
Whilst tail end Charlie swims serenely behind  

The Buntings skating through the reeds ask me to stay
But I've frost bitten feathers and don't want to play
The brochure promised beaches and sunshine every day
I am flying further south for my next Seaside holiday

Keyhaven Marshes, 17th January 2023

The Swan

White and pure
Light and soft
The swan shows strength
As launched aloft

Gliding smooth
Across the lake
Majestic king
Or disguised fake

He swims so gently
Yet below sight
The propulsion needed
Take all his might. 

Analogous  with calm
And chaos in equal measure
The swan hoodwinks us all
In his apparent pace of leisure.

Be Amongst Few

Mediocrity, Excellence two shores
Waves of Efforts connecting shores 

Surf on tide, swim against flow of ocean
Be ashore leveraging art of propulsion

Mediocrity, a reality, almost repulsive
Excellence, a rarity, almost elusive 

Race of Excellence, making man a rat
Each gnawing at other to breast the tape 

Peaks exist because of bottom layers 
Underneath layers vital for peak to be there 

Peak below feet, mark of Excellence pursuit
Feet dragging at layers, a mediocre feat

Peak and layer, complementary pair
Live with conviction, dash of dare 

Peak accommodates just few
If at layer, gear up, stir up, be amongst few 
-----------------------------------------------------------------
© Dr Hitendra Mehta

Satanology 7 Satan and Places

As damned territorial as lion,
On this, kind of unflinching Iron.
Not just on a single occasion 
Mention made of his sure location…

Ex-Occupant of Lord God’s Heaven
After acting worse than a Raven;
From it flushed out and he found Earth
And there had been before Creative Birth.

No regrets, though, over Expulsion
On Earth ‘A Flier’ in propulsion 
The same chaining for Christ‘s Temptation 
Christ muteness on this “Attestation.’’  
On Earth, seeker of crowd for snares,
A man there for damage, poor repairs 
Also the Non-Trodden Wilderness 
Unhappily yielding wildness 

Lot after Sodom, Xenophobia 
That could just suppress Claustrophobia, 
So, that Daughter might sleep with Dad
And The Hapless Old Guy gives a Lad…

Ghost-Written

My poems are ghost-written.
I scarcely identify the visitants
Mingling with heedless shadows.

Poltergeists outfit my words.
Though we converse,
I hardly know them,
And seldom fathom
Their prophecies.

My poems hemorrhage
In convulsive madness
Like the speaker in tongues,
Unleashing foreboding fragments,
That I might discern some divination.
But my autonomous hands move on
Planchettes over enigmatic spirit boards
For which I act only as outlet.

My poems are ghost-written.
My stanzas are tent revivals arrayed
Down the page with ritual dance.
Faith healers shout and wail,
bending my lines
wending a trail of travail,
They conjure all specters to avail. 

My poems are ghost-written.
My words breathe and writhe.
They live as cells squirming for life.
Yet, inflections within them always
Mutter from another,
A propulsion between impression and
Arousal.

Power

                          knowledge
                         puzzles lifted
                  cherishing rising thoughts
                propulsion to improvement
                              wisdom













Cinquain written August 5/21
For Brian Strand Contest, 4 or 5 line poem

Life Surfaces

restless contemplation
girl sits on a swing
her gaze fixed
comely, resolute
formatting future

she pumps the air
full swing propulsion 
leans back, legs outstretched 
long hair snakes the ground
body pushing harder, higher
wanting feet to bleed the clouds
       like magic happening
to soar out of grimy
to tuck into the sky's release

to slip from the brute inside
his slab of words and deeds
who taunts, "You're just a girl!"
        as he covers her mouth with his hand

she wants to jump off
better not
the gravel wounds
she skids to a stop

a small life wedged into cracks
sullen glances
       at horizons dislocated
rummaging thoughts
to step out of drowning
       hoping her tide leaves no traces

Get Over Yourself

dread weight portends a churning belly-ache
  the day sinking ......
  relentless countdown to the frowning hours
  before the night of fitful sleep awakes disturbed
  that day is now here ...... too soon the unwelcome light


  numb propulsion, impending imminent
  door opening ......
  pounding heart, cold palms sweat and muscles tense
  room full of others with turning eyes, closing ranks
  see inside myself ......  projected back, enquiring looks


  I am they, all watching and they are right
  feedback feeding ......
  clenched fist focus on self-fulfilling fool
  someone speaks to me! to me! I feel the blood surge
  as flushed cheeks inflame ...... and amplify my distress


  slight surprise, recoil, rebuffed dismissal
  stranded squirming ......
  cornered, hurried walk to any doorway
  blunder into the venue hall, seats at the back
  anonymity ...... breathe once more, escape route planned


  steal away, out of sight, try to regroup
  reprocessing ......
  unravelled depressing disappointment
  sucker punched, floored again, selfish whimper
  referee above...... whispers " get over yourself "

Keep Walking

“spell of maya, induces a stupor
luminous self, fallen caricature”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pouring our aliveness into the dream,
that each pulse therein we vividly feel,
delusional agenda ego streams,
hypnotic illusions having appeal,
compelling us by contraction, to kneel.

Our choiceless choice to create a dream world,
wherein amidst our own thought forms we curl,
per say a play of innocence harmless
but for indulgence in cravings unfurled;
in stagnation, feeling separateness.

Duality pulse births polarity,
wax and wane, attraction and propulsion;
our anxiety and serenity,
between which there is void of cessation.
Dwell there, oh hermit, in meditation!

We are and be as our attention flows,
stupor by pausing, self inflicted blow,
for otherwise, presence is always free,
imbibing divine bliss in stillness slow,
enjoying gift of life, with childlike glee!

23-December-2020

Space Odyssey of Love

Two drifting hearts 
pining to be one,
hover on the convergent surge 
of the winds of yearning.
Once fused, the primal passion 
drives their propulsion,
taking them to the carnal heights 
of cosmic longing,
consummated in celestial silence.

At the acme of surreal desire 
of magnetic craving,
the private spaces of the two bodies 
implode to disappear.
Their mingled souls 
then turn into the singularity 
suspended in deep outer space
where in astral ballet 
they sway entwined.  

The blended bodies 
of sculpted silhouette,
framed against the diffused glow 
of the crescent moon,
float to the edge of nebular clouds,
away from the intangible allure
of the blue planet, 
that couldn’t thwart 
the space odyssey of love.

January 25, 2020
Contest : Picture Prompt
Sponsor : Brenda Chiri

P - President

Propped open, perched up
Placed in place on your pedestal
Pondering if your position on top is permanent, your premeditated perverse becomes paranoia
Protracting your path of prideful propulsion while we pause, preoccupied by the propaganda polluting our vision  
To the public your punctual, full of purpose
Pitiful, people cannot perceive the true purpose in your perception
This prison you have placed us in painted as a palace, a paradise for the pensive person
Persistent on pushing politics with a personal preference and no proof of positive effects
A private and profound plan to purge a percentage of the populace
And you are just a piece to the puzzle
Purely a puppet
To ponder is a principal of the people not yet punishable
The paralyzed population still has pupils, piercing through your puny pompous perspective you call protection

Tumbleweed

Tumbleweed
(My Life B. C.)
By: Tom Wright
11/06/2006

I was drifting through life resembling tumbleweed
Encountering life’s challenges at each unseen bend.
I was just tumbling along paying things little heed
Propulsion was provided by the days prevailing wind

My vision had become clouded and I had a misplaced trust
Then my thoughts became consumed by things past tense.
My armor, while never shiny, was now devoured by rust
Cancer became my stopper, not some flimsy barbwire fence.

Explosion Corrosion

Three two one explosion

mind corrosion 

that needs to be warn down by a peaceful ocean

taking off like jet propulsion 

my heart starts pulsing 

beating out my chest cavity 

things just had to be 

had to happen rapidly

get mixed up in confusion unhappily  

emotions beat me down 

until I start bruising

start losing

start choosing

mixed up directions and paths

you try and figure it out there is no math

equation or persuasion 

just a mask and a nine inch knife like Jason 

realize who you are facing

before you try and bout 

and lose to a first round knock out. -TA

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