Squadron Poems | Examples

Morning

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.

Time and Tide

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.
Into its riptides we dived bombed its depths
  where over the skyhawk war birds had flown,
and from its pull clung to those ocean steps
  in the big drag of clays, sand and mudstone.
Now time and tide fade on this hidden cove
where beneath the waves the taniwha rove.


           Written: December 1991


*taniwha in Maori folklore are sea creatures 
  depicted as serpents or dragons with fiery eyes.
  On occasion I saw a few people swimming 
  there that fit that description but no serpents.

*Skyhawks were RNZAF combat fighter jets.

Reading a Memory

Begins with Rupert Bear,
Until that was found too square;
Then Just William came on the scene,
But soon became a childish has-been.

Youth-filled reading,a melanged mix,
Biggles & squadron,sixty-six;
The hero,Algy & Ginger against the hun,
Adventures that made him number one.

Onto Enid's Famous Five,
Long before PC, could deprive;
Julian,Anne George & Rick
In books,fast moving and slick.

Growing into mid-teens,
And weekly,Hollywood magazines;
Adolescence & steamy Jansen,
As puberty surfaced,so sudden.

The adult library then opened wide,
Answering questions,none could hide;
So many books read,good,poor & rotten,
MInd-blowing but ,so cosmopolitan.

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007

The Liberation

"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)

R I P Dean

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

They Weren'T Wanted

World wars 1 and 2
The wars to end all wars
But for some, they couldn't fight for the country 
Because of the color of their skin 

They weren't wanted 

Even though they could enlist 
Segregation ran rampant 
Treated like second class citizens 
Not afforded the respect of soldiers 

Or as men 

Eugene Bullard 

A pilot, not a just a ***** pilot
Not wanted by his country, he flew for France 
Nicknamed "Black Swallow of Death"
He did for them what he couldn't do for us 

Fight for a country 

The Tuskegee Airman 

The 99th pursuit squadron 
First African American unit deployed 
The best and the brightest
The red tailed angels 

Spit Fire! 

The 369th Harlem Hellfighters 

Racism at its worst, Blacks wanted to fight 
But turned away 
But as with the Airmen 
They too proved their courage under fire 

The 761st Tank battalion 

Patton's panthers 
"Don't let your people down 
Hell, don't let me down"
The point of the spear
Sgt Ruben Rogers, Medal of Honor 

Fighting the war on 2 fronts
On the battlefield 
And at home 
No matter what was done 

They still weren't wanted 

(c)kingpen2021

Past Times 9

Reading
Begins with Rupert Bear,
Until that was found too square;
The Just William came on the scene,
But soon became a childish has-been.

Youth-filled reading,a melanged mix,
Biggles & squadron,sixty-six;
The hero,Algy & Ginger against the hun,
Adventures that made him number one.

Onto Enid's Famous Five,
Long before PC, could deprive;
Julian,Anne George & Rick
In books,fast moving and slick

Swipe In Vain

mozzie squadron fleets
roaring overhead in droves
dive to ear in waves
scream whining hisses so loud
that my swipes beats my brains out

Let Me Tell You a Story

it all started with Rupert Bear
until
  . . he was found too square
then Just William came on the scene
but soon 
   a childish has-been

into Enid's Famous Five
happily
       before PC could deprive
Julian,Anne 
George & Rick
      writing  fast moving & slick

youth-filled reading
         a melanged mix
Biggles & squadron,sixty-six
the hero,Algy & Ginger
              against the hun
an air ace made him number one.

growing into mid-teens&
       weekly Hollywood magazines
adolescence & steamy Jansen
    puberty  so sudden.

the adult library 
        then opened wide
answering questions none could hide
since then
   many read    
       good,poor     & rotten
                
but 
books  books  still to find
    to fill
          my university of the mind 
   
  'til poetry
   
then found me

      to rhyme verse  to thee
     
    
    

Year Posted 2007

Stepping Stones

Begins with Rupert Bear,
Until that was found too square;
The Just William came on the scene,
But soon became a childish has-been.

Youth-filled reading,a melanged mix,
Biggles & squadron,sixty-six;
The hero,Algy & Ginger against the hun,
Adventures that made him number one.

Onto Enid's Famous Five,
Long before PC, could deprive;
Julian,Anne George & Rick
In books,fast moving and slick.

Growing into mid-teens,
And weekly,Hollywood magazines;
Adolescence & steamy Jansen,
As puberty surfaced,so sudden.

The adult library then opened wide,
Answering questions,none could hide;
So many books read,good,poor & rotten,
MInd-blowing but ,so cosmopolitan.

At the Stroke Of

At the stroke of.....
The 11th hour on the 11th day,
The guns fell silent as if to say,
Enough is enough, the weary did cry,
Lay down your arms so no more will die.
The landscape where homes once stood,
Was twisted metal and shattered wood.
All around was daubed in gaudy red,
The battleground where brave men bled.
So many died, it was for a just cause,
Now it is our turn to stop and pause.
We will stand in silence for The Last Post.
Later at the Squadron Bar,raise a toast.
To those who gave their all in times of war,
May their deaths seal war forever more.
Please, on the morrow, just stop your stride,
Please for 2 minutes, bow your head with pride.
Remember,for your freedom, they died.
© Dave Timperley 10 November 2019

In the Darkened Foyer

In the Darkened Foyer


There you are again.
Walking this darkened foyer, and that carpeted hallway,
Eyeing the sunken-eyed dancer who forgets she’s not alive;
She’s just passing by all the sickness of dissipated humanity, 
Wrapped in a single walk, and a solitary stretcher,
With a squadron of crucifixes affixed to the skin tags,
Applied with holy powders on these ancient, prayer-eaten walls,
These never-ending white walls that stretch before us,
Telling stories of prolonged death spasms, and postponement, 
Of human decline in the face of the hopeful ones,
And the healing ones, with shocked knowing grins,
And the comatose ones, who know when to at last wake up;
Wake up! I say to the dead ones, the digested ones, long interred!
Now is the time to move your monuments and your dirt.
Now is the time to complain to the clock, the cold twitching clock,
That now holds no eternal sway in either direction for you or me!
Or all the dead ones, lying over there on solitary stretchers,
Under white sheets, in the darkened foyer.

It Was January '68

It was January '68
Chapter 1 - arrival
by Franklin Price
2/13/2019

It was January '68
The place was Cam Ranh Bay
The embattled country, Vietnam
Home's half a world away

Had not a clue what to expect
As I left the freedom plane
Return was one long year away
Quite an adjustment for my brain

The Air Force was my service branch
Nav-Aids my specialty
Was in since 1965
Pounding the ground was not to be

Processing in was just a blur
This place was new to me
The sun was blinding off white sand
That was everywhere to see

Somehow got to the squadron
To the place I'd lay my head
To a hooch with canvas roof
Where a cot would be my bed

Of course no air conditioning
Had to contend with tropic clime
Was glad was raised in Florida
Had no AC any time

Soon found there were cold showers
No hot water to be found
A six seater for a ter
No flushing toilets were around

No hole, as with an outhouse,
Half drums caught the downward bound
When full, burned with jet fuel
And spread the ashes on the ground

485th GEEIA was my squadron
Could not wait for TDY
Nothing to do when home at Cam Ranh
But rake the sand and wonder why

Bush Cat Killers

BUSH CAT KILLERS

Lions hunt anything,
They hunt all the while,
They approach their prey,
With incredible guile.
Their plan is strategy,
When they attack,
And like a squadron of
Soldiers surround their
Prey in a pack.
Lions have a reliable nose,
And with their sharp hearing,
This leads to a kill,
And the whole pride
Will enjoy their fill.
Their young are taught to stalk
With co-ordinated precision,
And together one day,
Will form a formidable coalition.
Their stealth and power,
Is a fearsome might,
They have spotted their,
Their kill,
And execute at their will,
Under the cover of night!
Often, opportunity
Knocks at their door,
As an old exhausted 
Elephant falls at their feet,
On a stony river bank floor,
And provides an abundance 
Of food, attracting drifters,
Like a crocodile!
Lion and crocodile stick to their 
Boundaries In an uneasy truce,
Until the territorial 
Hippos appear
And come near,
And the Lions then run, 
Churning river sand loose!
They leave the elephant carcass 
In the lost and found,
Swiftly running for
Higher ground!
It’s time for them to not
Be a hero,
As one hippo bite,
Can zip them to zero!

Sewing Machine

Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust
in Grandma's loft I found, the week after we
laid her to rest next to her slain husband.
He was only twenty four yet a squadron leader
when his spitfire was shot down over France.
Mother was only three at the time and my uncle
a babe in Grandma's arms. How awful yet how
familiar those sad stories were then.
The war years seemed like only yesterday
when Grandma would tell us of Grandfather's
gallantry in the face of an evil oncoming foe.
Those stories now came flooding back as I
rummaged in the attic of her cottage with 
a candle to guide my way, tears smarting as I
imagined myself as Mother then, missing a father.
The candle sputtered, spent, and all was dark.

• Short Squadron Poems
• Famous Squadron Poems
• Best Squadron Poems
• Read Squadron Poems
• Long Squadron Poems
• Squadron Quotes