He hears again
the far-off jiggling of keys,
the throaty cough of ignition,
recalls strafing lights
on a night-blurred road.
Moths, like pale flowers,
crash against the windscreen.
Over-reaching branches
whip back and forth, warping
a transfixed retina.
A gritty sleet, then,
the bloodied head, the matted fur,
the flaying shanks;
a frozen shock laid bare.
Returning to the garage,
warm metal ticks,
he stares at a dark windscreen,
the dead
spread across his mind
still looking for a way out.
Categories:
strafing, poetry,
Form: Free verse
RISKS
Scarred hills, risked mine shafts, dark and deep.
The plonk of a stone, dropped into water, far below.
Kids drifted to sounds of the gold-rush, pick and windlass.
But inside our school, Sir recruited afternoon classes into
battle. We piloted Spitfires, strafing Messerschmitts. Bingo!
The plane aflame, out of control. Drifting down, down. A spiral
of smoke.
Our teacher paced, face aglow. Alive to the tremble, the thrill,
in distant summer skies.
Windscreen hit, the scatter of shattered
glass. His odyssey of courage and blood …
At three thirty, older boys reminded Sir,
Time to go home.
Surprise in our mentor’s eyes .
His Spitfire hadn’t even landed.
Categories:
strafing, 3rd grade, adventure, courage,
Form: Free verse
He hears again the far off
jiggling of keys in an ignition,
as the car rocks
his ears magnifying scrapes of sound.
eyes still seeing strafing lights on a dim road.
He had already turned from the windscreen,
A dark evening, a gritty sleet, and under it,
the bloodied head, the matted fur,
the thin shanks of shock laid bare –
then the second car.
That car disjoints and deforms
a creature into a death-spread.
Moths, like dark flowers press against his
dazed thoughts.
Warm metal ticks on.
Categories:
strafing, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Tenement buildings falling to bits
Victims of precision hits
Sirens wailing, people running
Smoke and darkness, engines gunning
Antiaircraft guns are blazing
Towards the sky the bullets strafing
A distant rumble just like thunder
Another street is torn asunder
Bodies lying on the road
Families left with no abode
Among the rubble pets are lying
Some in shock, others dying
Despite it all a sense of calm
People sing a well known psalm
Thanking God for their survival
Whilst waiting on the Sun's arrival
The spirit of them all unbroken
Words like defeat are never spoken
Courage born of toil and sweat
Pride in everyone you met
A town rebuilt by men of worth
Regarded as the salt of the earth
Rising from the ashen pits
Created by Clydebank blitz..
Categories:
strafing, adventure,
Form: Blitz
I am not used to random acts of kindness,
To smiling faces, to a hand reached out.
I mostly see an unveiled curiosity,
Or glances strafing past my small frame.
Instead of growing thick skin, I have developed
The art of friendly smiling to perfection.
Which, in turn, receives replies in kindness.
Unexpected too, small smiles, a shoulder touched.
I wheel among them, nigh unnoticed, a path
always opens itself for me, a river split without
anyo4th place ne having to announce that will happen.
That one day this small girl stood right in front
of me, with her endearing curiosity and her bear.
I smiled and ticced as is my habit, to which
she smiled and handed me her bear.
Such kindness!
And then she said: "You can hold
him for a while if I can ride in your chair"
:)
***
February 3, 2017
4th place in contest: Random acts of kindness
Sponsor:: Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
strafing, child, fun, funny, nice,
Form: Narrative
Braising sun stagnate, scaring blistering air, sand cutting strafing, more will I mention, elements raising, wedge freely created, by those who do not care.
Floods freely forging, water crushing scare, wave weaving pressing, life lightly wasted, warnings for all to beware.
Categories:
strafing, community, earth, environment, natural
Form: Free verse
Black battalions
Loom large
And march across the darkening hills
Sweeping away the light.
It is then they unleash
Their strafing salvoes
Flattening the standing stalks
With their drenching drops.
Once they have exhausted
Their arsenal
They smoothly scatter to reveal
The healing light.
The shedding warmth
Dries out the air
Leaving the corpses of crops
Clearly embedded in the dust.
Categories:
strafing, loss, natural disasters, rain,
Form: Free verse
Churlish wind hovers overhead
Ready to chart its path of dread
By wistful, listless conductor led
Twirling baton with rotors fed
A swirling blender over land spread
Careening, eerie echo left in its stead
Fluffing the threads of barren bed
Wispy fibers in ginning whirlpool sped
Silty granules from denuded top shred
Strafing the strands of every bare head
Categories:
strafing, nature
Form: Rhyme
Standing 'neath rocky vestige on Hatteras Cape
Overhead, sky's billowy caverns offer cerebral escape
Proffering delusions of grandeur in every size, shape
A ventilated ocean of blue; visions of bliss at which to
gape
Yet mind firmly planted in gravity's brace
Earthy ambitions wandering eye doth embrace
Nature's rhythms around beating heart do drape
Cluttered ridges enveloped by Crape Myrtle's sallowing
serape
Dark clouds swoon over the ridges, panoramic view
efface
Malingering light house hovers o'er the shadowy terrace
An angry ocean rises and then tumbles at rocky base
Cool, frothy ocean mist curdles my exposed nape
Cresting waves pound shoals; weary feet do chase
Swirling wind hurdles stinging needles at weathered face
Screaming sea gulls serenade, then with strafing swoops
menace
Categories:
strafing, natureocean,
Form: Rhyme
.
He had gone round about what he had been through inside out.
The bomber's cockpit taught him what power is all about:
Feeling like Zeus hurling down at will thunderbolts at foes
as he criss-crossed skies, strafing wherever the cross-hair goes.
Awesome might in his fingers, life and death on his trigger.
been there, done that, no big dealfor this retiree-bomber.
In his waning years, still lost as to what it was about,
the ultimate end, doubting the benefit of the doubt.
He recalled lines heard long ago on being brave, strong and true.
Said he was, but with rockets he had to fire, bombs to strew,
he must have rocked the world with blasts his whole life through,
obeyed the dark side of combat command, red, white and blue.
.
Categories:
strafing, warlife,
Form: Rhyme
In the centre of Caen
On this war torn night
Spandau's strafing
All the Canadian soldiers in sight
Sergeant Baker
Is hit in the thigh
A flesh wound its not
He's in bleeding die
As he cries out in pain
The bullets rain down
Zipping and pinging
In this beautiful French town
His head down
As he awaits his fate
His collar is grabbed
Now in dragging state
His colleague and friend
Has risked his life
To save another
From mans war torn strife
As they scramble away
Upon them comes
A Tiger tank
Over the wall she runs
To a shell hole they dive
As a rocket strikes
Through it's armoured steel
In precision bite
Internal explosion
Screams of death
Tank crew gone
In battle reft
The town now liberated
In population applause
As we sit in the square
Wondering of wars just cause
" Dedicated to all the Canadian and British soldiers
who liberated Caen from June to August 1944 "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php
Categories:
strafing, angst, death, devotion, history,
Form: Rhyme
Soaring into the air,
strafing the clear blue skies
traversing land and moutains high,
the eagle flies, a bird of awesome size.
It's wings, huge bellows trapping air,
send tiny creatures into spasms with fear.
Stooping low, talons drawn
scoop up unsuspecting prey
an innocent hare out to play
then lays its find in a nest on high
food for another day.
Birds in the air tremble and roll
at the flap of its mighty wings
that slice through currents of air,
a powerful force on course
to a distant shore.
Silent like the wind that blows,
the clouds that float,
it sweeps the highs and lows
a haughtier bird we'll never know
nor witness allure so rare.
With feathers of winking gems, illusive hues
teased by playful rays of the sun,
It streaks accross oceans deep
turning waves into defensive ones
that hope the eagle will not stay
but continue on its merry way.
Despite it all, man can only
stand in awe, so rare,so wondrous a sight.
With oohs and ahhs he stands agape,
transfixed by a beauty untold
yet remembers too the sayings of old
All that glitters...is not gold.
Categories:
strafing, philosophy, bird, bird,
Form: Rhyme
He had gone round about what
he had been through inside out;
in the bomber's cockpit, he had known
what omnipotence is basically all about;
that heady feeling of being Zeus
hurling down thunderbolts at foes,
as he crisscrossed vast, hostile skies,
strafing wherever the cross-hair goes;
awesome might in his forefinger,
life or death on the warming trigger,
been there, done that, no big deal,
retiree-bomber tries to remember;
in his waning years, still at a loss
as to what it really was all about,
the ultimate end, meaning of it all,
doubting the benefit of the doubt;
recalling lines heard long ago
on being brave, strong and true;
said he was, but with missiles
he had to fire, bombs to strew,
he must have rocked the world
with blasts his whole life through,
obeying the dark side of combat
command red, white and blue!
Categories:
strafing, death, life, philosophy, life,
Form: Rhyme