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Warplanes Poems

Note: The forms for these poems were selected by the poet. Often poems are assigned the wrong form. Please confirm the accuracy of the poetic form before referencing the poem.

List of New Poems

PMPoem TitlePoetFormCategories  
There is no future thelast don ABC warplanes, america,
The Old Man Mario Vitale Free verse warplanes, absence, allusion,
Stalingrad Faleeha Hassan I do not know? warplanes, love,
Smiling Monster Omojewve Emmanuel Brown Light Verse warplanes, abuse, birthday,
Watch Them Fall Derek Ortiz I do not know? warplanes, war

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Above are examples of poems about warplanes. This list of poems is composed of the works of modern international poet members of PoetrySoup. Read short, long, best, famous, and modern examples of warplanes poetry. This list of works is an excellent resource for examples of these types of poems.

Warplanes Poem Example


During moments I yearned for forests grown for me alone,
Caressing them in a dream,
I could sense the throbbing of the heart 
Hidden beneath my ribs to bless my journey. 
Summoning me with a pulse that he recognizes in me.
I heard the noise of abandoned smoke from a moment of care
Join with me,
Forcefully traversing desires to the hidden-most one.
My spirit swung toward him,
Creating a tingling
On lips that devour breaths alive.
I felt ashamed,
But the eye,
In moments—I scarcely know what to call them—that took me on another route
Toward the television, saw warplanes . . . spray death on them.
At that moment,
The fire of machine guns raked all the bodies,
And another fire raked my body when I trained my eye on him
Hesitantly inclining his head 
Toward a shoulder unaccustomed to the secret of the stars of war
Or to insomnia.
Oh . . . . I leaned on it!
And when he caressed a dumbfounded person 
I felt his fingers like coiling embers inside me.
Bashfulness seized the excuse this caress gave . . . and vanished,
Eliminating distance till the two of us were one.
And the eye—he moaned: May love not forgive her the eye—repeated another evasion
Toward a drizzle of men flung about in the air by just the rustling of a pilot penetrating a building
To fall on screens as the debris of breaking news.
But his breaths . . . shattering the still down of the cheek,
And turning their picture into mist as 
Eddies of the screen’s corpses . . . varieties of death that they brought them.
The spirit that became a body,
The body that was sold for the sake of a touch,
The eye that was concealed in his image
And that approached the firebrand of conflagrations.
Everyone drawing close to everyone,
But the thunder of their machine guns splintered them:
Corpses piled on corpses,
I mean on me,
The eyes of those in it were extinguished.
They slept in a trench of silence.
My eyes’ lids parted in a wakefulness obsessed with them.
I rose … and embraced the chill 
That the screens brought me in commemoration of Stalingrad.

Translated by William Hutchins

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