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 Feb 2021
The outsider Rebel
Maze of life
Does not describe
How this reality plays

We live or die
Bonded to the destiny
Take me, beauty of soul

Another dread begins
Can you save me?

Or just a masquerade
To show me
The beauty of a rebellion
 Feb 2021
Don Bouchard
My brother is a pilot,
Not just any old pilot...
A tail dragger pilot,
Champions
Cubs,
Super Cubs.

Planes made of spars and fabric,
Held tight
By screws
And dope,
And glue.

Airframes part wood,
Part aluminum,
Part steel.

Fuel tanks sloshing in the wings
Either side above our heads,

Set the mags,
Hand crank the prop,
Turn on the fuel,
Hear her pop
And roar to life.

We strap in
Single file,
Controls fore
And aft.
And rev 'er up
To join the winds.

Once up,
He yells, "She's yours!"
And I am piloting,
Or rather gingerly sliding her
About the blue,
Skidding right or left,
Holding my breath,
Wondering how much I dare
To tip her up there in the air.

"I've got the stick!"
He yells, and I let go.
"Don't be afraid to fly it!"
"It's just a machine!"
"Make it do what you want it to do!"

And we are diving toward the ground,
Then bringing her up and tilting 'round.

"Give her fuel when you tilt to turn!"
He demonstrates, and we are standing
On the wing,
Perpendicular and looking to our left and down.


I know he's right,
That I am timid in my flight,
And he is brave with years of joy,
A pilot fearless since he was a boy.

"You want to land?"
I hear him say.

"No, that's alright!"
"Not today!"

To prove how safe it is to fly,
He touches down,
Then bounces high,
And vaults us back into the sky.

We flit across the fields,
And then,
He flies beneath the power lines,
To show how spray planes catch the ends
Of fields.

He skies the plane at either end,
Then bee lines it to the badlands' edge
Where suddenly we are swooping down
Between the canyon walls, and sinking low,
Then, rising, turning to our right,
He sails us toward sun's dying light.
My only hope is that we will land
Before the night
Erases all our sight.

And sure enough,
The air is calm.
The night is coming on.
Gusting breezes are all gone.

We gently settle once again,
Back at the ranch,
And I help wheel her, then
Into her waiting hangar pen.

Life can be lived all in a panic.
Fear fills us with a lingering dread,
But we should live our lives.

Just like my brother said.
"It's just your life, so make it do
Whatever it is you want it to!
revision
 Feb 2021
Marshal Gebbie
Light and deep shade dancing
As I stride the mountain pass
My fascination prancing
As appreciations bask.
There's a tui in the cherry
And a magic song he sings
As he annoints the morning air
With the joy a summer brings.
There's a vibrancy a-hovering
And a crispness to the feel
A clarity so scintillating
One might, actually, doubt it's real.
A sky, so blue to be azure,
Extends across, on high,
Cloudless with a baking sun
Impaling you and I.
These old volcanoes soar aloft
They, now quiescent, stand,
Clad thick in stands of Kamahi
And towering Rimu, grand.
Great Egmont with her snowy crown
Rears high above it all
To dominate the beautious-ness
Of ***** and waterfall.
A tiny fantail flits about
And so entrances me
With aerial bombardments, flung,
In near impossibility.
The song of rivers plummeting
Down ferny glades and stone-
Causing me to laugh aloud
In serenade of home.
And sauntering through this wonderous-ness
Of magnificence in green,
This glory of New Zealand,
Is, indeed, the very best ...I've seen.

M.
Midsummer Taranaki, NZ
30 January 2021
 Feb 2021
John Destalo
we hold hands
create a connection

function as one
large being

one heart
one soul
one mind

we feel the energy
an invigorating force

sharing one life
we reach up

through the layer
above us

gain the vision
of the eagle

see across time
and space

into the meaning
of everything

it leaves us
wordless

we take a
vow of silence
 Feb 2021
Joel M Frye
there was a time
we broke the bones
of each other's poems
and savored marrow
explored what made them breathe
sought out
warm arterial pulses
examined the hearts
to find the essence of their lives

it was vital to us
in the truest sense of the word

life today is too cheap
to waste that much time
Few of you have been around that long. It's okay.
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