'airforce' poems - Hello Poetry

Shashank K Dwivedi May 2016

Meri pehchan shirf itni hai ki "I'm born in INDIA" Bharat meri pehchan h, Bharat mera samman h, Bharat mera Abhimaan h
||
Aap mujhshe sab kuch cheen sakte **, mera tan mera lahu par meri pahchaan mujhse Bhartiya hone ki nahi cheen sakte aur wahi meri identity hai, mai bhartiya hu mujhe iss par bahot garv hai or iss se uper koi garv mujhe chahie v nahi ||
Mai Bharat maa ka beta hu pahle ,uske baad ek maa ne mujhe janm dia h is sthal bharat bhumi par ussi ki lie kuch likha tha ye ki..
KAASH MERI ZINDGI ME SARHAD KI KOI SHAAM AAYE
KAASH MERI ZINDGI MERE WATAN KE KAAM AAYE
NAA KHAUF HAI MAUT KA OR NAA AARJU HAI JANNAT KI
MAGAR JAB KABHI ZIKR ** SAHEEDO KA
KAASH MERA V NAAM AAYE KAASH MERA V NAAM AAYE
This is what i would love to introduce myself like that....
Agar koi puche ki kaun tha wo -
JAB KOI PUCHE MERE BAARE ME
TO MERI YE PEHCHAAN LIKH DENA
UTHANA MERA COMMANDO DAGGER
OR CHATTI PAR HINDUSTAAN LIKH DENA
KOI PUCHE PAGAL THA WO KAUN
TO BHAGAT SINGH OR KRANTIKARIO KA CHELA
OR INQUILAB KA GULAM LIKH DENA
AUR BACHA ** JO **** ME LAHU
NIKALNA USSE OR FEKANA ZAMEEN PE
OR MAA TUJHE SAALAM LIKH DENA
Yhai parichaye tha hai or rahega...... |||||||||
Aaj kal bahot ek mudda chal rha h Desh bhakti kuch logo ne usse Hinduo se jod dia kuch ne mushlmaano se kuch ne sikkho se kuch ne ishayeo se, ek baat yaad rakhna hum pehchaan hai Ek aisa mahavidyalaya ek aisa university (its like an university ,its like a college the country is like college, we may have different wings, we may have different subjects but we all belong to une college/ university and that is Bharat ||
aaj bahot jaruri ** gya uss ‪#‎traitor‬ us gaddar ya behter language me usse ‪#‎gaddar‬ or ‪#‎Chutia‬ khenge..
lets talk about that person jisne har fauji har iss bharat maa ke bete ko hurt kia h aaj uske baare me baat karna bahot jaruri ** gya h
Naa hinduo se naa mushalmano se
iss mulk ko taqleef hai gaddar or baemaano se
jinhe hum haar samajh baithe the
gala apana sajane ko
wahi ab naag ban baithe
humhi ko kaat khane ko
Pichle 2-3 mahine, it has been disturbing me a lot " I being an Indian ,I being a simple son of this motherland feel hurt ..
Bura lagta haikaaran ye hai log kahte hai hum kuch kar nahi sakte
"Aisa hai karne par aa jaye to bahot kuch kar sakte hai , lekin hum samman karte hai bharat ke sarrwoch nyayalay ka (Supreme court ka )" or uske aadesh ki awhelna nahi karna chahte hai , uske aadesh ka paalan karte hue kuch gaddaro ko aaj v chod rakha hai,
warna aisa hai kaam hi haddia todne ka or jaan lene ka hindustani fauz karti hai |
kisi ne kaha mai unn gaddaro ka naam lena v pasand nahi karunga,bcz wo itna v deserve nahi karte ki unka naam is juban par aaye
but ek cheej bolna bahot jaruri hai ''ki Bhartiya senaa ****** hai"
Agar gharo me baithe ** naa or tumhari behne or tumhari maaye ghar se nikal kar jaa rahi hai to sirf ye hindustani fauz hai jiski dumm pe tumne bhai hone kaa baap hone ka farz nahi nibhaya hoga "this is the only indian armed forces which maintain the degnity of a soldier nad maintains that brotherhood" aapki bahne aapki maaye agar surakshit hai to wo bharat ki senaye hai jiske kaaran hai , bolne ke pahle socha karo or kismat bahot acchi thi ki fauz ke saamne nahi bola warna jo Hero bana di na iss desh ne ,fauz tum jaise ko choddti bhai nahi ....magar ye bharat ka samvidhan hai "there is the constitution of India" jisne baandh rakha hai humare haatho ko , Krodh karna meri aadat nahi hai magar aata hai gussa islie aata hai kyuki chanakya ne kaha ki akshar maine juthe logo ko mushkurate hue dekha hai .. jo sach bolta hai or dil se bolta haai usko gussa bahot aata hai or ye gussa iss bat ka hai ki iss desh me kutto ko maarne ki permission nahi hai isliye abhi tak bache hue ** "Ask ur sister ask ur family members ,if there are 10 young boys & if there is a single soldier ,ask a young girl where would you go for the help and whom would she ask for the help & i insure this that girl would go to a soldier and ask and she will say one thing suddenly she will use this word Bhaiya meri help kijie" kya hai ye jawani sambhal nahi rahi hai to batao 23 saal me Saheed Bahagat Singh,
Ram Prashad Bishmil bada bada kaam kar ke chale gye, bahot garmi aree sena join karo bharat ki fauz me aaodushmano se lado naaghar ke ander kyu dushmani ka mahaool banate **.....
Kisi ek bewkoof ne ye kah diya ki Bhagat Singh jaisa hai ,Abe sharm karo and clear ur facts before you compare that guy with revolutionaries, kaun the wo or kiski baat kar rahe ** uss inshaan ki who can't deliver two right sentences in one particular languages,
Aap uski comparison kar rahe ** jo Bharat ke samvidhan ko gaddar kah rha hai..
Thik hai bolne ki azadi hai magar ye azadi di kisne hai ," The freedom has been given to you bye the constitution of this country,The Honorable Supreme Court has some guidelines the honorable constitution of this country has some guideline and we must respect that "
Aap kaise Bhartiya sena ko ****** kah sakte ** sharm karo uss sentence par agar aaj v bacchia surakshit hai if the Indian youth if everybody who ever is doing what ever they want to do if this freedom has been given to them is just because of one thing that Indian Army ,Navy,Airforce, Indian armed forces are fighting for you day and night.
Jab tum sone jaate ** tab unki duty ka waqt shuru hota hai , sharm khao iss baat k lie aur yaad rakho Bharat ko todne ki koshish mat karo
Naa hinduo se naa mushlmano se
Iss mulk ko taqleef thi hai gaddaro se or bayemano se .
Or yaad rakho "Apni azadi ka galat upyog mat karo "
JAI HIND

Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
Web- skdisro.weebly.com
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
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harmony crescent May 2015

Airforce Husband

harmony crescent May 2015

Airforce Husband

The little bit of time spent every morning, it was my treasure
when I think about the promises you made to me
You would come back

Rush out the door, onto another plane
The risk you took every time you woke up
You would come back

Stroke my hair, thought of me each time you were in the air
Grabbed my hand, kissed my lips, you said
You would come back

Thunderstorms, always I prayed, and hugged our picture frame
I felt you murmur, through all the noise
You would come back

The only promise You ever broke

Because You didn't come back

#husband #airforce

nivek Nov 2014

Russian Military build up their cold war airforce exercises

nivek Nov 2014

Russian Military build up their cold war airforce exercises

all the photographs are blowing in the nuclear wind
photos of trees and lands and people
the sea has boiled dry and the sky has gone away
they walked into it blindfolded by wishes and propaganda
"it wont happen" they said on placards to placate the truth
while the Earth is a blackened ball spinning with death
"it wont happen"

Sean Critchfield Jun 2013

Father's Day

Sean Critchfield Jun 2013

Father's Day

My Father used to buy cars. A lot of cars. Broken down, busted up, P.O.S. cars. Usually VW's. Always on the door of the great rusting field in the sky. He'd park them on the side of the house in a long row. This area was technically off limits, but rest assured that many battles were fought against mythical beasts and imagined armies.

It was a fort, a hideout, a giant clubhouse, and where I saw the inside of my first ***** magazine.

But the landscape was always changing. Evolving. This time line of rust and oxidized paint.

The cars would move forward one by one into the future like plate tectonics and more cars would be added to the past. And each one would make it's way into the garage. The land of curse words and flying tools. It was in the gladiator arena that smelled less like sand and more like grease, that I learned to be a man.

Busted knuckles and loud music. And these cars would raise up on stands, and my father, like a surgeon would open their insides and make them whole again. Slowly. With the time that he had. And the cars would heal and eventually purr to life. And then, one day, they'd be gone.

Some would stay longer than others. Some would be displayed like show ponies. But eventually, they all left. And all the while, I would watch from my graveyard of cars on the side of the house.

It wasn't until I was older that we talked about it. Those cars. I always thought that this was just my dads hobby. Fixing things. It made sense. Anytime I needed something fixed from a toy to an angry heart, I'd take it to my father. And, I suppose, in a way it was.

I asked him about those cars once. Why he did it? Did he miss it? Why didn't he keep them?

He told me that he never intended to keep them. That in his eyes, they were not cars. They were insurance policies. Rent. Food. Emergency house repairs. Peace of mind for my mother.

And it all became clear. My family struggled in my youth. A young couple. A hairdresser and an airforce airplane mechanic. With two kids. Trying to make ends meet.

It was this line of rusted cars that made those ends meet.

It was ****** knuckles, loud music, curse words, and air heavy with sweat and grease that made those ends meet.

And any time the ends would not... quite.. touch...

One of the cars would go.

My father doesn't work on cars anymore. He doesn't have to. He and my mom are successful. Comfortable. They worked hard to become so.

And I am proud of them.

He has traded in his wrenches for other hobbies. Traveling. Collecting military memorabilia on ebay. Watching movies.

But that row of cars will always live in my heart as the example of what it means to be a good man.

My father loves his wife. He loves his family. His knuckles have healed. And the cars have gone.

And he is still my hero.

My dad is a husband, a fighter, a survivor, a mountain man, a war hero, a father and grandfather to dozens who didn't have one of their own, a firefighter, a medic, a collector, a wicked good shot, a teacher, and a friend.

He is also a mechanic.

And he is a good man.

Michael Parish Sep 2013

enjoying the unicorn bar and grill.

Michael Parish Sep 2013

enjoying the unicorn bar and grill.

The bartender a europa server leaves me a shot of liquid propane.
He moves past every silver dollar forgetting about the meaning
of whskey and bull dogs.
I watch cody a young university of washington student sneek In a  can of raineer beer (if he really  goes there) ill never ask him.
             This is how lastcall always takes place:  a drunken masqerader our friend johnny
Drops his wallet and kills a shot of jager.  ( are we drunk enouph yet)
I order a taco and gain three hundread pounds tonight.
Master of the pitchers.  He still dreams of being a physical thearpist ( he failed trying to take over for Dyrile). His new tall order of a job makes my anticipated buzz weaker.
Im tired of these long dresses opening up and spilling all over the dance floor ( the dj warned her not to)
Our ladies still mention bach.  Inside of her purse hides a mystery knovel.
Tueday means a victory at home.  Every player utters pride of being a regular.
We sink the black eight ball knowing the bouncer gets in the way of ourdrunk enemies  ( a red head)
He charges like arhino.  Hes a animal without areason to ****.  But the bouncer prevents his six year jail sentence from ever happening.  Bexause were all forgiven like helpless bar rags trying to dry out before the mold and mildew
contaminate our ******* stories.  We all speak easily after the brooklyn dodgers turn every blue and white hat around the five head.

He wont show us how the airforce cut his hair.  Every one of his is angry patrons drink until the switch flickers the message ( crawl home bfore the cops fish with dynamite) in the ruston pqarking lot. (Searching for fake DW'S)  each of themshine a britemaglite until the last car disapears still swerving like a skunk ptetending to hide in the storm gutters.

Waverly Jan 2012

The disappeared.

Waverly Jan 2012

The disappeared.

Just because they have disappeared
does not mean that
i'm clutter-free.

It's a cluster-free, a clusterfuck of ******* insanity.

My uncle left right after
my Grampa's funeral,
split like a chicken's *****,
"he's in the airforce
or some other human-processing factory,"
Ma would say to me.

My aunt mable,
dipped out
dripped out two kids
then split
like a pillsbury biscuit.

My aunt pat's mom,
left Aunt pat on Aunt FLo's doorstep,
in the sole of her instep,
stepped out on a kid
and a husband
with a left shoe,
the right one
was left behind.

My pops
was forced out,
I saw him drag Ma
through the halls,
saw him whip her face in
with the brass-end
of a leather belt,
everybody's face was leathery
when the cops came in.

There is a litany of disappearing faces
in my family picture, a litany
of the disappeared
who reappear
over thanksgiving and christmas dinners,
when we wax nostalgiac
or hurt
over turkey,
gravy,
and biscuits.

Over love
and how many are missing.

Chris Slade Jul 2019

Near Misses... mostly in the 60s

Chris Slade Jul 2019

Near Misses... mostly in the 60s

Ahh the 60s! How well I remember it…as a lad.
It’s a bit like the kids saying…“What did you do in the war then dad?”
And I HAVE been asked a time or two… “You were a teenager in the sixties...
What was it like?…” Well it was mixed… some bits good (brilliant in fact) and a few, bad.

I’d call my experiences near misses…!

At 13 I lived in Handsworth Wood (that’s Brum) went to the same youth club as Steve Winwood…
He… gangly, wearing shorts, wowed the girls in the gym as a keyboard player.
Spencer Davis, Traffic, Blind Faith,  Ginger Baker’s Airforce, Solo… A stellar career !
Me? At 15 our family moved south to Bognor…  ******…Bognor!

Actually that’s not fair - It’s not as bad as it might sound…

I peeled spuds at Butlin’s for excitable holiday hordes…
I cleared tables for Chess’ World Championships too - with Tim Rice…he got good with words…
“Doesn’t seem a minute since the Tyrolean Bar had the chess boards in it - that’s how it goes!
One of us got a job as a sales rep, the other a seat in the Lords!

See what I mean?.. Another near miss!

I went in for a talent show in a marquee near the pier
won 5 quid - bought a new pair of Beatle boots… and some keen mod gear.
Joined an R&B band and we gigged for a few years…even London… (well Kingston actually!).
Moved on to art college where things got hairy… ***, drugs and rock & roll - scary!

That might have been what I now call Brian’s Jamaican Woodbines!

A new band, a true blues band, made a real mark - without me! -
an offer came in - and it didn’t sound like the best future to me.
So I left, Chalky joined - they flew, I didn’t. Martin Q wrote Maggie May.
guess maybe I should’ve stayed… Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Their reputation stood the test of time,
toured & played alongside the best, Freddie King, Jeff Beck, AC/DC, Led Zep.
I got my job as the rep! They toured and so did I. So, we all went on the road!
Imagine how sick I felt! Shall we say - a slight lack of zest! Yep!

I’ll just share this with you…

So, I’m standing at the bus stop in Muswell Hill, first day of work - slow traffic passing by, up the hill.
Barry, the manager, pulls up in a dandy sports car… lights at red. “Hi Man! Where to? Get in!
“Starting a new job today - off to pick up my company car”… (I didn’t know that was true)… How about you?”
“Meeting the guys at Gatwick. This week we’re doing Amsterdam, Hamburg and Berlin too! They did well, it's true, but…maybe at a cost... Loves, minds and a few lives lost!

But this is where I usually say “**** it, I should've given it a go!”

But I said “Oh, well done that’s brilliant! I wish you well. Really well!
Anyway after a year or so another band came along and I said what the hell!
But it wasn’t the same… Different game… maybe I’d already had my chance at 15 minutes of fame.
Well, Chris Blackwell, the Island boss, said “no boys… passé… in fact a bit lame”
This is what’s happening now...and he faded up Lindisfarne. Said "now THIS is fame"!

"Meet me on the corner as the sun is going down and I’ll be there".

I’ll keep it short…Now don’t get me wrong… It’s just part of the story and I’ve had a great life.
Two great kids - 7 grandkids and an adorable, adoring wife.
(she might just read this!).
A successful career… an interesting unfolding retirement - and, well - I’m here…
and, when I look at others - it’s all been without much strife, I’m well set.
The fact is there’s so much to do… so little time…
There’s this poetry lark, portrait painting,  learning the guitar, house renovation - two at once in fact - AND anyway -  I haven’t finished yet!

Musing over the fact that I've had bundles of 'near misses'... lived in a house once built and owned by Isambard Kingdom Brunel... Adam Faith lodged with us when I was 12 and then, later, at 18 when I was at Art College with Leo Sayer... Adam picked him up as his manager... And so it goes... What's next?

Michael Parish Sep 2013

Untitled

Michael Parish Sep 2013

Untitled

The bartender a europa server leaves me a shot of liquid propane.
He moves past every silver dollar forgetting about the meaning
of whskey and bull dogs.
I watch cody a young university of washington student sneek In a  can of raineer beer (if he really  goes there) ill never ask him.
             This is how lastcall always takes place:  a drunken masqerader our friend johnny
Drops his wallet and kills a shot of jager.  ( are we drunk enouph yet)
I order a taco and gain three hundread pounds tonight.
Master of the pitchers.  He still dreams of being a physical thearpist ( he failed trying to take over for Dyrile). His new tall order of a job makes my anticipated buzz weaker.
Im tired of these long dresses opening up and spilling all over the dance floor ( the dj warned her not to)
Our ladies still mention bach.  Inside of her purse hides a mystery knovel.
Tueday means a victory at home.  Every player utters pride of being a regular.
We sink the black eight ball knowing the bouncer gets in the way of ourdrunk enemies  ( a red head)
He charges like arhino.  Hes a animal without areason to ****.  But the bouncer prevents his six year jail sentence from ever happening.  Bexause were all forgiven like helpless bar rags trying to dry out before the mold and mildew
contaminate our ******* stories.  We all speak easily after the brooklyn dodgers turn every blue and white hat around the five head.

He wont show us how the airforce cut his hair.  Every one of his is angry like drini until the switch flicker themessage ( crawl home bforetheco9s fishwith dynamite) in the ruston pqarking lot.

Robin Carretti Jun 2018

Back*Wing*Butterfly

Robin Carretti Jun 2018

Back*Wing*Butterfly

The Victorian ladies bubbly
Her back-hand-fly Hubby
At the back wing, he had her
high swing voice pls another
try Oh! my he's mouth dry
The aircraft of man
The spell lift oh! ****
Grand slam fascination
Had their private
back room with the singer
Tina Turner the rolling river

Don't be a two-faced wing
Not left in the back feeling sick
On your back burner- Goes-flick

Wing debate became
The revelation who
will back up
your words
We need stronger wings
of communication

Recount music reverberation
Catches my butterfly
Butterfly tip nails
Say goodbye to the messenger
The back Man Voyager
The trip candlelight lover
Butterwing lobster red-fish
wing hippy hop sing

The tower Trump
She had a collection
of stamps feeling
Larger than butterflies
in her stomach

One of a kind muscle's
No  bumps the best
butterfly kissing

The Tattooed was a fraud
The bash the wings all clashed
Around the bend, they
left one wing not to be fooled
So heartbroken more that
meets two wings
to be eye spoken

Life is complicated
Butterfly Malabar
Your eyes cried every
night in the daylights
I never stop to
wing him book-nights

How she phoned
I saw his light starry-bright
The North Star
The banded Native
New Yorker Hub

The gift of gab
All wings of disorder
Rehab more lovers
What wings to order
She's Fragile heart
He's fly by night so
domineer
Buttercream cake was
the best year
Every emotion high-gear
Bewildered by wing's
Wrong time to be
Glancy with her sigh
Always high in life

Not to be the burden
But why such big
production
The backyard mansion
But down to earth
butterfly takes flighty
fashion

The Lotto money rolling
But I  stay flying__
Butterfly bedtime
The sticker Honey
lullaby Airforce

Army-green but her
honey eyes bitter-fly
course
The back of her
butterfly dress
He was impressed
At her best not to
be married

The Cosmo
Morpho one
Zebra longwing needed
a short circuit to pursue
her  long wing___*
engagement
Ms. Chicken
Got burned so many wings'
What an embarrassment
Sapho longwing Sax

Milestones away Mexico
hot humid  outwinged
Maybe the print was forged
But Sage flower colorful warm
cocoa browns so dazed
Kachi Polo suits
She is wearing the butterfly
pin she was backed away

The Bed-put up his front
So tucked in
He had an extra wing
The trousers melody
Madame Butterfly was in
What a blessing of the sing
They were eating like
babies butterfly flounder

Wing talk became flighty
inflictions without
her medication
On her butterfly tablet
Such lucidity of visions
Made quite the
Butterfly reactions

Like the Aphrodite Queen
with Greater love diction

Syiphina Glasswinged
butterflies names
Try the eighty-eights
Of courageous wings
of fame play eights
one summer he screams

He came to see her in four
love generations
In his sunshine
Floridian hummer
Not the ****** birds
In the norm Palm trees
Met the butterfly storm

Ceylon Rose endangered
The Habitat off
With their hats

With her Man and her
butterfly hat she waves
and asks to sit in another
lower back sting
She just hears his
voice and sings

This is my butterfly I hope something flies your way, not just any day every day brings your mind to a different flight. Not just one night or if your in the office in the back wing that's OK we all have wings to go different ways

#spiritual #butterfliesromanceback #wing #mystery #suspense

Tatiana Jan 2013

A Picture

Tatiana Jan 2013

A Picture

I saw a picture today,
of a face I recognized,
but couldn't put a name to.
It was a picture of a man,
standing next to my father,
this man was old,
his face had countless wrinkles,
and deep laugh lines,
his eyes were grey blue,
a sparkling grey blue,
full of wisdom,
and happiness.
My dads eyes matched his.
Their faces had the same shape,
and their built was the
same,
everything about them,
was the same,
except one was old,
and one was young.
And then I saw the old man's
hat,
the hat was from
being in the airforce,
and then I realized,
why their eyes were the same color,
I looked in the mirror,
and my eyes,
were grey blue,
I looked at the hat,
and ran to my closet,
I pulled out the hat,
so old,
and worn down,
with age.
I stared at it,
and my heart tore in two,
I can't believe I forgot,
it was you Grandpa,
it was you,
in the picture,
and I didn't realize it was you.
It's been so long since you passed,
but every time I think of you,
its like the wound opens up,
again,
and my tears,
are the blood,
that seeps out,
of the wound,
flowing rapidly,
with no signs of stopping.
Till I feel i'll bleed out,
and die,
and then join you,
but I know you want me,
here,
on earth,
or you would have come for me,
by now.
Oh Grandpa,
why did you have to go?

This time of year especially, is when I always think about the people I love who have passed on.............................. I guess you can say i'm officially unblocked now, but I never want to have writers block for even the shortest amount of time, it makes me so frustrated beyond belief. I don't know what i'm talking about anymore..............(My eyes have a tendency to change color, they are naturally a hazel that leans towards blue, but depending on what I wear some days, my eyes can be bright blue, grey blue, hazel, or green blue.)

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