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bahulakaji Sep 2020
When I was a kid,

I wanted to be a pilot.

I wanted to fly all kinds of planes

Fast plane, big plane, small plane,

I also wanted to fly the jets, and the HUGE cargo planes,

and then the gliders, hot air balloons, from the classic indian the pushpak vimaan to those double winged old airplanes, as seen on encyclopedias !

And ahh..

The fighter jets too

but a fighter jet would not have seats for a family picnic,

so may be I’d fly the passenger jets.

A Boeing 777 perhaps-

but all of this, my air plane fanaticism, was because I had a special place that I wanted to fly.

In one of my dad’s many stories, he once told me about a special plane.

It was called Moment 001- The first and the last of it’s kind.

Now, Moment 001 was the best kind of plane,

It was colored like the rain, it was faster than the human brain

It was lighter than a car, and it’s speed – INSANE !

So fast that not even time could catch up,

Moment 001 was a time machine.

But with wings and blinks and pretty little things.

A machine that goes so fast it can escape the grip of time.

When I was a kid, I could not wait to grow up !

And it was confusing,

The plant that I planted in grade 3 by the time I was in grade 4

was taller than me, and I would be the same.

I wanted to grow older faster,

in order to fly airplanes

and may be- just may be

get my hands on Moment 001.

 

And then it happened,

slowly, but it happened.

Growing up I realized time is a funny thing.

You can’t turn the clock arms around and go back to yesterday,

and then realizing that time and space are both quantities,

and then again some theoretical physicist say-

that time is not really timeless.

 

Basically,

We humans have not figured time out.

No time machines !

Moment 001 was an airplanes that did not exist.

But where science failed me, art found me.

Airplanes were replaced by poetry,

and I was fascinated by words.

I wanted to fly words.

All kinds of words,

Strong words, Science words,

some right words, some wrong words,

used up words, and some left over words,

rap words and pop words-

And it turns out,

They have invented time machine in poetry

A long long time ago

And no, I did not grow up to be a pilot,

but that does not stop me from flying-

my paper planes.
Steven Boston Jun 2020
I care not for the boxed city behind the walls
Look to the white sheeted hills where I stand
In all my emerald glory ready to release my fiery terror upon the ones who stupidly scorned

Ostrasised for my peculiarity

'Fire breathing' they shouted
'Witch' they chanted

What do they know of being different..
Nothing

My cold wet hand holds my burning-orb
Fate will release its hand on this dark dark night

Sheep to the slaughter
Sheep to the slaughter
Fantasy piece
Donna Jun 2020
There was a jelly
called Jeff Jelly Belly Bel
He lived in a hole

at the bottom of
an old oak tree! Nobody
knew he existed!

Except the soil
and the occasional drops
of rain who seemed to

bounce off Jeff Jelly
Belly Bel! He wore sandals made
from butterfly wings!

He wobbled here and
there through the soil keeping
an eye on tree roots!

He’d make sure the roots
we’re getting enough rain and
if they weren’t then Jeff

Jelly Belly Bel
let the raindrops bounce off his
belly onto the

roots so the trees could
continue to shine brightly
especially in

the spring and summer
months! See Jeff Jelly Belly
Bel was a special

kind of jelly! He
looked after the tree roots and
he was a happy

old jelly who loved
his home at the bottom of
an old oak tree!

He had a clock made
of cupcakes and a kettle
to make a nice cup

of earthy tea! A
bowl made from caterpillar
skin and a spoon from

a broken piece of
lightening that landed right
near his home! What he

didn’t know is the
tree roots were making him a
special dinner to

say thank you for his
wonderful love and support
over the many years

of dedication
to caring and looking after
all the earths tree roots

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲
But that’s another story about Jeff jelly belly bel dinner , I doubt I write a follow up tbh just a spur of the moment fun bizarre happy creative piece of poetry and of course it’s fictional **
Diya Apr 2020
Out of nowhere....
You stole my heart.
Broke it.
And you disappeared in the thin air.

I am here....
Failing to erase those memories.
And
Still trying to fix the "thing" you broke!
It's truly a fictional write...I watched a movie just an hour ago and it inspired me to write this poem.

Hope you guys are safe and healthy!
Janice Feb 2020
I took a hit to fly away that day
I should of known the high wont last
Because when the crash came
Like a fast train
The dripping rain stopped
The flashing lights drined
And i passed out for 3 whole days
In a puddle of freezing rain
That was my skin
That was my brain

I woke up in a full body shake
Need another hit just to stay awake
To speed me up to keep me sane
Maybe ill at least remember my name
Or maybe this is all a game

And thats a thought
My brain can't shake
My whole life is
An endless earthquake
All my emotions are becoming fake
The high is the only taste i take
Driving me to keep up the pace

I need more to get the same effect
My mind hurts, i need a rest
Gotta stay high to keep at my best
With the crash comes
The crippling distress
Of all my thoughts
Rushing and pressed
Into my consciousness
Im out of breath
Everytime i do this
Im nearing my death
Janice Feb 2020
A peaceful, calm, and quiet place
A respite from, this crazy haze
Silent whispers - from afar
Shes too drifted to hear them call
Out to her, from reality
Her comatose tranquility
Surrounds her mind,
In foggy clouds
Protects her from her memories
She doesn't need to understand
Nor realize what is happening
As she slowly drifts, off to sleep
Never to come back
To me.
Janice Feb 2020
It was the night she was murdered

The shadows clung tight to the walls

Whispering of evens that left them appalled

Behind the corner the little girl stalls

Knife in her hand makes her feel tall

Taller than mom who lies on the floor

Pools of her blood the carpet absorbs

Mom causing pain has long been ignored

The little girls terrors

Forever no more
crybaby Jan 2020
I ponder on the fictional love
that splatters on the television
as my tears spill because I will never
experience that love
I am not in a movie
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