Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Erian Rose Apr 2020
his fingers fidgeted with the stars
comets flying like racing cars
when he glanced above, all he hoped
to sing a lullaby to the one
he loves the most
nick armbrister Apr 2020
The girl was very nice
She had a little daughter
And was married

But that was fine
She was open minded
And liked other guys

And some gals too
I knew she liked me
No introductions were needed

We got together inside the hangars
By the sleeping planes
We did a different type of sleeping

Taking our time for it mattered
Our love was there without words
Leaving only memories known to us

I’ll keep her name secret
And just exactly what we did
But know this and know it well

She made my journey easier
For if I never came back
At least she would remember me

And always love me
Even if she belonged to another
He did not even figure

In what we did or were
We kissed before I climbed the ladder
Of my Lockheed P-38 Lightning

She was there to see me off
When I arrived in theatre
I’d name my plane after her

If I died in foreign skies
I now had a real reason
Other than for ‘freedom’...
from the forthcoming anti war book

out soon

new book by Nick Armbrister and Andy N
called Europa IV – The Long Night Goodbye
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Southern Icarus
by Michael R. Burch

Windborne, lover of heights,
unspooled from the truck’s wildly lurching embrace
you climb, skittish kite ...

What do you know of the world’s despair,
gliding in vast solitariness there
so that all that remains is to
                                              fall?

Only a little longer the wind invests its sighs;
you stall
spread-eagled as the canvas snaps

and ***** its white rebellious wings,
and all
the houses watch with baffled eyes.

Originally published by Poetry Porch. Keywords/Tags: Icarus, flight, flying, hang-gliding, kite, glider, wind, canvas, South, southern, truck, unspooled



Note: The following poem unites Icarus with Tom O'Bedlam in a final, magical quest ...

Finally to Burn
(the Fall and Resurrection of Icarus)
by Michael R. Burch

I.
Athena takes me
sometimes by the hand

and we go levitating
through strange Dreamlands

where Apollo sleeps
in his dark forgetting

and Passion seems
like a wise bloodletting

and all I remember
—upon awaking—

is: to Love sometimes
is like forsaking

one’s Being—to glide
heroically beyond thought,

forsaking the here
for the There and the Not.

II.
O, finally to Burn,
gravity beyond escaping!

To plummet is Bliss
when the blisters breaking

rain down red scabs
on the earth’s mudpuddle...

Feathers and wax
and the watchers huddle...

Flocculent sheep,
O, and innocent lambs!

I will rock me to sleep
on the waves’ iambs.

III.
To Sleep, that is Bliss
in Love’s recursive Dream,

for the Night has Wings
pallid as moonbeams—

they will flit me to Life,
like a huge-eyed Phoenix

fluttering off
to quarry the Sphinx.

IV.
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,

Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.

Quixotic, I seek Love
amid the tarnished

rusted-out steel
when to live is varnish.

To Dream—that’s the thing!
Aye, that Genie I’ll rub,

soak by the candle,
aflame in the tub.

V.
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,

Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.

Somewhither, somewhither
aglitter and strange,

we must moult off all knowledge
or perish caged.

VI.
I am reconciled to Life
somewhere beyond thought—

I’ll Live in the There,
I’ll Dream of the Naught.

Methinks it no journey;
to tarry’s a waste,

so fatten the oxen;
make a nice baste.

I’m coming, Fool Tom,
we have Somewhere to Go,

though we injure noone,
ourselves wildaglow.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Free Fall to Liftoff
by Michael R. Burch

for my father, Paul Ray Burch, Jr.

I see the longing for departure gleam
in his still-keen eye,
                                   and I understand his desire
to test this last wind, like late November leaves
with nothing left to cling to ...



The following poems about free-falling were written with Tom Petty's song "Free-Fallin'" in mind...



Free Fall (I)
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

These cloudless nights, the sky becomes a wheel
where suns revolve around an axle star ...
Look there, and choose. Decide which moon is yours.
Sink Lethe-ward, held only by a heel.

Advantage. Disadvantage. Who can tell?
To see is not to know, but you can feel
the tug sometimes—the gravity, the shell
as lustrous as damp pearl. You sink, you reel

toward some draining revelation. Air—
too thin to grasp, to breathe. Such pressure. Gasp.
The stars invert, electric, everywhere.
And so we fall in spirals through night’s fissure—

two beings—pale, intent to fall forever
around each other—fumbling at love’s tether ...
now separate, now distant, now together.



Free Fall (II)
by Michael R. Burch

after Tom Petty

I have no earthly remembrance of you, as if
we were never of earth, but merely white clouds adrift,
swirling together through Himalayan altitudes—
no more man and woman than exhaled breath—unable to fall
back to solid existence, despite the air’s sparseness: all
our being borne up, because of our lightness,
toward the sun’s unendurable brightness . . .

But since I touched you, fire consumes each wing!

We who are unable to fly, stall
contemplating disaster. Despair like an anchor, like an iron ball,
heavier than ballast, sinks on its thick-looped chain
toward the earth, and soon thereafter will be sufficient pain
to recall existence, to make the coming darkness everlasting.

Keywords/Tags: autumn, leaves, cling, clinging, wind, death, flight, fly, flying, transport, free fall, liftoff, departure, bare, barren, leafless, skeletal
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Flight
by Michael R. Burch

Eagle, raven, blackbird, crow . . .
What you are I do not know.
Where you go I do not care.
I’m unconcerned whose meal you bear.
But as you mount the sun-splashed sky,
I only wish that I could fly.
I only wish that I could fly.

Robin, hawk or whippoorwill . . .
Should men care if you hunger still?
I do not wish to see your home.
I do not wonder where you roam.
But as you scale the sky's bright stairs,
I only wish that I were there.
I only wish that I were there.

Sparrow, lark or chickadee . . .
Your markings I disdain to see.
Where you fly concerns me not.
I scarcely give your flight a thought.
But as you wheel and arc and dive,
I, too, would feel so much alive.
I, too, would feel so much alive.

I don’t remember exactly when this poem was written. I believe it was around 1974-1975, which would have made me 16 or 17 at the time. I do remember not being happy with the original version of the poem, and I revised it more than once over the years, including recently at age 61! The original poem was influenced by William Cullen Bryant’s “To a Waterfowl.” Keywords: flight, flying, bird, wheel, arc, dive, nest, scale, eagle, raven, blackbird, crow, robin, hawk, whippoorwill,  sparrow, lark, chickadee
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Learning to Fly
by Michael R. Burch

We are learning to fly
every day . . .

learning to fly—
away, away . . .

O, love is not in the ephemeral flight,
but love, Love! is our destination—

graced land of eternal sunrise, radiant beyond night!
Let us bear one another up in our vast migration.

Published by The Book of Hope and Dreams (anthology). Keywords/Tags: learn, learning, fly, flying, flight, destination, migration, destination, heaven, love, eternity, eternal sunrise
Mark Toney Mar 2020
Fear
of
flying—
facing fear
he boarded the plane
which some minutes after takeoff
violently shook and then plummeted toward earth—
him being sad, not over his impending death, but having just won the lottery



© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
2/29/2020 - Poetry form: Fibonacci - The number of syllables in each line must equal the sum of the syllables in the two previous lines resulting in  0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21... which is the fibonacci sequence.  The last line of 21 syllables in this poem appears as more than one line because of Hellopoetry's space restrictions and also on mobile devices and smaller screens.  Ah, the Romanesque broccoli spirals of the fibonacci sequence! - © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2020
Go up
Keep going

Never stop flying til reaching the sun
And then get burnt to a crisp I guess haha
Tiana Feb 2020
Likings, prefences and goals may change
But it is the dream
that always remains;

The dream
where I see myself flying high,
Where the stars are shining and moonlight brightening
the amazing night sky;

The dream
where I see myself walk in style,
Wearing the uniform I've been yearning to earn
since juvenile;
About my dream of becoming an aviator
Next page