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rows and rows
of planes
never again to fly
up in the sky's terrains

rows and rows
of planes
sent to the Mojave Desert's
dry weather vanes

rows and rows
of planes
parked forever out of
the corosive rains

rows and rows
of planes
lie idle within their
grounded lanes
I've used the poetic device of repetition in the piece.
nmo Feb 23
i wonder
how we managed
to convince our hands
not to hold onto each other
when we said goodbye.

now, i'm writing
inside this flying can;
thinking this might be the closest
to a home.

these small seats,
with even smaller legs space.
these funny-shaped windows,
where all you can see are
white clouds,
and sporadically
some lights.
tiny houses,
with even tinier people.

and us,
tiny giants,
reading overpriced perfume catalogs,
listening to mispronounced english,
using disposable low-fidelity headphones,
inside low-light low-love low-cost
Man Jan 30
i have atom bomb dreams
from the desert
mushroom clouds billowing
the shockwave blow past cacti
and down the dirt road i'm on
from the cockpit of a b-29
leveling the ground below
already comprised of craters
as we pummel the earth
we become a might to match the gods
"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendour of the mighty one” Oppenheimer
John McCafferty Jul 2020
With wearied ways the air looks grey
It's colour stains surrounding planes
Heavy clouds weigh eyelids down
Condensed to rest as momentum slows
Mellow tones and energy spent
Low on conversation goals
All but empty sentiments
No plans today, worn out to play
Sleep instead behinds your gaze
Dreaming to regenerate
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Anastasia Apr 2020
my head was in the clouds
but now i'm on the ground
i keep thinking about the sky
but i can't go back now
remember what it was like
dancing upon the air
wind in my soul
cotton in my hair
i miss the hum
of distant planes
i used to be free
now i'm weighed down by chains
my head was in the clouds
but now i'm on the ground
i fell from the sky
and lost all i found
nick armbrister Dec 2019
Soviets are like mosquitoes
Always there in the environment
There’s no escape from them
They get in your head

So they rule you remorsessly
By power of paranoia
A bite is a bullet
An infection is a bomb

A disease is a nuclear blast
Mosquitoes are Russians
Russians are mosquitoes
Waiting to be eradicated

By a superior power
Always ready for war
Endless circle of deceit
Mosquito flight round you

Looking for an opening
To attack you
While you sleep
The Russian way

Keep you off guard
Then get you
But not if we strike
And drain their pond

Spray them with insecticide
So they never breed again
No more Novichok
Or nukes or bio weapons

Finally we are safe
Except from our own
from Side of the Hill – Varied Poems...  Nick Armbrister
Megan Hammer Nov 2019
Champaign and snow, the Cranberries song was on
It was warm sleeping in the bathtub
And I can still hear his hum sending me off
Picking me up, moving me to the bed

How the morning came and I heard the small planes fly on
Beginning to cry because it's time

To turn off the Cranberries,
To go back out into the cold
To hum an old song and send you off

The plane flies above the hotel
So I take a long, hot shower
Ken Mears Nov 2019
Technology marches forward,

Never stopping,

Technology marches forward,

Always progressing.

It permeates our homes,

It resides in our pockets,

The big company's own Sherlock Holmes,

Seeing deep within our lockets.

It gets us where,

We want to go,

Through the air,

Or through the traffic flow.

It runs our lives,

Leading us along,

Like bees in hives,

We follow it's rhythmic song.

Technology marches forward,

Not caring for its creators,

Technology marches forward,

As humanities technological dictators.
Oskar Erikson Sep 2019
calling a lost lover
to begin to head on over
this bedroom was only a boarding gate
and this bed your layover.
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