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nick armbrister Dec 2021
Shiden-Kai
After the battle
Fishing the plane
From the water
No fighter pilot
Where is he?
Gone far away
Where warriors go
Shiden-Kai pilot
One of six
Lost that day
B-Sans or Hellcats
All the same
Way back '45
Old fading times
Not even memories
Don't forget them
Of all sides
Silence ...
B Morgan Talbot Sep 2021
When they came down from their disk
With their blinding lights
And their alloy ramps
It quickly became obvious
Unexpectedly, in our hubris,
That they wished only to
Gas up,
Take some pictures of squirrels
And stretch their limbs
Before setting out toward a finer frontier.
Did you hear something about an intergalactic highway being built?
Allesha Eman Jul 2021
The winds from where you grew up
Strike conversations at midnight
Your thoughts, now paper planes
Take off into memory lanes
And your feet, aching soles
Search for branches, and petals
That remind you of home
The taste of sweet dates still dancing on your tongue
Sweet syrup stretches its limbs
Through your nose
Sensations of a past soaked in white noise
When did you leave it behind?
And you think back to the time
When you walked with your naïve self
Too young to comprehend
Back onto a boat
In those dreams that never escape you
Called memories
planes
planes
planes
rows and rows
of planes
never again to fly
up in the sky's terrains

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

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

planes
planes
planes
rows and rows
of planes
lie idle within their
grounded lanes
I've used the poetic device of repetition in the piece.
nmo Feb 2021
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
low-everything
airplanes.
Man Jan 2021
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
FECKING PARANOIA!!!
from Side of the Hill – Varied Poems...  Nick Armbrister
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