"airliner" poems
An ode seems appropriate
To the classical style
Of the columns and the domes
Above the green court.
Many things have adorned that dome:
Squad car, fire truck, droid, and phone
But today, viewed in a mind's eye—sunlight.
But as were that phone booth still apparent
From afar it now calls, and now I shall answer.
Over the river, and through the urban jungle,
Through the sky, 400 miles, as the airliner flies
But worth every inch, rod, meter or smoot.
It beckons to the mind and to the heart;
It beckons to the soul of a scholar.
Were I less knowing I might think not
That light fell from above onto that dome.
But rather, that the hemisphere
Gave forth the blazing light
ebullience of photons, amidst
Torrents of knowledge.
Its hallowed halls, numbered precisely,
Soon no longer a forbidden temple shall be
Instead, I shall tread there, such as I am
Learn from efforts I effect and others I see
O Halls, I shall greet thee, O Tunnels in winter
Traverse and find warmth to keep body to task
For knowledge, always, comes with a high price
In joules, dollars, cents, days and hours of rest
Long nights turn to dawns, nose to the grindstone
Maybe just one more tool; okay, maybe another.
But brother meets brother, and sister meets sister
On both sides of the river, and the work gets done.
Whether Greek or not, there is community here
A problem, or a set of them, is always seen through.
As the sun now rises, a new day sets in. In a few
hours of my life I will rise to these challenges.
With a chirping, I shall cross the paths that I come to,
Enter the halls .. and my journey shall begin.
~ D. B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
I watch and
On a star light night
For a falling Star
As a confirmation
That an ambition
Will prove to be positive
If I see one
My confidence
Is improved
Yet I still know it is a wish
That I make as it falls
Not an action
After all it
Could be space junk falling
Or the fragments’ of a jet airliner shot down
Kind takes the fun right out of it
Wishing on
A shooting star
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
a day
with contrasts faded
hazy smoke from
distant forest burnings
skylight diffused..
traffic at rushhour
a monotonous din..
such muffled appearances
invited a more
exacting look..
white paint splotches
accidental decorations
to a darkened parkbench
suggests here a distant
supernova explosion..
a motorcycle pistons'
high pitch report
self identification
in the traffic din..
an airliner's orange
contrails laced the
gray cloudless sky..
then a sudden appearance
a haloed quartermoon
light enhancement
with circular glow..
yes contrasts seemed to
speak on this day
bursting the haze...
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
Space Cowboy
He said he was a Miller
but he carried a kow-kow calculator
see him on the street
he'd say hey I'll catch you later
from children of the future
a 10 gallon Stetson on his head
he could fly like an eagle
or cruise his Mercury blues instead
they say he took the money and ran
rumor was Junior saw it happen
yeah he and ***** Mae
boy did he need a good ***** slappin'
years later he was seen in swingtown
a joker jumpin' for jungle love
lost his golden key to the highway
hoping to find wild mountain honey above
c'mon and dance make some romance
bump bump bump on the steppin' stone
he left again on a big jet airliner
and never did answer his telephone
Gomer LePoet ....
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 10:30 PM UTC
“Mrs. Tubb, prepare my raincoat,” he said, “I’m going under the carpet.”
His ears were steaming.
“I’ll be waiting by the hanged stag,” he said. “If it gets to six and I'm still not home, put tobacco in the telephone.”
Down there, at the foot of the stairs, Mrs Tubb’s tears fell to the flattened backwards.
In the middle of the night, whilst she was sleeping,
And without her permission,
He had changed her name to Margot St. Vincent.
“Take off that murderer’s moustache and stretch out on the infamous Chelsea Blackmail Floor.
Ask the biggest bugs to dance,
You may never get another chance.”
The quietly handsome and magnificent Millicent Milligan was feeling rather ill again.
She had been dreaming of the brittle marigolds of Saint Petersburg.
She had been dreaming of pine cones and boiling marmalade.
Her home had fallen into a hole.
It was on the evening news,
But by the following morning they had lost interest,
A mountain had struck a commercial airliner and so no one was much impressed by her Home in Hole Hell.
355 were dead,
And possibly a well known racehorse,
And a corpse in transit who, of course, was already dead, but still, it was vexing for the family.
They found a priest in a poplar tree,
And the head of a hand model at the back of a cave.
(The hands were still intact and were couriered to their agent in a special flask).
Half in, half out of her delicious stockings
Wendice Titian cuts out scissor clippings of her
Sinister yellow sister.
Overnight the years twist.
Edgar Snooker has heard he is to play Hitler's dog on the silver screen.
Edgar Snooker is not a dog.
And the screen was never silver.
And besides, it is not true.
Someone is out to destabilise him.
As posh, brainwashed sausages consult
The Punchline Advisor of Dunkirk,
As the Lord is seen on all fours on His moon
Causing daily electrical police misfortune,
As the masses embark on the clamorous, scattered and impossible journey to disappointed purity,
As her money is without temperament,
As the self-conscious guilt daughter unbuttons her plush helmet,
So the richly magnetised stars are winding down.
As candles whisper in the middle of the road,
As Margot St. Vincent revolves the nickel tap
Of the gas powered knitting plate,
So Father Flynn is inconsolable.
He found a photograph of ****** Bob on top of his wife’s hat.
She denied everything,
Including that she was there at all.
Father Flynn fell for it.
That's faith for you.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
I absolutely hate planes
but I love airports.
It’s because I hate sloshing stomachs,
empty eyes, and broken bones
but I love freshly cut sunflowers,
kneading bread, and healed paper cuts.
No, I am not okay
because I’m a bush airliner
and you are an entire airport;
I am constantly failing to make myself
into something lovely,
just a landing pad.
I can’t make myself into a home
or even find a place to land
because the harder
I try, the higher I fly, and believe me when I say
I do not like
to fly.
I only want to land
somewhere new
with you. I want to be loved,
I do, I promise, and I promise
that I don’t break promises
like planes break bones.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
fuelled summer from my balcony
fumes and the deep night in heat
wilming frequency ridden under a flight path
the red and green eyes of the airliner
stare us down whither
descending the smokey stair
forest fires out west
my eyes are wiltered against
aggressive peppery air ***** creosote vapours
the view from my balcony
neighbours walk dogs
people earn their way back from the pubs
and restaurants and concerts
and some greatly received comedy show
and there’s the streetlight
; orange wash
this season
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 8:22 PM UTC
"I remember, I remember everything" says quintessential action hero Jason Bourne. Personally I say he could have been better off.
I remember the out of the ordinary, a nonbeliever that I'll ever get enough.
I remember the feeling of take off on a Jet airliner, the happy clench of my hands.
I remember this year seeing some of my favorite bands.
I remember the summers of love, the winters of hate.
I remeber having far too much on my plate (last week, yesterday, this second).
I remember also the comforts of an average day.
I remember the listeneing to my record player play.
I remember the warmth of a fire on a chilly night.
I remember being okay with feeling just alright.
I remember driving around this holey town.
I remember just hanging around.
I remember the basements where so little happened so much of the time.
I remember all the friends that I could call mine.
I remember many things and yet so little.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
*Big Delta airliner racing overhead , I pray all her
occupants have safe travel this gorgeous Spring day
A passenger from Atlanta scoring a big business deal ,
an elder , excited Grandma on the way to see kids in
Bakersfield
Young soldiers headed home for much needed leave ,
a blues picker leaving Nashville bound for New Orleans
Students headed back to Texas Tech , Notre Dame and
Villanova
Newlyweds on their honeymoon to San Diego , an Engineer with a meeting in Guadalajara , a family reunion in Texarkana* ...
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Failing to understand
why our nation is great,
an opportunity was sought
by souls cowardly lying in wait.
Focused on pure evil
as they have continually done,
an unholy attack was unleashed
on a day now known as 9-1-1.
Via the destruction
of New York's "Twin Towers"
the enemy crushed a symbol
of U.S. monetary power.
Beyond the resources to rebuild,
our country operates from a wealthy mindset;
so we can easily overcome
loss of life and some airliner jets.
We have forgiven peoples and nations;
we have helped the World without regret.
Justice will be eventually extracted
for a date guaranteed that we'll never forget.
Author Notes:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 11:17 AM UTC
it is silent in the house, in the wee hours of black morning
no sound affronts my ears but the gentle tap tap tapping
of a few stray rain droplets who have made their escape
falling down
down
down the vault of the heavens
to fulfill their life purpose; like kamikazes
they bravely take the fatal plunge
into the abyss
the sky groans as an airliner cuts through
and I hear a new sound: or am I hearing it at all?
more than audible - it becomes tangible
the steady rising thump from my chest
a wild song of native tribe
pounds on the taut skin inside of me
beating
beating
beat - tap
beating
a cry, no louder than a whisper
is the melancholy melody
an infinitesimal sliver, like a keyhole
of rising Golden light
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 1:24 AM UTC
The stars above me
offer no warmth,
they are
of little comfort.
I am in the danger zone,
out on the perimeter,
dug in deep
like an Eskimo
in an ice fortress.
The winds have made my nose run,
frozen snot covers my beard,
my eyes tear constantly,
making it hard
on the night-vision.
Occasionally,
I see streaming jet-lights,
an airliner in the stratosphere,
zipping across the Heavens,
out of harm’s way.
And I think about the cocktails,
the pretty stewardesses
gathered back near the galley,
it makes me warm
& crack a weak-smile.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
The hungry,
the sick
&
tired.
The lost,
battered,
beaten,
&
starved.
The streets sweat themselves clean
again & again
until
there is no
place
for a heart.
The forgotten - to be.
I see
them.
Everywhere.
Their faces
pass me
like an airliner
to a
bus.
Something grand will be crashing
and dwindlng in size
learning how
to live
with different sets
of eyes.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 1:20 AM UTC
i saw an odd ball of light the other day
and thought it must've been an airliner,
but it was a god's ocular
sizing me up
so when it crossed my mind
i took hold of it,
"let him look"
up, at the black overhead
grimacing at me
i shouted
"well, old man? what's the verdict?"
and all the stars shone down
in the tiny cracks, that they cut through the sky
i swear i heard
**** off"
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 7:54 PM UTC
*I'm watching the red lights of an airplane
One of its passengers notice the glow
of a tiny brick house with a man at the window , his thoughts
are training , his creativity sailing , his passion for
midnight poetry waning , his demons complaining
The volume of thought fading
It's really no different from all the other homes
All the other Jills and Johns , the would-be vagabonds
The starving music minstrels , we're just tag-alongs ,
trying to decipher right from wrong , standing in
the corporate soup line for our bowl to be filled
Mouths agape like baby birds , a spool of film repeating
act one of a movie , some nerd gets the girl , the milkmaid
becomes queen , a Hollywood hunk saves the world
Fly on jet airliner , may your occupants find life's pearl
Clarity in the daily whirl , the worm in the bottom of the Tequila bottle
Send them safely to their families full throttle* ...
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 12:53 AM UTC
The News Bizz
Turn on the news what do you watch?
Buy a newspaper what do you read?
Browse an online news site to see what?
Download the local news app it says?
No matter when or where you get your news
No matter the time of day or location
On the toilet or in an airliner or in a bar
The main reason is why it happened
And why you read it
Do you want the latest updates in Asia?
The latest political happenings in Europe?
Military adventures in the Middle East?
All of this news is fake and made up
The ruling elite chose what happens
And the when and the why and make it
This is your news made by them
To keep us all under control
To scare and subjugate us
What can we do except wake up?
And then are we the news?
Nothing but pawns on a board
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 9:34 PM UTC
Commercial jet airliner
High in the sky
Boeing seven four seven.
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 2:02 AM UTC
It was merchandise that came alive
Buy me and try me being the stride
Dancing among clothes trying to persuade any shopper
The prices and sales were there own show stopper
But toys also got involved
They also danced among the kids
But some kids were scare and hid
Various toys did catch many kid’s eyes
Through the eyes of a child and the many assortments being a surprise
A jet toy airliner plane with no mention of any name, which will remain
It flew throughout the store overlooking the kids
The plane said, “Look up here and I am flying to all you buy me in preserver”
Come kid persuade Mom to buy as my batteries are already in
If you take me home, you can open the box, and your playing will begin
A Jack in the Box sprang into action
Smiles and laughter on its face being the activation
Suddenly a bubble machine advertised its slogan within the bubbles of “Buy me and become absorbed in fun”
Animation became a shoppers and kids appreciation
However this was definitely the indication
“Animate in coming alive, with the sell and adding a touch of assured in tell”.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Airspace
Four lines between poems
Or is it only three?
This was the question
That the pilot was pondering
While his airliner flew
Into the jagged mountain side
All aboard were killed
The pilot never did
Resolve his query
Was it three or four lines
Between poems?
from New Dawn 2971
Nick Armbrister
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC