"cessna" poems
The ancient banyan tree is huge, its parallel trunks,
Go across , spiral out, spread branches,
Sheltering birds; doves or eagles, it doesn't bother.
Above that a kite lost mid way on its pleasure flight aimlessly circles.
A grey half moon tries to remain inconspicuous in the day light.
A single engine Cessna sky hawk from Bangalore flying club,
Laboriously crawl across the sky like an overeaten caterpillar.
He remains,
Oblivious of the world around, and its many preoccupations.
Within a craggy nook created by the irregular stem of the banyan,
The old man sits like an idol, totally alien to the world, that is in its Nataraja's dance*
A long, grey, shaggy beard; serene radiant face,
Stunning any one, looking at him with the contentment blooms there, a radiant flower.
His rags for long time has not seen water, its obvious,
A soiled turban around his head is tightly tied, yet he looks regal.
He is silence personified, has no needs, it seems.
He breathes freedom day and night, no dependency on others,
Sounds, discordant and confusing, from the nearby road, fails even to touch him,
The dust wind that circles around, only creates a halo for him.
A plastic bag full of stuff, his worthless belongings, lie by his side, like a severed head.
An old news paper he holds, to shield him from the setting sun's attention.
On the third day I found out, he has friends.
Though there seems no need to speak, words are too precious to waste, isn't it what he implies?
A dark, frail woman driving back her buffalo and its calf after grazing in the fields,
Stops in front of him smiling, he smiles back; for the first time I saw a smile speaking to another.
A silent exchange of feelings, I could experience, even in nature, since then. An awakening he brought.
Every time I watch him, with an open mind, the contentment I see, recites wordless poems
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Years later
muffled like new snowfall
this ash
permeating teeth and skin.
Back then, I was still naive enough to trust
Old Jimmy when he offered to fly me
over the blast zone in his beat-up Cessna
the words Scenic Tours peeling off its purple tail.
His latent appetite would later manifest
on the ride home in his musty Cadillac
the passenger door dented shut
preventing an easy exit.
That day
gray extended
as far as eyes could see
denuded trunks laid to rest
in perfect unison
we flew
for miles and miles
over nothing living
just ash
permeating teeth and skin
fallen matchsticks
and men.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
You leave the apostrophes to someone else, I can't even make it in to 'im', instead I'm writing papers about the Oneida and Jonestown murders.
The television is on, the air purifier
is dying. I can hear the ***** fan belt of my laptop on the fritz or the fizzy bubbles of
The Cranberry Redbull that I'm trying.
I could be a great sport. Ya know, anything you want.
Jump to.
Make the Miso soup, clear off the kitchen table, buy brand new markers with no recent pictures drawn into their nibs.
Throw in comfy pants. I don't know what else I have to offer, a clean bath? Some books? A magazine?
The weather is exciting, we could call get Pneumonia or at least share a drink and catch Hep-C,
Put our children together to catch the gift of Shingles. A motorcycle toy for my Uritis it is better. The roses from the sweater paired with leather, leggings, and a kick *** song. Inside we can talk about his hair cut and going to California. I'm intimidated by you moreover when you tell me you can eat airplanes with only your bare hands. And even if I'm a bore, I still have Streptococcus. So seal and deliver. My cerulean goddess, with the best, thank thank you for the nightmare fever you stole from the words I wrote. And at the end of your book you don't have to cop out and fall along a crippled sky. With crippled words, verbs, and losers. Score cards of different colors. Tunics proud as the walk to the river we voted from Baptism to demon-voter. Stand and deliver, flora and fauna that threatens to eat our home.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
fifteen minutes or so
the pilot lumbers out from the ladies room
she weighs as much as our cessna.
perhaps now she's lighter.
she grunts into the cockpit
and ensures her girth has not switched on or off
any vital instruments.
safety is our number one concern.
i've been more confident in lawnmower engines.
this rumbled like rapture.
i shook, but so did everything else.
we flew like a mallard
over lakes and forest.
we saw a shipwreck that now hosts
families for lunch.
as well as a few baseball fields.
the air was a force.
it asserted it self, to be certain.
i sensed its angst.
it translated thoroughly.
she rambled on
it was her tenth flight today.
i looked behind,
my love was green.
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
my bed became a sanctuary of nothingness. But I fear emptiness. Its close. A paralysis of indecision permeates like frigid winter through drafty walls. I decide to sleep in.
Occasionally turning to see the clock- minutes, hours pile up like ***** dishes.
During broad daylight, the distant noise of a cessna impedes into my room, defining a vast separation. One, maybe two people up there have an interesting life, an important destination. Listening to their flight gives me something to do. When they are gone, I have nothing left but a fingerprint stained glass of water.
By late afternoon, the lost day vaguely disturbs like seeing one shoe on a highway.
Either painful or a waste, nothing good about it.
Finally light dims. A broken clock is right twice in a day, but since I'm the one who stopped, the clock catches up with my uselessness in bed.
The period on the sentence that I have, truly, accomplished nothing.
Darkness justifies my nap. A relief as I can finally end the day with some sleep.
I dream of being infinite, traversing the universe a narrow beam of light. You pass me by a little faster, but turn around so we can create time together, to become here.
I dream of when we camped by a river's waterfall. Half awake my eyes can see the tent filled with soft green light. No light source but bright enough to see by, everything in the tent and you sleeping peacefully. Logic corrects me, says it a New Moon and I shouldn't be able to see anything. My eyes agree and slowly darken, blind to the color of love's aura that I can still feel.
I wake. Pour one bowl of cereal instead of two, remembering when you looked up from breakfast and said, "let’s ride our bikes across the country," just like that. And just like that we did, halfway anyway. 1500 miles was just the beginning. I love the places you take me.
I call you up. "Let's not call them dealbreakers, ok?"
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
**The young woman, plain, was unsmiling behind the control panel,
a ribald passion filled his veins, her mien has to do something,
the airfield was deluged by waves of grief, among them
was those robust women, he tried to forget but couldn't
who may defeat the purpose, if he takes a second look.
She gave her word to fly the single engine airplane
"Don't fear darling, i am an aerobatics specialist
if need arises i wouldn't hesitate to crash land,
take care of your hurt, bleeding lonely heart".
How reassuring! never would he turn back,
after this difficult take off awaited life long.
No more entries in this log book.
Her dark make up, was feline an added attraction
that gave him a libidinous surge, an ******** with ample promises,
to last till he reaches his destination final, from where
the return flight, is even unthinkable the lady pilot winks.
This Cessna to the unknown, has the aphrodisiacal scent of
wild orchid flowers he once discovered in the far stretches
of the Western Ghat mountain ranges
and ******** secretions of one particular lover
a reminder perhaps death wants to carry as it happens**
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
***
***Integrity is a virtue that is a choice to learn and uphold,
Not something that we are born with***
***
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 1:33 PM UTC
It was summer, late 80's, Lubbock, Texas, age prevents me from recallng the exact date and time. It was my father on the phone, asking if me and my wife, Karen, would like to go with him out to the airport to visit with my Uncle Jack(Major, USAF ret.). Jack called him and said that he and a 'friend' were flying in private plane to Houston, and would be stopping in Lubock and would be in around noon. Jack was the youngest of three brothers, and my favorite. Shortly before eleven, dad picked us up and off we went. I asked dad if he knew who was coming with him, and he said "no, have no idea."
Sitting in the coffee shop, looking out the windows, we saw this Cessna land, and taxi over to the gate. "There they are", dad said, with some anticipation. In a few minutes Jack and his 'friend' emerged. The 'friend" was tall, slender, grayish hair, crew cut. He looked familiar, that 'friend' as they entered the room, and then came the introductions.
His name was "Deke" Slayton. One of the original seven astronauts chosen by NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) to participate in the original Mercury program in 1959,and was later the pilot of the docking module when they docked with the Soviet Soyuz capsule in 1975. He was a bomber pilot during WWII, and later became a test pilot. Jack was a glider pilot during the war, and upon retiring from the air force went to work for the FAA(Federal Aeronautics Administration) as Supv. Flight Control Operations, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. They had known each other for a long time.
Needless to say, Karen and I nearly "slid out if our chairs", for it's not everyday when you find yourself having a casual cup of coffee and conversation with someone who considered such feats as, "just doing his job."
"You never know, who you're going to meet..... on any given day..... at any given time."
r.riddle: 10-16-2016
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
On gloomy overcast , Driving down the Texas road.. Destination airstrip, to fly above the gray sad day, And see the sun from my Cessna that I pilot today.. No matter what I can always see the sun when I fly above the gray..
No matter how the day looks.. I can always see the sun in my Cessna..
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 2:57 PM UTC
I have found my soul,
and it resides in a tiny Cessna.
Some people live dream to dream,
Me, I live flight to flight.
Just me, the sky, and my Cessna.
In that seat I feel whole.
Thank you for the journey today dear friend,
I long for you once again.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Don’t know where should I go
And I don’t think I cared anymore
Wide opened sectional
With a standby plotter
A flight computer
And a pencil
But no line was drawn
My plotter became useless
I let my Cessna flew by his own
And he followed where the wind blew
I noticed
The wind pushed me to that same airport
The same runway I tried to avoid
It's like faith
The further I go
The stronger the wind blows
Or it's just my crazy theory
Or maybe my mind plays tricks on me
I’m lost in the nowhere’s skies
And I still found her
No matter how far I fly
The wind leads me to her
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:15 AM UTC