"landings" poems
Just a little, just a small, just a bit
Exuding burst of energy
Embodiment of brilliance
Manifested in human flesh
Wondering while we walk
Trembling trying to talk
Mankind mostly marred momentum
Humanity how humiliating, hiding
Forefathers frowning, from our fabricated forget
Refusing redemption, requiring rancor and retribution
Always armed, allured, awaiting angry accusations
Derailed doves, these daggers drag down
Losing level landings, lacerating learning's lifting
Just a little, just a small, just a bit
Exuding burst of energy
Embodiment of brilliance
Manifested in human flesh
I implore indignation, it's incarceration of our intrinsic immensity
At the core of our conception, captivating creation captured
Anyone, everyone, afraid of the amazement accrued under our armor
Profoundness, endless as the universe, favoring our existence
Just a little, just a small, just a bit
Exuding burst of energy
Embodiment of brilliance
Manifested in human flesh
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
She was never steady—
always ready for the grand depart;
she lived for take-offs and landings—
she's the girl with a suitcase heart.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
Life's like a big wheel keeps on turning
Time runs away, every day I'm learning
To roll with the punches, follow my hunches
Loving the way it feels
Just to be alive
Getting the chance to ride on the big wheel
I'm takin my share of dead end curves
Had to steady my nerves and steal my courage
Had a lot of hard landings
but I ain't hanging up my wings
Yeah I'm still rippin' down that hill
Still hanging on with all my will
Lookin' back now I still
Wouldn't change a thing
I've had a few lovers leave their mark
I've broken my pride
and I've broken my heart
But I'm gonna live my life
before it all goes dark
Life's like a big wheel keeps on turning
Time runs away, every day I'm learning
To roll with the punches, follow my hunches
Loving the way it feels
Just to be alive
Getting the chance to ride on the big wheel
On the big wheel
Just to be alive
Getting the chance to ride on the big wheel
On the big wheel
On the big wheel
I'm still learning to ride on the big wheel
I'm still learning to ride on the big wheel
On the big wheel
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
719
A South Wind—has a pathos
Of individual Voice—
As One detect on Landings
An Emigrant’s address.
A Hint of Ports and Peoples—
And much not understood—
The fairer—for the farness—
And for the foreignhood.
2.1k
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I am earth breathing fire hearing wind moving water beneath my meat eating feet. I stare through the ghost riding I am Equine the warship of the Poised den at landings end I devour funnel cakes within the three circles, I merge the warmth and cool blending the reflections with its shadow commanding paddle cyclical backstroke the Frog's moment chosen amp powered transition form and fathom an alternate realm, I dropped a meteor on a puddle world displacing half of all livin; Lanced a Wasp's nest as a Dragoon steals an egg as a test.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
Perilous voyages of small watercraft at sea , amphibious landings on well defended beachheads , Clipper ships whaling on distant oceans , military vessels in armed conflict , night of relentless cannon fire , explosive reflections across shark infested waters , treasure maps and chest laden with gold , rubies and pieces of eight , the cry of Viking warriors on the rugged coast of Newfoundland .. Pirates just off the shores of the Carolinas .. Forts Pulaski , Sumter and Jefferson on the Dry Tortugas ..
Oil platforms racked by ferocious winds on the Gulf of Mexico ..
Union and Confederate battles on Mobile Bay , Riverboats traversing the Mississippi ..Tending barges along the Ohio ..On high alert through Georgia's intracoastal waterways ....
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
we must remember d day remember all the brave
and the ones who died with water for a grave
the landings on the shore with battle all around
the courage of the soldiers as they stood there ground.
surrounded by the mines all along the beach
barbed wire and the guns as the shore they breach
the bravery they give as they fought away
we all must remember them on this famous day
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:11 AM UTC
Tonight Ill lie awake waiting for the reprieve of sleep that will never come. My eyes will bore holes in the night sky for stars. Like a moth eaten blanket that covered up the outside light. My heart will sink to the center of the earth like stones and heavy metals. Arms crossed hugging myself so tight. Thoughts twist and curl through my mind like the dark waters in the sound. I’m sitting upon the breakwall that I’ve built, held steady by the mortar of my past life. Prior planning leads to stable landings.
The water leaked into the cracks that you made. I sandbagged but it meant nothing. It was like dutch fingers in cracking dams. Contents pouring out to water Holland’s tulips.
I held steady so long but recent lapses in judgement left me open and waiting.
This time, like the last, I read the weather report wrong. Sunny days relapse into clouds and rain. My stray into meteorology took me down dark streets at night passing empty parks with vacant swings and lonely slides. Houses filled with slumbering occupants. Tired streetlights lighting up void roadways like ancient nightlights. Somehow I managed to find my way home. Back to where I’ve always been. Stagnant between the surf and the cliff face, I sink to swim
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 1:54 PM UTC
Let me introduce him.
half smile and half manipulation
He will take you out to fancy dinners
and then pinch your inner thigh under the table
He will sweep you off your feet
but forget to grab you shoes
Because you see
he doesn't want you to stand on your own
Like an air traffic controller
He is dictating your landings and departures
But all you want is a departure
Warmer skies
And a healthier landing
But he keeps you
Firmly planted on the ground
And then He bribes you with affection
and later handles you with his tongue
But as his hands cover your mouth
And you feel muffled by his presence
you lose yourself
You used to be a rainbow
You used to be seen only in technicolor
Now you're wearing black
submitting to his obsession
your simple lies turn him into a monster
and you're quivering like a child
Scared to put a toe down
Because his anger lurks beneath the bed
holding the blanket close around your neck
You beg for his forgiveness
He calls you his princess
and builds you a tower
But girl it doesn't matter how long you grow your hair
He will find a way to criticize it anyway
And you're bound to pay
I can't satisfy his anger
He hides behind it
Jabbing your sides with little suggestions
That dress is to short
That's a lot of skin
Excuse me ************
Who's body am I in?
And I don't need a fairy tale
What's it to ya anyway
I'm just a bird with a broken wing
You see I used to have two
One for luck
And the other for navigation
So why is leaving him resound with hesitation
And somedays I dream of a different life
One that's filled with witty repartee
And symphonies
Cellos play sweet melodies
And I take my two wings and fly between the notes
And I float
Catching air
I'm up there
But he takes his water hose and shoots me down
Because he only likes me wet and vulnerable
I think he is catching on
So I turn into sand
And taking a fistful he squeezes
Jesus
I'm falling through the cracks of his insecurities
And I find myself there
And I dust myself off
And fly
That's goodbye.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
Oh ferocious angels,
lionesque children of Eden
on narrow streets and polluted alleyways
whispering cruel things to each other,
you're radiant in your belligerence
and as my enemies you are virtuous.
Beside me in this carpeted rectangle room
a faint glow exhales
from the tall alpine ivory lamp illuminating
firefly wings of blossoms
alluringly exuberant in the afternoon sun-ray
diamond shine and shimmer.
Dusty tin roofs billow
firewood smoke in the thick violet shade fog over-top cabin potted
mountains and hills sprouting firs and rose bushes abounding.
Spectrum cast chandeliers echo staircases which
jot up and up arduous ruby landings,
hardwood floor cracked
and stacks of novels ballast the senescent hallways
of bookshops where poets works and journals diaries and memoirs blur
the serpentine walls with memories.
Angelic the soul which is too often contaminated with
avarice rebellious to concord living
harmonious midst dew grass and calm waters in residential lakes
empathy equanimity, far from Bodhisattva.
Few kinds of darkness transcendental
subduing other darkness to a weak shadow.
There's an importance to admiring the delirium of metropolitan roads on roads
this intricate unspoken connection to those who
rest by stoplights and crawling traffic metallic molten aura of
cars in July heat.
Paying attention to the open window of adjacent apartments
where Mr. Norris waters his tulips and shares this moment
modern meditations practiced
finding a balance in such an anxious
volatile world like this.
Oh ferocious angels, impetuous
forlorn seraphs,
sing! sing and soar!
Boundless is our ardor
and our passion.
Unenclosed is the lion
in it's bloom.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 3:09 AM UTC
nothing has ever given me a rush quite like leaving,
like sitting in an airport moments away from getting on a plane.
i’m a little scared of heights,
in the way that they make my heart go racing
and i don’t like feeling my pulse leave my chest,
but i’ve always loved leaning over the edge.
i’m scared of heights in the way that i’m scared of planes:
i love the concept and the purpose and the view,
but nothing scares me like going into airplane bathrooms,
when i haven’t slept in two hours too many
and the mirrors are like a funhouse from a scary movie.
airplane bathrooms are like a portal into the past,
except this time i can see every crack and fissure
and misplaced hair in the outline of who i’m trying to be.
i don’t like airplanes in the sense that time doesn’t exist,
that where you’re landing is different from where you were beginning,
that i can sleep for seven hours only to find out
that i’m two hours behind where i lifted off.
i’m scared of missing things, i guess.
i don’t like airplanes in the way that i’m scared of what lies ahead:
because i really like going,
and i really like getting there,
but landings make my ears hurt like hell and
takeoffs make my stomach churn.
i know where i am and i think i have a vague sense of where i want to be,
i know when i’m real and when i’m dreaming,
but it’s the in between that loses me.
i’m scared of the dark,
but differently than heights or flying,
because that’s just a loss of time.
i’m scared of the dark because it’s a loss of everything.
if you can’t see it then how can it exist until you’re
bumping your knees on coffee tables and stubbing your toes on walls
and the cat’s eyes are reflecting light from nowhere
and you’re waiting for the claws.
i’m scared of the dark because the dark is uncertainty
hiding all the truths that we want to believe,
because the dark is all the spots ahead of us that aren’t set in concrete,
because the dark is deep and suffocating,
because i don’t like not being able to see.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 5:36 PM UTC
four feeble pairs of wings
flapping, beaks preening
imaginary things.
mom bird looking old
pop bird real bold
their four offspring
are being told
"avoid the black birds
the biggest and the blackest"
they perch on the rooftop
near the gutter, cheeping
loudly all a flutter
even in the bird world
the squeakiest young'un
gets the greasiest grub
diving, landing, more
feeding on demanding,
mom and pop bird are
in charge, "beware of wings
size, LARGE"
finding a wet garden bed,
beaking the broken ground till
tiny pebbles and tiny insects
feed the hunger digest the rest.
Young wings no longer frail,
flight and landings
dive and lift, glide
and swoop, and land alight
on the edge of a solo flight
until the three birdboys and one birdgirl
find a mate, each
(And give mombird and popbird a wel-deserved rest)
oh and as for the three bad birds
in all black tuxedos, they were chased
and they raced away from six fast
fearless finches
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
I am thankful for the opportunity to feel.
To be here, as opposed to absence.
I am a statistical near impossibility.
Death missed me as stars led me from nothingness
through time to landings where feet touched, and
breath breathed, and hearts pumped.
I am fortunate for the blessing of clarity and thankful
of those moored in the void around me.
Is love? Is love, s/he said, (…) is love.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
What’s Your Water
*If you talk to Wallace J. Nichols, Ph.D., a marine biologist and the author of Blue Mind, a book about the physical and psychological benefits of water, for long enough,
he’ll eventually ask you*,
***what’s your water?
And as it turns out, nearly everyone has an answer.***
<>
Having lived longer
than I had a right to expect,
through decades of lost years, pain imbued an attitudinal of:
‘I do not ****** care,’
find myself perplexed now by my near
escapes, death misses, graceful landings,
and now,
the fortune tellers ply me with
predictive prescription possibilities
of a good many more!
So I write this missive,
mine own “Guide to the Perplexed.”
for a longest miserable
drove me to deep despair,
and even the littlest do was a wasn’t undone,
to insure any extension, even hurry up a clusterfk,
and here I am
yet, wander-in-g & wonder-in-g,
Why, what
accidents of fortune reversal,
made my prior life a rehearsal
for a hopeful long end run,
before a Mahomes miracle touchdown
Knowingly
looking for the X Fsctor,
discovered that the solution was
W2
W squared)
where W is a
(Woman,Water) multiplier
Found a woman who
lived by waterways,
upon island bodies and seas of rivers
that led to
this little island that
gave me
the solitude unsolicited
to see inside my
history
leaving me with
no imperative imperial resources to resist,
but to make it
just one day more,
to let the celestial sun
celebrate a new daily saluted calculus,
Of
*the sum total of
every grain of water
in this world
evaporated to be rebirthed
in a million raindrops
just like me and
poetry*
writ over the spring & summer of 2024
Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 11:59 AM UTC
How am I to teach myself
that rage is not love
that abuse is not love
that hurt is not love
that forcefulness is not love
when that is all i have ever known
when you are gentle
you do not speak in anger
you never raise your voice
you always smile
you always make me laugh
only kindness ever leaves your mouth
i feel like a child again when i am with you
before all the badness took over my life
i am hard
rough around the edges
but you
oh my you
you are so soft
your edges aren't even edges at all
they're soft landings
like the way a dandelion falls
onto the grass so gracefully
in the middle of spring
you are my hope again
you are my new beginning
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
flying is easy,
easy
i
think
minus crash landings that leave you to sink
but i was always able to fly
flying is easier than waving goodbye
they sang in choruses witty and bright
like airplanes across the ocean they flew
darling did you tell them?
darling don’t you see?
i’m a ship stranded at sea.
there’s no body to come rescue me
you were always too scared to fly
too well practiced at goodbyes.
so i’ll drown in this ocean
while you sit on the shore
always wishing we were something more.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
A Winter Ship
At this wharf there are no grand landings to speak of.
Red and orange barges list and blister
Shackled to the dock, outmoded, gaudy,
And apparently indestructible.
The sea pulses under a skin of oil.
A gull holds his pose on a shanty ridgepole,
Riding the tide of the wind, steady
As wood and formal, in a jacket of ashes,
The whole flat harbor anchored in
The round of his yellow eye-button.
A blimp swims up like a day-moon or tin
Cigar over his rink of fishes.
The prospect is dull as an old etching.
They are unloading three barrels of little *****
The pier pilings seem about to collapse
And with them that rickety edifice
Of warehouses, derricks, smokestacks and bridges
In the distance. All around us the water slips
And gossips in its loose vernacular,
Ferrying the smells of cod and tar.
Farther out, the waves will be mouthing icecakes —-
A poor month for park-sleepers and lovers.
Even our shadows are blue with cold.
We wanted to see the sun come up
And are met, instead, by this iceribbed ship,
Bearded and blown, an albatross of frost,
Relic of tough weather, every winch and stay
Encased in a glassy pellicle.
The sun will diminish it soon enough:
Each wave-tip glitters like a knife.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
Knees aching climbing the hill,
gras patches, soft landings
among sandstone islands,
dreaming cold clime exploring.
Shoe gripping rocks
of concreted fossils,
weighing on times remains
- triassic scales.
My multiplexed cells,
morphed versions of those
modelled in the strata.
Not master of all I see.
Not master of me.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC
so i started this new hobby,
where i try to erase "bitter" out of every dictionary i
find, but sometimes it doesn't always disappear and it
sits there with eraser shavings in different shades of gray
like the collection of Polaroids i keep safe in my desk drawer.
in this occasion i will just take my handy - dandy sharpie
to color it in to leave it up to the imagination
or trial and error, like new cleaning products for the women
who are dissatisfied with being homebodies, but
i'm telling them not to be bitter, not to be this six letter word
because
28,835 days is an awful long time to carry
such an empty suitcase,
and if some of you don't understand that number,
an average woman's life expectancy is 79 years of age,
so i hope i calculated that correctly because i'm not so good at
math,
but i'm not saying all of us are average,
since sometimes we break too soon and the bitter takes
over the sweet like the winter takes over the fall, and
sometimes we are so free it gives us a few more days to really
feel alive.
i just don't want to be bitter, because the dictionary is filled with
so many other words like laugh and lust and flesh and
warmth.
so i think this book can do without just one word.
i guess i'm just a dreamer,
i've always wanted to fly to the moon
and swim with jellyfish,
just to say i never was stung by the globes
of the water but someone always told me
to tread lightly,
like there was broken glasses that
could get me anytime, but
that didn't stop the birds from flights or
landings as electricity pushed through their legs and
the weather never stopped the wars we
all soon forgot about.
we are forgetful people, misplacing our keys
and hearts in the rooms where we felt the most in.
so when i go about my business (and the times
could go slow), i will reenter each
book to find each word
that could
someday
somehow
direct me to "i'm sorry."
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 9:28 AM UTC
Planetary landings, not always that great
picking up a monster, no, not as freight
Not sure if it was breakfast, maybe it was brunch
Kane didn't like the grub, his gut the creature lunch
As it silently slides, through all the duct work
hard for them to tell, if it has a toothy smirk
Slinking in the halls, taking a stealthy walk
a sneaky little *** drooling as it stalks
The robot tried to **** our heroine, with delinquent ****
corporation ditched them, shares to be forsworn
Ash headless, finally spilling all the beans
weapons and research, by any way, any means
No hope of rescue, so far out in deep space
Captain Dallas missing, gone without a trace
Ripley oozing tension, trying to escape
crew is dead, or absent, or in an unknown state
Thank engineers and builders, for airlocks on the ship
blasted from the hatch, deported, on it's illegal Alien trip
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
*He walked through a wood,
Answering the trees,
Like some golden roustabout,
A Sophocles among nightshades,
Willows and the moving waters,
Wilderness wandered with he,
Wild in the sun as a freckled
Red headed lassie.
White butterflies waved their flags,
Surrendering to the murmurings
Bespoke in the sorrels and sores,
Waves of mumble wept into the winds,
Sands underfoot hushed by with him,
Birds above dreamed of no landings,
He could hear each word in their songs
Warbling in the briars and time poured
Its draught, fresh and dear as the first
Unearthly sunrise.*
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
In my eye's you've been half a circle
Not yet fully grown to be whole
Troubled heart...with mix messages of your youth unfold
Trying to fine a structure in your young life
Being rebelious, as most teenage kid's do
Attention drawn onto you
Seeking your own independence
Leads you to choices of big trouble
Not wanting to obey and play by your parents rules
Is a disobident child being a fool
Every course of life we've fed to you
The importance of being true
Eveything and everyone you feel, is against you
Deep down I understand your pain inside
I once was a teenager too
You have to show up and not continue to deny
Cause no soft landings will be the cure you seek
With being a follower and not a leader
Is like being a puppet on a string
It takes away your chance to stay free
To get respect, you must show respect
Or else sign the deed,...trust me
You will regret your own unplanned...."Agenda"
When you get locked up
To only throw away the key
You'll be just another young teenage black man
In the system, with a number
(upwc) 2009, by: Zenobia Lee /LadyZ710
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 17, 2009 at 7:07 AM UTC
Under the grey sky
I saw you. . .
There;
In your purple dress.
You stood like a statue
Of a Greek Goddess
Hovering over.
You took two shallow steps
To pull me out and
Not let me sink
Underneath all of this
Filth that I've created.
I wouldn't go back
Even if I could,
I couldn't go back
Even if I would.
Your lips moved twice
And signaled me in.
-Safe landings-
I'll make it home
Eventually. . .
The carpet is
A loaded gun.
I am your target.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Robin's flashing safety
coat's in flight, defying cats.
The pigeon squadron's wheeling,
awaiting a blackbird 'All Clear'.
Then they all come, perfect landings,
on grass and path and seed feeder,
a thieving, weaving, twittering scrum,
saleroom scurrying, juggling, grumbling.
Starlings gardening,
earthworms squirming,
magpies spooking,
pretence pets.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC