"sighting" poems
Impatience rode and passed me by,
I caught her looking down on me,
cuttingly,
with her gems for eyes.
scornfully,
sighting me
up
&
down.
Laughingly,
the sadistic mirth in her vision
spoke:
"Ha-ha,
Yes,
I've caught your attention,
how little you know;
a simple race with men
&
your limbs fail.
How then will you run with horses?"
I took wisdom from that evil look of thought.
In that moment,
I pulled
on
My Covering
much tighter,
that
Humble
but
Faith-full
Cloak,
I wrapped around me
firmly
averting my eyes
to the blazing
fire
before
me,
warming myself
in the comfort of its gaze,
patiently waiting...
…waiting
for horses.
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
Erebus disaster - November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is Vanda Station.
We have clear weather with no cloud and little wind.
If you want to fly over the dry valleys we will flash you with our signal mirrors so you can pinpoint the station.
Vanda Station, this is NZ niner zero one
Roger, we are now just north of Cape Hallett and will call you again for directions.
November Zulu Niner zero one Vanda Station.
Roger It’s a right hand turn just after Beaufort Island.
For the next few hours
There was no word
worst feared not heard
The radio crackled through the night
In the un natural sound of SSB
All crew up drinking coffee and tea
with the midnight sun
Glued to the HF single sideband
November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is
mac centre mac centre
howcopy
November zulu niner zero one
This is
vanda station vanda station
five four zero zero
Relay relay mac centre mac centre
Please contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Relay relay mac centre
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen howcopy
All through the night
Over and over
Hour after hour
The same message
Until that fateful call
Feared by all
Mac centre mac centre
This is
navy three two one
wreckage sighting wreckage sighting howcopy
mac centre
navy three one niner
Longitude
One six sefen
Two sefen echo
Latitude
Sefen six
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre mac centre
This is
Navy three two one
Correction Correction
I say again latitude
I say again Latitude
Sefen sefen
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre
Navy three two one
Ahh ahh mac centre There appear to be no survivors
Howcopy
So it was then,
That the on board data longitude error some would blame for the crash
Is something that happens often but is accommodated by good airmanship
by not relying on one thing alone.
was repeated in similar fate
by a latitude error
in the crash site location message
from the search aircraft XD01-48321
that found a terrible sight
that the sun stayed up on late
on a truly awful night
when 257 souls met their fate.
©GARY LEWIS.2009
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
To each their own form of bravery
For though this life is an individual test
It is not a challenge of rivalry
All have their hardships
Struggles of pain and unfairness
Working to rise again once being tripped
Do not judge another by what is seen
For bravery is often quiet
Keeping hidden where they've been
There are struggles that you
Will never, ever know
That may be very real to those around you
From physical limitations and disabilities
To emotional pain and despair
Life shows us our certain mortality
The goal is to still appreciate the gift of life
And become a better person
Becoming refined through our strife
So at points when you're low
And especially at points when you're high
Never judge someone, for you never know
Someone you see could be fighting
The fight of their lifetime, so think
Before you assume it's weakness you're sighting
Their fight may have just begun
Or maybe it's been going and going
And they can't last, they're done
No one has the right to judge another's bravery
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Erebus disaster - November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is Vanda Station.
We have clear weather with no cloud and little wind.
If you want to fly over the dry valleys we will flash you with our signal mirrors so you can pinpoint the station.
Vanda Station, this is NZ niner zero one
Roger, we are now just north of Cape Hallett and will call you again for directions.
November Zulu Niner zero one Vanda Station.
Roger It’s a right hand turn just after Beaufort Island.
For the next few hours
There was no word
worst feared not heard
The radio crackled through the night
In the un natural sound of SSB
All crew up drinking coffee and tea
with the midnight sun
Glued to the HF single sideband
November zulu niner zero one
November zulu niner zero one
This is
mac centre mac centre
howcopy
November zulu niner zero one
This is
vanda station vanda station
five four zero zero
Relay relay mac centre mac centre
Please contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen
Relay relay mac centre
Contact mac centre eight niner niner sefen howcopy
All through the night
Over and over
Hour after hour
The same message
Until that fateful call
Feared by all
Mac centre mac centre
This is
navy three two one
wreckage sighting wreckage sighting howcopy
mac centre
navy three one niner
Longitude
One six sefen
Two sefen echo
Latitude
Sefen six
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre mac centre
This is
Navy three two one
Correction Correction
I say again latitude
I say again Latitude
Sefen sefen
Two six sierra
howcopy
Mac centre
Navy three two one
Ahh ahh mac centre There appear to be no survivors
Howcopy
So it was then,
That the on board data longitude error some would blame for the crash
Is something that happens often but is accommodated by good airmanship
by not relying on one thing alone.
was repeated in similar fate
by a latitude error
in the crash site location message
from the search aircraft XD01-48321
that found a terrible sight
that the sun stayed up on late
on a truly awful night
when 257 souls met their fate.
©GARY LEWIS.2009
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC
Faces that pass along in the stuffy summer night
See right through me
Though I fight to be seen, to be noticed
Acknowledged as a living breathing entity
I walk along, waiting to be picked up for a second
Inspected for usefulness
And put down again
Expiring my helpfulness again and again
And then I see the shining ray of glory
She steps through the crowd of gray
And addresses me by name
And I lead her down winding paths of Gold and Silver
And she kisses me with her eyes
She makes love to me with her words
I feel her in every depth within me
And then she's gone
Leaving a vacancy in my soul.
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 9:18 PM UTC
if dandelions sprouted from my chest
and cherry blossoms sprouted from yours
I think the reason we cannot be one
would become evident immediately
I am unwanted,
plucked away and hidden at first sight
left to die, hoping my return never comes
as though I was never there to begin with
you, the weary blossom
showing your face in the smallest intervals
your sighting a blessing, to all that see
leave your adoring fans, wanting more
I wish for more of you too, you know
I yearn deeply, each waking hour
that you would attempt to cover your beauty
only temporarily
and I could cover my unsightly anatomy
maybe permanently
and we could love one another
for just a day
my heart in your hands
and your hands in my hair
our lips pressed together
your blossoming chest
and my unwanted greenery
no longer in the way
just tickling a little
when our bodies merge as one
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Caribbean blue sail's a galaxy
rivers gushing, mumbling for an eternity
reflections of Love forms to thee
Suddenly silence adumbrate
aesthete, A lustful tint of Peruvian trees
petrichor whiffs of earth's virginity
A syzygy that I can't apprehend
but, can fully appreciate its denouement
rebirth of once I fell in love been
Listen to its sotto voce ruffling
preterlabent streams, resplendent hymns
humming grasses cues to sing
Upon the mountain tops hidden
rocks of geos sighting a treasure within
only to discover lore’s of forbidden
Cascading trees whispered a cold
a journey I never knew how to go as told
trap between floras along the road
Propinquity of my eyes closing thin
soul reserved for death, till breath hops in
trodden a land ****** for me to begin
A minstrel with hands like marbles
strung a fiddle of tessellated symphonies
open wonders the eyes never seen
A bouquet of amaranth revealed
the longing heart found someone of new
sighs my feelings and away I strew
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
unsure, uncertain,
of the laws invested
in the realms and reams
of poetry ingested,
am i addict,
or supplier,
retail consumer
or
wholesale supplier,
a mom & pop candy store,
or a metastasizing intelligence
that takes any thing, and all,
a solitary letter,
an instance of a sighting,
a gasping palpitation
and reformats it into
a hehe literary madhatter^ piece
you supply, I demand,
I supply, boy oh boy,
do I ever, but you never,
come to me directly asking,
write me a poem, thick or thin,
witty fitty or an overly looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong
e~pistle (a/k/a e~pistol)
yet the trade goes on and om,
the marketplace never closes,
except when periodically the
gatewaykeeper is slow to pay his bills,
and the trading centres are global scattered,
young entrepreneurs try to sell a single
piece, as if it was breaking news history,
and tired old men, review their lived,
eager to memorialize, so it's ok to forget,
in retro!spect perspective,
the mirror who cannot lie,
states affirmatively, you are
both ****** and dealer,
a corporation scientific
of ancient biblical origins,
a psalmist, a deacon,
a lyricist, but thankfully
not a singer,
an essayist who writes best
when ****** by tawny port wine,
who snatches inspiration with
equality of equity,
(wait! that's wrong,
the equity of equality,)
where he can
find, ***** city streets, the deaths
of heroes, the sunrise calm miracle
he drinks in daily, by rivers, by seas,
by estuaries brackish, and streams
of watered purity, the riveting bays,
the individualized glisten deflected
into my eyes, that each
contains one pure blessing within…. nml
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 9:24 AM UTC
I
pant at your sheer beauty
after the first sighting
in silence
I
crave and cradle your innocence
unnoticed
I
thirst to drink
from the source of your well
reluctantly
I
quiver a cowardice illusion
of the first move
from an awry smile of ignorance
I
steal your beauty and shred
Your body to pieces
unreachable you are torn from
a
silhouette desire
in
a damaged Magazine
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Promenade of Colors
reality ought to fade
watermarks on evening lake
the Lad idling was awake
Torments of Agony
the fear of ambiguity
a broidery of epitaph
toiling the stars up the top
Free of Delusions
impassive feelings strut
to the unknown that fogs
and hems over the mutt
Dashes of Silver
passing vessels of desolate
coxswain sighting out for love
moon bobs from the lake
Willows of Empathy
humming of Mississippi
-a friend that greets
the lake gave its peace
Signs of Eve
the breeze whispered
a wisp of eyes uncluttered
the Lad unshackled
Artistry of Sky
as spirits begins to fly
I was full astound
my purpose, now I found
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
*Sighting her image in truth's
mirror with anger she squealed.
Scratched her woolly hair
and ripped off her brown veil.
Broke everything in her way
and shamelessly walked bare.
But I had immense respect for
women, I give heed, I do care.
I went to market and brought a
bread while continued the unrest.
I gave her the bread so that along
with it her anger she could digest.*
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
This was written a few Septembers ago. Walking on the streets of a now deserted beach island, only the leaves, in various states, to keep me company.
September,
walk with me,
under bridges of wedding tree canopies,
still green aplenty,
tho subtle marked for change,
making summer illusions,
environmentally unsustainable.
September,
stroll on pathways
of lesser, off the track, shaded lanes,
the sun blocker trees wear new necklaces,
brown and yellow diamonds,
a coming attraction of
their denouement,
their denudement.
The September trees are:
Ever so slightly stooped,
bent with weight of a surety,
knowing with high certainty,
their future, bleak,
bowed and drooped,
discouraged by the
cold travails soon to arrive.
Living in the recent past,
I am dressed inappropriately,
white tee and shorts,
past pretender,
still dressed in my
Gap issue summer uniform,
summer suspended animation.
Island streets are de-humanized,
gone home are the children,
newly fallen leaves have,
their place, taken.
The leaves are:
magically organized along
the sidelines of empty streets,
quiet stadiums of would be
kid's touch football fields.
browned, crisp and soulless,
first greet this solitary stroller,
like a cheering throng of ghosts,
celebrating a sighting -
man, as a seasonal fossil,
one that still is living
and worth reminding, yet
human too shall pass when
his fall arrives.
the leave's cheers make over
into jeers and mocking laughs:
Oh humans, they say,
your summer songs naive,
mais tres charmant.
On Crescent Beach,
the driftwood sadly forlorn,
looking more adrift than ever,
for no one passes to express
admiration at the past seasons
Nouveau Expressionism,
an objet d'art lonely,
for the beach gallery shuttered,
raising questions existential.
Is driftwood on the beach sans
human admiration,
art, truth or refuse?
I am looking backwards as the
Earth moves forward.
My own axis, my eyes,
conscientious objectors
refuse to be pressed
into service of the seasons.
No, no,
to involuntary servitude,
to rotation and revolution.
Nature's witnesses,
trees and leaves write
their own poem,
of foolish men who:
Bow and droop,
discouraged by the
travails soon to arrive,
Delaying their own fall,
finally shed summer delusions
like leaves upon the ground,
summer poetry silenced,
summer suspended, no more.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Note: we always hear of miraculous stories every day
And of guardian angels and near death experiences.
Are these small individual miracles created by GOD S hand
Or is it his angels which are sent to protect us? Who is to say!
And the greater miracles and visions seen by thousands
At one time. In one place such as the sighting of MARY holding JESUS
Above the Greek Church.
All miracles large and small are created by GODS call.
These are signs that he creates just to test humanities faith.
So many prayers have been heard because of their
Belief in GODS word.
This is the time of year where dreams are fulfilled and miracles created
And the repairing of lives that were devastated.
Where smiles are put back on children s faces
And hope is put back into the hearts of man
With the gentle touch of GODS hand.
That unexpected bonus that MR. JONES had never received before
As he was about to walk out that door.
That hospital prayer that you gave- when you thought your loved
One would slip away.
That car accident that you walked away from
When you thought your life was done.
What about Mr. H who fell off his roof and cracked open his head
And everyone thought he was dead, yet he got up and walked away
And never a complaint until this day.
GOD creates millions of small miracles every day
But the miracle I would like to see is the cleansing of humanity.
Just pure thoughts in the minds of men, and the worlds
Tragedies would finally end.
Just the thought of no wars, no hunger , no slavery, no abuse
And all the minds put to good use.
Working hand in hand to cure the illnesses throughout our lands.
Where equality is really true, for men and women like me and you.
Our ocean food line is dwindling fast because no control laws have been passed.
The slaughtering of dolphins and whales are world wide
And our politicians turn a blind eye.
We must spread the word of peace and love that the LORD
Has given us from up above.
© LRAMS
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Sighting the preening peacock
Slithered into the bush
Wily snake
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
Once of a bride was I by a belle informed;
Who, on the very night of their honeymoon
Upon sighting her groom's dower, screamed
And would not let him in for his ***** boon,
Until she's taken thru the script the following
Morn by her parson's wife in cool counselling.
Many things in morals and etiquette do
Parents their children ever and anon teach
Except on this single unfolding issue
Will they falter to them plainly preach:
The act of marriage in its detailed image,
Cause it's found nay on their nurturing page.
An African mother will quiver her girl to lecture,
For instance, in the subject under review,
But will leave it to the Omniscient Nature
To instruct her like cry to a curlew.
So the bride's mom will not to her say:
This is how you should roll in the hay.
Neither will a father his son likewise tell
Explicitly of this duty--this too I know--
How to make his led-to-the-altar angel
Fly on cloud nine during their maiden show.
My pa never me of this nuptial scene told,
How in bed my lady I should stylishly hold.
Yet instinct, that great ancient teacher,
The green Adam and ****** Eve taught
On man's debut moment of ecstasy ever,
And did lead him to her piquant spot,
Whilst one another they caressed for affection,
Premiering for all couples conjugal copulation.
And the animals who do not the wisdom
Of man have, even every diminutive creature,
How each by divine smarts in their kingdom--
Like the fish in the sea of their rapture--
Do with themselves mate with none
Giving them tutorials nor showing them ****
To close this up where it had first started:
The *iyawo after the pending deed was done,
As it should betwixt man and wife, delighted
Was and with glowing warmth did thence burn
In the hearth of her *ókò with ultra joy,
Who at the beginning of performance was coy.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
My words flowed from my mouth like a perfectly tuned faucet, as the bright spot light, shinned down on my off-set. The audience didn't object, to the imagery I painted. My stanza's killing to the page for dear life, waiting to be read right; from my eager lips -- sheets shifting, pages crumbling, stomaching rumbling, the audience attention's shifts - and my nightmare always ends like this.
A day dream, about me sharing my gift. The ability to uplift -- then finding my self in deep **** In the middle of reciting it. I keep relieving, and re-sighting it. All this doubt in my mind, I keep inviting it. That's why I instead of becoming a spoken word, I'll just keep writing it., because stage fright, is some frightening ****
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
"Have you ever sailed across an ocean, Donald? On a sail boat surrounded by sea with no land in sight. Without even the possibility of sighting land for days to come. To stand at the helm of your destiny. I want that, one more time. I want to be in the Piazza Del Campo in Sienna. To feel the surge as ten race horses go thundering by. I want another meal in Paris, at L'Ambroisie in the Place Des Vosges. I want another bottle of wine. And then another. I want the warmth of a women in the cool set of sheets. One more night of jazz at the Vanguard. I want to stand on summits and smoke cubans and feel the sun on my face for as long as I can. Walk on the wall again. Climb the tower. Ride the river. Stare at the frescoes. I want to sit in the garden and read one more good book. Most of all I want to sleep. I want to sleep like I slept when I was a boy. Give me that. Just one time. That's why I won't allow that punk out there to get the best of me, let alone the last of me."
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 6:25 AM UTC
i can smell the hymn
the life i want to be in
noxious as it seems
undaunted i'll sing.
i hear the bright sun
auspicious,tells me i can!
amidst of winter
savor the invincible summer.
sighting the sweetness
this life has lot to offer.
i feel its scent like a flower
blooming from nowhere.
who will there?
trying to decipher
my incoherent thoughts
i'll share...
1-17-11
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 10:49 AM UTC
not your body
not your skin
not the tips of your peachy fingers
not your passionate kiss
not your heart beat
not your breath hovering over my neck,
sending goosebumps and shivers down my spine
not your eyes sighting upon my beauty
or my loveliness or my seduction or my carefreeness
I want to feel you
move
inside
not inside of me
(though, that could be nice too)
inside of you
your own heart
your own echoing cage of ribs
that lock up even scarier skeletons
than the skeleton holding it all together
I want to feel you
without being with you
without holding you
without seeing you
without constantly thinking of you
without wanting you
I want to feel you
when I am miles away,
reading a book with a cup of tea in pyjamas
when you are in class and hear something brilliant
someone just said,
something that makes you stop and think of me
without resentment
without longing
without need
without hiding
something so simple, so clear and so pertinent
something that moves and removes the clutter
in you
I want to feel you love
yourself,
the world,
the trees, the scrapes on your heart’s knees
and me
with no want and no need
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Archers stance, breath held
Sighting along the arrow
The calm then the storm
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
she turned the questions in her eyes aside
and stealing away in the quiet
of the pine forest winters day
the taste of wood smoke was tangible on the sharp cold air
and his eyes hunted the ridge crest for sing of flames
as they hurried their steps along the rough hewn track
she carried the child whos silent contemplation
showed his understandings of the gravity of this flight
the bundle of possessions on his shoulder
weighed upon his mind
counselling himself not to regret casting it all aside should need arise
the woman and child so fragile and dear to his heart
mean so much more than mere trinkets of gold
he would surrender without pause life and limb to spare them
she was a smoky version of bobby dylan
complete with winged snakes in each hand
complete with a crown of jewels
and the thousand words dance
he was a seafaring man
they reached the shore of the sea
and found the wreckage of a sailing ship
her fine line speaking clear of her swiftness
and her appointments show without shyness
that she was of the finest portugal shipyards
they spent days making her seaworthy
laying up in the harsh tropical sun
neath the palm trees drinking *** from her stores
they put to sea in the birth of the new year
singing 'goodbye spanish ladies'
the three of them on the skiff tacking up-channel
trying to determine latitude by sighting
but a fog rolls in off the coast of grande bahama
as dawn breaks
man woman and grown child
the miles and the treasures cast aside
each wore on open hearted face
but neath the weary of sea miles
was their joys in the true riches
of eachothers soft hand entwined as they sailed into
a golden dusk
of a lesser throne
a kingdom of the sea
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Head spinning
Feet tapping
Mind wrapping
Thought trapping
Idea capping
Desperation mapping
Quality lacking
Spaces filled
Time killed
Not thrilled
Answers willed
Nails biting
Cheaters sighting
After all nighting
Wrongs not righting
Feel like flighting
Brainpower waning
Lack of knowledge maintaining
Wisdom draining
Composure regaining
Test failing
Arms flailing
Letters mailing
Face paling
The big unveiling
No more prevailing
The action entailing:
My annihilation
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 5:04 AM UTC
The way the stars shined,
The way they filled up the sky
Made it all seem bright
The place they have been
The place of their last sighting
Changes my sorrow
But what about her?
What the stars were, so was she
They're identical
However, I can't.
I simply cannot forget
Simply can't accept
She's gone away now
Gone where I couldn't find her
Where she's out of reach
Now I must accept
That she is a star, shining
But really, isn't.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
i'll admit i found him humorous upon first sighting.
he was
obese,
with one leg,
in a motorized wheel chair,
wearing large sunglasses,
a volunteer firefighter cap,
and awkward headphones, circa '79.
"hello there, sir!"
he shouted as his wheel chair and body
shifted, slanted, bounced with each crack in the pavement.
"hey, how's it goin'?"
i called back, with a warm and hospitable tone.
i've been trying to be more social.
"i am blessed, but sir, would you be so kind
as to help me get some food?"
"yeah sure. where's the food?"
good deed for the day.
"i don't know, i guess around this here corner. i'm lookin' for that pizza place."
"oh okay, i think it's just over here past the bookstore."
"alright. what's your name, boy?
"josh. and yours, sir?"
"james. josh it is a pleasure to meet you. and i thank you.
you see i'm homeless, mr. josh. and you wouldn't believe
how often people turn away from me, josh."
"that's awful."
"yes it is. but i pray for them.
they need it.
may the lord forgive them. may the lord forgive me."
"here's that pizza place."
"excellent. would you go in and get me some food?"
oh. i'm buying him food.
that's what "help me get some food" means.
"of course. what would you like?"
i returned ten minutes later with a gyro, a pepsi, and some chips.
"thank you mr. josh," he said with a bright smile, "this will be a fine meal.
now, josh, you have done a good thing. look at my eyes."
he removed his sunglasses.
his eyes seemed normal enough.
"i ain't no druggy or dope fiend. i'm just james w. green. mr. green.
i was a bass player that just fell on some bad luck. now josh, i'm asking
you as a friend to just give me a little more, so i can eat tonight."
this made me uncomfortable.
i hate to admit it, but i began to suspect this uni-legged, bass player, of ripping me off.
i gave him a 5-dollar bill. that's a weeks worth of suppers at taco bell.
he said a prayer for me.
then he asked me on behalf of jesus,
"can you look into your heart and give generously? just one big donation and who knows what could happen!?"
i gave him another ten.
"thank you mr. josh. i appreciate it. remember me? and do me a favor?"
"sure."
"tell the world about mr.green!"
you're welcome, james.
May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 1:41 PM UTC