Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
K Balachandran Nov 2013
From above, the skydiver's eyes scan the verdant landscape-
rushing towards him, but she can't see that, he regrets,
though she too jumps, sitting in his heart, the quiet dove
dreaming immortality being his habit, he is in yogic trance as he land,
rushes to see her, as in here and now, is his foot hold as a householder
awaiting him for long, she kisses him ferociously on his mouth
"I can't wait anymore to roll in our bed"she warmed it for this moment,
If one is incapable of imagining the the higher reaches of particle state,
immortalities hug, after quietly going back, enjoy the sojourn here
It's a cycle, there isn't no two; Dive down from the air craft
over the clouds smiling, hear the whisper of the winds in both ears.
Live dangerously, raise to the sublime, before touching eternity.
Apart from the three states of mind, wakefulness, sleep and dream, Indian sages have elaborated on attaining the" Turiya"( meaning the fourth state in Sanskrit) when the yogi experiences pure consciousness.
Yogic trance experienced during meditation is the conscious awareness of the deep sleep state.Concept of "yoga nidra/yoga trance" is very ancient in Indian traditions such as Hinduism and Buddhism
Grahame Jun 2014
A beautiful angel, sitting on a cloud,
softly playing her harp,
Was suddenly frit by a noise so loud,
and hit by something sharp.

It’s Concorde, travelling faster than sound,
that is so very sharp,
The angel tumbles towards the ground,
while Concorde flies off with the harp.

She thinks, “No longer shall I sing
while on a cloud I’m sat,
That flying machine has broken my wing,
I’m falling fast, and that’s that!”

The wing though’s, not broken, and causes no pain,
so she thinks, just to feathers, is damage,
However, she tries to fly in vain,
it’s something she just cannot manage.

By spreading her wings slightly she manages to steer,
and thus, stops spinning around,
She is greatly filled with fear,
and still falling towards the ground.

And then, far below, she spies a small plane,
climbing into the sky,
The sight causes her some hope to gain,
and towards it she tries to fly.

“If I can land on the plane,” thinks she,
“that’s grand, cos my fall it will stop,
I might be able to ride it down safely,
and when it’s landed, off it can hop.”

She glides down, the plane flies higher,
and about halfway they meet ,
And though, for a moment, things seem dire,
she grabs on tight, and makes it her seat.

She sits there, astride the plane,
waiting for her panic to subside,
And realises, as plain as plain,
she’s in for a bumpy ride.

Then the plane levels out, her heart calms down,
and things are looking better,
She smooths out her lily-white gown,
and thinks, “Today’s one for a red letter!”

And then she hears a clunking noise,
a door is opened wide,
“Oh no!” she thinks, nearly losing her poise,
“There must be people inside.”

Inside the plane, the pilot had fretted,
he’d felt it pitch and yaw,
And though its balance had been upsetted,
he’d straightened it out once more.

By skydivers, chartered plane had been,
they’d all jumped out, except one,
They were experienced, she was green,
and now she was left all alone.

She’d thought that she should exit last,
’cause she’d never jumped before,
And her static line she’d made fast,
and followed the others to the door.

The door had been opened, they’d got ready to jump,
and finally it was her turn to go,
Then something had caused the plane to bump,
and the door had swung, and closed to.

The pilot had struggled to regain control,
he’d used the joystick and rudder,
The plane had pitched and tried to roll,
then yawed, and finally did shudder.

Eventually, the plane had been levelled out,
and the lone skydiver was shaken,
“Do you still want to jump?” the pilot did shout,
She’d said, “Yes,”  though she was mistaken.

When the plane had tossed, she’d banged her head,
and blacked out for a while,
So she should have stayed in the plane, instead
she thought she’d jump out with style.

She opened the door, and fastened it back,
her training however, had slipped
She didn’t realise her static line was now slack,
no longer safely clipped.

She got to the door, and outside leant,
and looked down at the ground,
Then blacked out again, which unfortunately meant
she fell out, and was earthwards bound.

The angel was still sitting on top,
starting to enjoy the flight,
Then, seeing the girl from the doorway flop,
realised that all was not right.

The girl was spinning around and around,
and falling out of control,
She rapidly fell, not making a sound,
she’d be lucky to get down whole.

The angel now knew something was wrong,
and that something right had to be done,
So she threw herself from the plane, headlong,
knowing that she was the one
Who had to help, or the girl might die,
so she tucked back her wings, to go faster,
The girl was in peril, so she had to try,
even though it might end in disaster.

Like a stooping hawk, down she did hurl,
cutting through the air,
Rapidly closing up to the girl,
until, she got to where
She realised she had to be,
right underneath the skydiver,
Correctly placed, just where she,
the proper aid could give her.

She rolled herself over, her wings she spread out,
the right trajectory she had guessed,
Then caught the girl, the waist about,
and drew her to her breast.

By now they had neared to the ground,
there was no time the ’chute to release,
And the angel kept her arms tight around,
the girl, her rescue she would not cease.

And dropping, with her back to the ground,
with the girl held tight on top,
She sensed a large hand, around them wound,
and their downwards plummet stop.

They were gently lowered to the mold,
and laid there, side by side,
The skydiver was still out cold,
the angel’s eyes opened wide,
Because, as she lay in that place,
a mighty presence seemed
To be looking down on her with grace,
and around her, angels teemed.

It was then she swooned, and knew no more,
until she woke up in a bed,
And to her surprise, on looking up, saw
no halo was over her head.

A nurse sitting close by her bedside,
smiled at her and said,
“You’re really lucky to be alive,
and so’s your friend, who’s in the next bed.”

Just then the ward door opened wide,
and four people clattered in,
They stood around the skydiver’s bedside,
and made an awful din.

“Tell us what happened up there, in the plane,”
the angel heard one of them say,
“I really do not know how to explain,
or what actually happened that day.”

The girl continued, “I was ready to go,
when the plane seemed to receive a bump,
And then I thought, everything’s ok, so,
I decided to make the jump.

I do remember opening the door,
and looking down at the ground,
And then, I remember nothing more,
’til I woke up here, safe and sound.”

One of the crowd said, “You gave us a fright,
you came out of the plane, spinning round,
Of your parachute, there was no sight,
we were sure you’d crash into the ground.”

Another one said, “Something else wasn’t right,
we were certain that your ’chute was red,
Then one seemed to appear, that was lily-white,
which broke your fall instead.”

A third one spoke, “And another thing,
which I just can’t get out of my head,
It seemed as though I heard angels sing,
as I ran over, to check you weren’t dead.”

Finally, the fourth one said,
“And my mind’s still in a whirl,
We saw that not only weren’t you dead,
lying next to you was a girl,
Your parachute hadn’t opened, and
of the white one, there was no sign,
Though the girl by your side was holding your hand,
and wore a white dress of archaic design.”

Then all of them chattered together,
until the nurse made them leave.
The angel and girl looked at each other,
neither knowing what to believe.

Meanwhile, the Concorde had come in to land,
and when it had rolled to a stop,
The ground staff simply could not understand,
what, off its nose, they’d seen drop.

Things falling off planes can be serious,
so they got over there pretty sharp,
And then, they thought they were delirious,
cos, what had dropped off was a harp.
And a label, tied tightly to it was,
with a message upon it inscribed,
Send it to the hospital of St. Thomas,
the owner’s recovering inside.

The girl, to the angel, held her hand out,
and giving her a fond glance,
Said, “I’m really glad you were there about,
we don’t often get a second chance.”

*Grahame Upham
3rd January 2014.
ηfornachos Feb 2014
He draws a man
wearing a space suit
  When he grows up,
   does he want to be an astronaut?

Then he draws the hands
  gripping to puppet-like strings
   When he grows up,
    does he want to be a puppeteer?

Later he draws the parachute
  floating in the sky
    When he grows up,

"I want to be a skydiver!"

He says,
   whom he
     wants
       to
         be.
For my student with special educational needs.
Phillip ONeil Aug 2012
SPREADEAGLED

Bucharest,



Spread-eagled and naked

in her crop circle -

this one in a sunflower field:

she’s a wheel of limbs,

some sort of a *******

lusted after by the seed heavy

flowers bowing to her curves

like drooling surgeons.



She’s finished with running,

waiting for the fading light

to join the last of her loves,

faded with processed proclamations

of undying certainty

which were a little worse for wear

after courting

and checked into intensive care

soon after.



Love thought it had

ducked its obligations,

passed again

like a heavy goods train in the night,

shunted across the border

while guards waved it on;

interested only in sleep or beer.



But this time she’s making sure

love returns,

pays its duty and dues

and hits its target.



So, splayed

aryan and vigorous,

apeing a pagan

resurrection,

she waits

for the skydiver

who – with precision

confidence – happens

to be bearing down

on her charity target,

slowly filling her

with his ***** shadow.



She sunbathes under mirrors,

she’s a real

tough nut to crack.

I repeat myself into her.
Emily Reardon Aug 2013
I know what a skydiver feels like,
though I've never actually jumped from a plane
because with you I feel I'm skydiving.
Free falling, chutes failed
Crashing into your arms, into my world-
Yearning for the touch that grounds me
better than this planet ever has or could or will.
And in your eyes I see an ocean
One I plan to swim forever, trusting that
the water will be warm and the waves never too rough.
But it's in your soul that I find home,
in a space made just for me,
the one that waited, patiently waited-
Knowing only I would fit.
Afrodita Nestor Jul 2014
I am a skydiver
a cloud walker
A time traveler
in a bodiless soul
Feeling dared
to live the dream
Feeling strong
to move mountains ahead
Feeling brave
just to keep you safe
I might be broken you know
but I am forever yours
Consider a drip,
Falling from a faucet.
An effortless glide to the sink,
Plunging into the drain.
Twisting,
Turning,
Tumbling.
A skydiver’s free fall,
With out his chute.
A direct flight,
And then – the curve,
Hard,
Full,
Yucky,
Ding – ****, “ It’s the plumber he’s come to fix the sink.”
grace Jun 2015
"what do you think I should do?"
you looked in between your fingers and said to me
don’t be her cigarette
don’t let her light you up when there’s nothing to do and
put you out once she’s bored.
don’t be the aftertaste of chemicals in her mouth.
don’t be the black **** she spits onto the sidewalk.
don’t be convenient.
don’t be one of twenty in a pack of Marlboros.
so I left her.

you always knew what to say.
I never would have guessed that two months later
I would call you crying to say goodbye
hoping you would at least make a half assed attempt to care
with my phone in my left hand
and a handful of pills overflowing in my shaking right,
I never could have guessed you would’ve answered
with a complaint about how I woke you up.

I landed in the E.R.
like a skydiver lands in the ocean—
fumbling to unbuckle yourself from the parachute
sinking heavy in the salt water
being dragged down by the very fabric that was supposed to save me
trying to claw your way back up to the surface
like desperately clawing at the ceiling of your coffin
like lungs about to burst
like vision blurred
I was drowning
the thing that was supposed to save me
sunk me.
I sat under the florescent lights
that first night
wondering if you had called back
knowing you hadn’t
the whole week I picked at the white bracelet on my wrist
“female, 5’6”, 115 pounds, INPATIENT.”
While wondering if you cared
but knowing you don’t
But hoping you did
because it’s hard to hear for months the
“I’m not going anywhere
I love you
I’m right here
Call whenever you need it
at 3 in the morning or at 3 pm
you don’t need a reason to call if you
want to call just to hear my voice call.
we have something special
and I hope we never loose it
you’re my best friend
I was meant to have met you”—
*******.
You were my parachute.

The message I had from you
when I got discharged from the psych ward was:
“I have a lot going on and won’t be able to reply much.”

You always know what to say.

You pulled me under
you, heavy fabric
you, life-saving-invention
you, malfunctioned *******.
you—chain-smoker.
I have been one of twenty in her pack of Marlboros.
And now I’m one of twelve in your pack of Camels.

I've since quit smoking.
shipwrecked Nov 2020
i've been jumping in front of trains lately

asking myself if it's really worth the risk

the way a skydiver looks at the ground miles away and wonders if today is the day it doesn't work out

while you're halfway across the country by now, leaving this all behind

i've been jumping in front of trains lately

wondering what the hell it will take for you to see the pain you left inside me

if I could just find the right thing to prove to you that I'm dying

maybe then you'd come back home
11/12/20 | 2:47pm
Olivia Kent Oct 2014
Seeing a vessel.
A catcher of fishes.
Espies another catcher of fishes.
These little fellows are destined for dishes.
Crew watching the crying ones.

The gulls as they rise.
Screaming wildly, they're on fire with excitement.
Gulls watch the Herrings, as they're breaching the foam.
Flapping and flipping, they're struggling to breathe.
The trawler man in the South westerly squall.
Struggling to cling to the slippery deck.
Tries hard not to fall.
He's used to it.
Another dollar.
Another day.
Only way to scoop his pay.
He's landing his fish.
Amid the squawking and bombing.
Keen and mean.

Tatty old trawler, chugs into the safe haven of harbour.
Today's catch thrown onto the dockside.
A different gull swoops.
A sly diving skydiver,
He's diving for dinner.
Never a loser.
Always a winner.
(C) Livvi
Amelia Louise Nov 2013
So I fell.
Recklessly,
headlessly,
in all of the ways I said I wouldn't.
I fell deep
and hard
and fast.
Like the skydiver who's cord won't pull.
Like the traindriver who's car is full
I moved too quickly.
There was no time to stop and realize
this could never end well.
Whether now or in twenty years.
And all I have done is postpone the expiration date.
It hurts sometimes.
Especially when I realize the way I miss you
now
is nothing compared to the way I will miss you
then.
The day you lock that door for the last time will
**** me inside.
I gave you the code
to everything about me.
My fantasies, my family.
My deepest fears, my future dreams.
The words I speak will form the key that allows you to unlock me.
Leaving my heart broken open,
spilling all my tokens of
rejection and affection.
All my lifelong infections in
my lungs
my heart,
my brain.
I don't hold things back from you because I
can't.
I can't be anything but my crazy, needy, sad, scary
self, when i'm with you.
But recently, that isn't true.
I have been bottling everything.
Saving it for the perfect moment when
I could say it
and you could own it.
And that moment hasn't come.
It is no where in sight
and that makes me run from
feelings
like these
that I have for you.
I keep thinking an end is the right thing to do
but something in me won't give up on you.
Some part absolutely must refuse
my heart in letting go of you.
And I
am *******
terrified,
that this thing might be really true.
But I can't shake the feeling it isn't.
What is it about you that you keep hidden
that drives me along in my endless mission
to stay with you?
And will I find it
before you find out
that
everyone leaves eventually.
Luka Love Jan 2013
Sharp darts
Spits barbs
Cut heart
To bleeding shreds
That no meds can cure
Torn in two
Push pull
Stay or go
It's a lose lose
Suffering waits around every turn
So I'll misspend my soliloquies here
Pour my bleeding heart out to nobody in particular
For no reason more particular
Than to not do so might **** me
Spill me out on the pavement
Like a skydiver with 16,000 feet
And no rip cord
Although nowhere near as fast
A long protracted fate awaits
Death by a thousand cuts
jenny linsel Jan 2017
Sitting very quietly, looking at a blank page
Prompted me to pen a poem about toys that were all the rage
I had some wooden jigsaw blocks when I was only two
In a wooden  box with a shiny brass clasp
And a picture of Winnie the Pooh

I remember at the age of six, when I was given some stickle bricks
Plastic shapes so colourful, with brushes of small plastic fingers
Making a train of red, yellow and green, the memory of it still lingers
Then at the age of seven, I remember ‘coming a cropper'
When dared by my cousins to bounce up the street
On their big and orange space-hopper

When I was eight, my favourite toy was a plastic daredevil skydiver
Many parachute jumps from the top of the stairs, that guy was a true survivor
When I was nine, the Spirograph, a drawing toy based on gears,
Was my favourite toy to play with, watching marvellous patterns appear

At ten years old I found building with Meccano lots of fun
Metal strips and gears and nuts and bolts, invented in 1901
When I was eleven the Rubik’s Cube was really all the rage
With coloured squares, six sides of nine, a puzzle for any age

At the age of twelve, Shinsai  Mystery was my fave
Two eight-hinged polyhedra could be folded into many shapes
At the age of thirteen, my baby brother was born
His favourite toy was Lego, my love of building things was reborn
There are many toys of yesteryear, would take ages to mention the rest
But for me, after all these years, Lego will always be the best
I feel cold,
broken and old,
forgotten, sold,
tossed aside like a bad piece of meat.
Overdue,
expired,
and in a way,
underappreciated.
Wasted.
Used up.
Like an old tube of toothpaste,
or an eraser to small to hold onto,
it's shavings spread across the universe.
I know there is more,
more to me.
Potential lost,
in a carcass tossed,
into a burning fire.
Hate,
no desire,
and a fear of what I could become.
But what could I become if I tried?
A philosopher,
a hero,
a story untold.
A skydiver,
a tree climber,
or maybe just an *******.
I could be a world,
a world of possibilities.
Or I could be nothing,
lost in infinity.
But I'll never know,
guess I'll be nothing.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Kayla Nov 2017
Him
Everything he does
To the way he talks
And the way he laughs
Every little things makes me fall
Fall even more in love with him
In love with him
Like I’m a skydiver jumping from the greatest heights
Every little thing he does
Reminds me why
Why I fall in love with him
Over and over again
I love him for who he is
Nothing will ever change that
It's not about my boyfriend.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Serafina was a skydiver
And she was always falling.

Jimmy was her instructor
And the next in line.

"The thrill of love," she said,
"Is about how high you can climb."

If the moment's spent
She parachutes out.

A risk,
No doubt.

But on she plays,
Crossing her fingers

This idée fixe
Never comes crashing back to earth.
Inspired by the Interpol song title, "Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down."
kmr Jan 2020
A slow fall,
A skydiver
Without a parachute.
A straight plunge,
A meteorite
Crashing to the ground
Engulfed in flames.
What will it be,
This time around?
Will it drag me down slowly,
And force me to watch
My own self destruction?
Will it grab on
And force me down
In a moment
That’s faster than a blink?
So abrupt,
That it takes me a moment
To understand
Exactly what happened
When I wake up
Surrounded by the wreckage?
This is a re-upload of an old poem. I'm going back through and fixing my poems. Rewording them, fixing spelling and wording mistakes, etc. It's been maybe a year and a half since I stumbled upon this website and my writing has already changed so much.
sandra wyllie Jun 2022
like the cow over the moon
like the horse jumping the hurdle
you make my blood curdle
like an athlete vaulting the high bar
I've pushed you out of my head this far

I’m so over you
like a skydiver descending in a parachute
flying in the air
everything’s little up here

I’m so over you
I tell myself over and again
we aren't friends
and go to the ends of the earth
to show it
but sometimes I just blow it
Simone Oct 2022
When the rainbow showings down-and-out for the treetop to drinker and breather in the foggy thick airbrick,
Do you think it thinks of where it is from. Do you think it knows that the droppers it cleanses itself in falls thousands of footballs uninterrupted to meet and disperse at the touchdown of its leaves and waits for each one. Do you think the tearaways of the skydiver fall to the earthquake with comforter or feast?
Bryan Mahata May 2020
You're a renowned marathon athlete
With firm,earthly ties
Myself an avid skydiver
Prefers motion,is better when he flies
But I believe soon we shall meet
Halfway, when I parachute down
And you stop to take a breather
For a short moment

— The End —