A Fated Sky
Dedicated to the aviators of two major wars.
They flew across a fated sky
in wings of wood.
Never knowing if
they would fly another day.
Their life expectancy
was not very great
as they winged away at dawn
to start another day.
It was not only other warbirds
they had to worry about,
but ground forces
as they shot at them from below.
However, they are remembered
as brave and courageous men.
Who dared a fated sky
in their wings of wood.
18 March 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Teased The Air
They teased the air with their wings,
rising up towards the sun
and there among the clouds they hid
as a new dawn had begun.
The enemy started their dawn patrol
not knowing of this day of reckoning
that stood ahead of them
ten minutes after they rose into the sky.
Out of the sun,
they came like dragons breathing fire.
Diving like a hawk
on its prey below.
The sky was now filled
with angry birds with wooden wings.
They darted across the sky in fights
which some would never return.
Spiralling smoke herald,
another victory for someone
and for the other
life no more.
Their names are recorded
on monuments forever
depicting their victories
and their demise.
As the years pass on
how much do we remember
of these men who teased the air
with their wooden wings
as they flew across the sky.
18 August 2011
Author’s Note:
This was written as a dedication to all the brave aviators on both sides during the First World War when flying was still in its infancy.
D.V.H.
poem by David Harris
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Sun Bird
The sun bird flew high and high
for its destination was sun
but as it drew near its wings did burn
from the heat of the sun but it did not die
it fell down on the earth
and waited till its wings took rebirth
it again flew only to burn its wings and fall
towards the earth but its hope stood atall
for mythology says its divine love for sun
has given it power not to die from burn
so with patience infinite again it flew
with hopes full and wings anew
towards the sun only to burn
but it got up again and flew
towards the sun
towards its destination
poem by Anjesh shekhar
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A Flying Cow
Millie Moo Cow was grazing
in a field on day
when her fairy godmother
came to pay a visit to her.
Millie you are a good old cow
and your days are not yet through.
If I had wish for you
what would that wish be fore?
Millie chewed at her cud
and thought for a bit.
I would like a pair of wings
so I could fly like the birds
and then I could find the green fields
with all the tenders shoots to graze upon.
The fairy godmother waved her wand
and on Millie, two beautiful wings grew.
Millie flapped her new wings
and into the sky, she flew.
As she, few around she caused quite a stir.
Looking down she remembered
all those who had tormented her.
Now she had wings she could get her revenge.
She dived and did a somersault
and then began her bombing run
laying on them cow pats big and round.
People ran for cover as Millie flew on by.
Tiring of her games in a green field, she landed.
Her fairy godmother wasn’t pleased.
You were only supposed to look for green fields
not go bombarding people with your poo.
For your bad behaviour,
I’m taking your wings away from you.
She waved her magic wand again
and Millie’s wings were gone.
The moral of this story is
when they say do unto others as they do unto you.
You will be punished
so go do it first.
poem by David Harris
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Broken Wings
Broken wings
Broken wings
Twirls in ballroom gowns
Echos of glory
And reminders of things lost
Broken wings
Broken wings
Only feet to help carry on now
A thousand voices
Singing the same song
Broken wings
Broken wings
Feathers litter the ground
Where the proud used to stand
Where only broken wings remain
poem by Autumn Winds
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Once I Flew
Once I flew
And it made my fingertips sing
I was more like a God than a king
Now I cant believe that was true
Once I flew
Though you dont believe me I know
You look where Im standing now
You cant believe I left the ground.
Look up to the bright blue sky
Cant you feel life passing by
If you could wouldnt you
Try to soar over everything?
All the pain this world can bring
Once I flew now Ive lost my wings
Now Im down here with you
Now Im down here with you
Once I flew
And the angels were my friends
They would grant me every whim
Now I cant believe that was true
Once I flew
Though its easy to forget
I dont seem to have managed yet.
And I dont think I ever will
Look up to the bright blue sky
Cant you feel the life passing by?
If you could wouldnt you
Try to soar over everything?
All the pain this world can bring
Once I flew now Ive lost my wings
Now Im down here with you
Now Im down here with you.
And in my dreams I am happy again
Youre in my arms and were flying
Again, flying away.
song performed by by White Town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sea Canaries
The small white whales in packs of pods
keep their pacts with us, the fated beasts.
They wail their songs and the water wavers,
and we who signed them waive our rights
to have them. Here is where they belong,
all right, and here is where I leave them:
their pale, bountiful bodies to the sea.
I see a pail of fish and I would rather
feed on palm wood than palm one up
to shed it to those seabirds. To bate the brink
of bygone beauty, I bring no bait. A thatch shed
on the shore would keep me closer. O idol
of the gulls and wingèd seagirls and idle guitar
players, paddle deep and far off from my kind
who peddle our wares like love-me-kindly petals.
Brave New World
Dying swans twisted wings, beauty not needed here
Lost my love, lost my life, in this garden of fear
I have seen many things, in a lifetime alone
Mother love is no more, bring this savage back home
Wilderness house of pain, makes no sense of it all
Close this mind dull this brain, messiah before his fall
What you see is not real, those who know will not tell
All is lost sold your souls to this brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
Dragon kings dying queens, where is salvation now
Lost my life lost my dreams, rip the bones from my flesh
Silent screams laughing here, dying to tell you the truth
You are planned and you are damned in this brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
A brave new world, in a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
In a brave new world, a brave new world
Dying swans twisted wings, bring this savage back home
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Dove
Music :presser, adamis, rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
A place without a name
Under a burning sky
Theres no milk and honey here
In the land of god
Someone holds a sign
It says we are human, too
And while the sun goes down
The world goes by
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Waves, big like a house
Theyre stranded on a piece of wood
To leave it all behind
To start again
But instead of a new life
All they find is a door thats closed
And they keep looking for
A place called hope
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
Can anyone tell me why (can anyone tell me why)
The children of the world (the children of the world)
Have to pay the price (pay another price)
And now your telling me
Youve seen it all before
I know thats right but still
It breaks my heart
Well, the golden lamb we sent
Makes us feel better now
But you know its just a drop
In a sea of tears
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
White dove
Fly with the wind
Take our hope under your wings
For the world to know
That hope will not die
Where the children cry
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na na na na
Na na
Na na na na
Na na na na na
...
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New-England Boy's Song About Thanksgiving Day
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way,
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house away!
We would not stop
For doll or top,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.
Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark,
And children hark,
As we go jingling by.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play-
Hear the bells ring
Ting a ling ding,
Hurra for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood-
No matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get
The sleigh upset,
Into a bank of snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To see little John and Ann;
We will kiss them all,
And play snow-ball,
And stay as long as we can.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple grey!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate;
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Old Jowler hears our bells;
He shakes his pow,
With a loud bow wow,
And thus the news he tells.
Over the river, and through the wood-
When grandmother sees us come,
She will say, Oh dear,
The children are here,
Bring a pie for every one.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurra for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurra for the pumpkin pie!
poem by Lydia Maria Francis Child
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderment
Then a wind blew;
And he who had forgot he moved
Lonely amid the green and silver morning weather,
Suddenly grew
Aware of clouds and trees
Gleaming and white and shafted, shaken together
And blown to music by the ruffling breeze.
Like flush of wings
The moment passed: he stood
Dazzled with blossom in the swaying wood;
Then he remembered how, through all swift things,
This mortal scene stands built of memories,—
Shaped by the wise
Who gazed in breathing wonderment,
And left us their brave eyes
To light the ways they went.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Cuckoo Clock
The cuckoo flew out of the clock
and landed on the arm chair.
It looked me in the eye and said,
“I’m not going back in there!
People expect too much of me,
going back and forth all day.
I’m not going back inside.
No! Never! No way.
The clock’s none stop ticking
has made my head feel sore
Calling ‘cuckoo’ 24-7 it’s too much,
I’m not doing it any more.
I want to breathe the fresh air,
and feel the rain and sun.
I want to be able to fly around
and enjoy proper cuckoo fun.
I should be leaving my eggs
here, there, and everywhere.
Eating lots of juicy worms,
and being free without a care.
What do you mean I’m not real
and I’m only made of wood?
Of course I am; I call out ‘cuckoo’
like every cuckoo should.
Just put me on the windowsill
and I’ll show you how I can fly.
Why..? I can’t move my wings,
no matter how much I try.
And I can’t call out ‘cuckoo’,
my ‘cuckoo’ cry has gone.
My head and body won’t move,
and my wings won’t open.
Oh dear, what am I to do?
I’m just a piece of wood.
I’ve been shaped like a bird
and my paint job’s not so good.
I’ve a spring sticking out my bottom
and my feathers aren’t feathers at all.
I haven’t a sound to call my own,
and when I try to fly I fall…
Will you please put me back in the clock?
It’s the only place I can call my home.
I’ll be happy to remind you of the time,
and I promise never again to moan.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Being philosophic about it all
reviewing one’s life
in the light of eternity and
rebirth theory and
the lostcounteenth beer
I’ll say this…
I’ll say this…
one could say –
no listen I’m being serious –
was I fated to live this life
or did I earn it
or - was I fated to earn it,
ha?
but I’ll shay thish –
maybe I didn’t deserve better
BUT (dramatic pause, points finger)
I didn’t deserve worsh…
sub specie whatsit aeternitatis
strawnery how theesh Latin tags shtick
shub shpecie aeternitatish…
hurry up please it’s time
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Marzo Pazzo
Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread,
Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn's arch
Hails re-risen again from the dead
Mad March.
Soft small flames on rowan and larch
Break forth as laughter on lips that said
Nought till the pulse in them beat love's march.
But the heartbeat now in the lips rose-red
Speaks life to the world, and the winds that parch
Bring April forth as a bride to wed
Mad March.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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How Much For Your Wings?
How much for your wings?
How much for your wings?
Well it comes and it goes
How much for your wings?
And its high and low
How much for your wings?
I can name a price
How much for your wings?
Many forget their pride
Chorus
If I were you and and you were me
Wed know
And could it be what you perceive
Is wrong?
And what I mean what wrong could be
I dont know
Im not naive but I believe
So I may grow
How much for your wings?
The soul you kiss good-bye
How much for your wings?
Watch the stars collide
How does it feel
When youre the only one?
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cuckoo
The cuckoo, like a hawk in flight,
With narrow pointed wings
Whews o'er our heads - soon out of sight
And as she flies she sings:
And darting down the hedgerow side
She scares the little bird
Who leaves the nest it cannot hide
While plaintive notes are heard.
I've watched it on an old oak tree
Sing half an hour away
Until its quick eye noticed me
And then it whewed away.
Its mouth when open shone as red
As hips upon the brier,
Like stock doves seemed its winged head
But striving to get higher
It heard me rustle and above leaves
Soon did its flight pursue,
Still waking summer's melodies
And singing as it flew.
So quick it flies from wood to wood
'Tis miles off 'ere you think it gone;
I've thought when I have listening stood
Full twenty sang - when only one.
When summer from the forest starts
Its melody with silence lies,
And, like a bird from foreign parts,
It cannot sing for all it tries.
'Cuck cuck' it cries and mocking boys
Crie 'Cuck' and then it stutters more
Till quick forgot its own sweet voice
It seems to know itself no more.
poem by John Clare
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Some People Fly
Used to be a time
We held the world.
Wrapped round our finger tips
Laughing at what others missed. someday, yesterday
The magic we felt went away.
Grow up somebody said... tell me where its gone
So I can go find it now. I cant live your way.
Go ahead without me.
Ill find my own way
Some people fly... and some of us worry about touching
The sun with wings. I know if I try Ill get where Im going,
Keeping my eyes on the sky.
The box you live within is strong and its up to you
To see beyond the comfort zone youve grown to love.
Theres more to life than that. the expectations
That you hold will keep you down and make you old
If you cant see what Im trying to say, maybe you just
Need to wear my shoes for awhile. I cant live your way.
Go ahead without me.
Ill find my own way
Some people fly...and some of us worry
Id risk it all to have wings.
I know if I try Ill get where Im going,
Keeping my eyes on the sky.
While you sit there and think about it, theres another
Unfolding their wings. I can tell you what its like, but,
Until you try, youll never see what I mean.
Some people fly...and some of us worry
Ill touch the sky with my wings.
I know if I try Ill get where Im going,
Keeping my eyes on the sky.
Keeping my eyes, keeping my eyes on the sky.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tale of the Wings
Admiration filled the air
When an angel saw its wings
She needs someone who'll care
Listening every time she sings
Opportunity comes with shyness
Believing the two are not separable
They've come to one with smiles
And flown together as they fall
Closeness almost shut the weak points
Until the breakage has come its way
Silence of suspiciousness changed the noise
And torn their hearts away
The wings are no more living
Yet the angel had gone leaving
It thought it can fly on its own
But no, not without the angel around
The angel is nowhere to be found
No mark of footsteps on the ground
No one knows if it flew on her own
Neither why she had left her wings alone
poem by Genesis Bernaldez
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All I Want To Do Is Fly
All I want to do is fly,
Be in the sky,
With all the birds.
I want to be free,
Like them,
And have wings.
I want to not worry,
About guys,
Or school.
About liking both sexes.
Or about politics,
Or about love.
I want to be free,
Fly high in the sky,
And have wings.
I don't want to worry,
About being rejected,
Or about being alone.
I don't want to worry,
About everything,
I just want to fly,
And be free.
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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