On Their Holiday
The plane flew overhead,
its destination I do not know.
It raced across the blue sky
nudging clouds out of its way
as it took its passengers
far away on their holiday.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pleasant Thoughts
A holiday, a holiday,
a real chance to get away.
To catch a plane, a boat, a train,
or cruise on down the inside lane.
With different views and how-do-you-dos,
and many interesting venues.
A holiday, a holiday.
Having found a place to stay,
enjoy the sights that greet the eyes,
sea, sun and sand with clear blue skies.
All of these things can so make your break,
a time to rest and ruminate.
A holiday, a holiday,
well inland, or out in a bay.
Sail a yacht maybe. Play a spot
of golf. Then if it gets too hot,
rest beside a pool. And to cool down,
take a dip, or turn a glowing brown.
A holiday, a holiday.
Book it right now with no delay.
Choose somewhere you would like to be,
locations for serenity,
siestas out under the stars,
or ones for fun and noise in bars.
A holiday, a holiday.
There’s something that I want to say.
Have a really long super spell,
of relaxation. One can dwell
on pleasant thoughts. Troubles to quell.
Revival of body and mind,
rejuvenating humankind.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Little Soldier
For you, my little soldier,
I got you an army;
An army of little green men waiting,
Obeying every command.
For you, my little soldier,
I got you a car;
One that raced, and
Flashed by the tree.
For you, my little soldier,
I got you a plane;
A plane that flew, by
The ceiling fan.
For you, my little soldier,
I got you a letter;
One that gave blessings, and
Kept you safe.
For you, my little soldier,
This year I got you flowers;
Flowers that shone against the snow, and
kept vigil at your stone.
poem by Valerie Pratt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clouds
Overhead I see the clouds
and know that they see me.
I sometimes wonder when I see them
how it feels to be so free?
Billowy shapes of cotton
that change within my sight
also tend to change my mood
when their movement hides sunlight.
I'm caught up seeing how they change
and always try to view
what object they remind me of
and where they travel to?
I must admit I also love
to see a cloudless day.
Then the clear blue picture of the sky
I wish could always stay.
But if there must be clouds overhead
then let them all be puffy white.
Then maybe I'll see those traveling clouds
in my dreams at night.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Red Baron / Blue Max
The son of a major, Prussian nobleman
His name bestowed by a holy Roman
The war broke out, and looked to the air
24 hours of training he was there
100 miles an hour, top speed his plane would fly
and if he flew behind you, you know you're sure to die
Eighty kills, that are confirmed
While other pilots have so much more to learn
Red Baron! Blue Max! The albatross flies high
Red Baron! Blue Max! He's got you in his sights
The Red-Battle Flyer
Roll right fire
He sees no faces
The ace of aces
His British quarry flew a reckless flight
A shot from the ground took the red baron's life
He flew with honor, he flew with pride
In 1918, The battle flyer died
Chorus
The red baron...Blue max!
The albatross flies high
The red baron...Blue max!
He's got you in his sight!
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4th of July
Ahh,4th of July
A wonderful holiday for everyone in America
Tis’ the day when we got independence finally!
Fireworks on display in the sky.
Bam, there goes a star!
Whoosh, there goes a flag!
Click, there goes a heart!
Man, its fun celebrating this holiday!
Awww, fireworks are over!
Oh well, can’t wait to see the next years’ fireworks!
I’m sure it’s going to top this years’ fireworks!
I’ll always love 4th of July no matter what.
Fireworks are surely the best of this holiday for it represents our freedom!
poem by Casey Lyon
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Park Bench
Sitting on a park bench,
the fragrance of the grass
scents the fresh air.
It makes you look more closely
to everything that is there.
The beauty of the day,
white clouds, no black ones of dismay.
A breeze that bends
every leaf and petal to and fro.
Then there are the colours,
a multitude of green.
Everything assaults our senses,
every smell and flower there.
The sun is over my shoulder,
blue skies, and no clouds in sight.
As I sit here on a park bench
enjoying everything, I see.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Solidarity
The last train stopped at midnight
With the passengers!
A mechanicl fault it seems.
And an old bus towed her
To the last destination!
All the passengers and the disabled train
Gave lot of thanks to the bus.
That's all!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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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Another Imagined Betrayal
i'd perhaps see it from you point of view that when you left me
you pretentiously wore a sad face,
lying to your teeth as you try to deliver the lines of
parting,
and when the plane left and landed upon
your destination on
a perfect touchdown
another pair of arms are there
waiting for you and
you run almost hitting another passenger with
your pack
focusing on the
new lover
kissing and holding too tightly
not minding
how the other conservative passengers
react
to such a
well planned
betrayal
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Plane
when it starts to fly it is being met by this rain.
there is this strong wind ahead of us and some dark clouds
the stewardess announces said state and we are 30,000 feet
above the mountains
yes, these are the bumpy skyways.
i close my eyes. i think of you, the house, the garden, the room,
and the two dogs you are caring.
(will we crash? will this plane fall to the ground? shall we die in an instant?)
i close my eyes.
then the plane steadies. i open my eyes.
there are clear clouds. below is a wide expanse of the blue sea.
i look at the wings of the plane.
and then its wheels touch the ground.
the door opens.
it is another world for me.
i feel the importance of the ground. Its glory. Its reign now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Holiday
Holiday,
Oh what a lovely day today,
Im so glad they sent me away,
To have a little holiday today, holiday,
Holiday,
And Im just standing on the end of a pier,
Hoping and dreaming you were here,
To share my little holiday,
Lookin in the sky, for a gap in the clouds,
Sometimes I think that sun aint never coming out,
But Id rather be here than in that dirty old town,
I had to leave the city cos it broke me down,
Oh holiday, oh what a lovely day today,
I think Ill get down on my little knees and pray, thank you lord,
Thank heaven for this holiday, holiday,
Im leaving insecurity behind me,
The environmental pressures got me down,
I dont need no sedatives to pull me round,
I dont need no sleeping pills to help me sleep sound,
Oh holiday,
Oh what a lovely day today,
I think Ill get down on my knees and pray,
Thats what Ill do,
Thank heaven for this holiday,
Lying on the beach with my back burned rare,
And the salt gets in my blisters and the sand gets in my hair,
And the seas an open sewer,
But I really couldnt care,
Im breathing through my mouth so I dont have to sniff the air,
Oh holiday,
Oh what a lovely day today,
Im so glad they sent me away,
To have a little holiday.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(to all poets) Head in the Clouds
My head was up in the clouds
No daylight to be found.
White and gray clouds covered my sight
I could not see for my mind was in flight.
I looked all around and all I could see
Was the clouds covering me.
I felt like I was in a plane
And all the passengers seeing the same.
So I know I’m not the only one
Who feels this way
Millions of people go through this
From day to day.
It doesn’t matter to you what
The others are going through
Just that it’s happening to you.
You don’t like this feeling
of being up in the air
And with others your thoughts
You can not share.
Is this a sign of dementia or Alzheimer’s
Disease, And can I set myself free.
They say “ the mind is a terrible thing to lose”
It is not something that we choose.
Will I forget my loved ones
And everything that’s around
Will I stumble and fall to the ground.
Right now we still have our faculties
But for how long will that be?
So let us continue to write while we can
For tomorrow we can not plan.
Write everything that you think
See and feel, for in the future
Your mind may reel.
Head up in the clouds? Who is to say.
Until the medical fields find a better way.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holiday
Well the super models in those magazines
They've been to places that I've never dreamed
Well they look so nice out on some sandy beach
But for me I've always found it out of reach
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo I need a holiday
The hotel and life for me would be alright
We could always catch an early mornin' flight
As you treat yourself like in a movie scene
But its just another place I've never been
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo I need a holiday
I call you up on your telephone
And leave a message there since your not home
I've got to go I've got to get away
Please come and take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Last nite I dreamed I was in Sante Fe
And then went on a flight to San Jose
Well I know that you don't really like to fly
But to see the world maybe you'd like to try
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Ooooooooo I need a holiday
Ooooooooo take me on a holiday
Need a holiday
Holiday
Holiday
Holiday
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tribute to Robert Bridges
Robert Bridges
1844-1930 poet and physician
The upper skies are palest blue.
Mottled with pearl and fretted snow
With tattered fleece of inky hue,
close overhead the storm clouds go.
A glosa
The upper skies are palest blue,
the opposite of indigo.
And yet they share a common hue
as any artist’s sure to know.
The faintest cerulean blue
mottled with pearl and fretted snow.
Forever old yet always new
it changes constantly but slow.
AS frightened sheep so often do
across the sky they scatter so.
With tattered fleece of inky hue
on driven by the winds that blow
We are aware a storm is due.
Exactly when we cannot know,
we only know within our view
Close overhead the storm clouds go.
13-Sep-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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L'oiseau bleu
The lake lay blue below the hill.
O'er it, as I looked, there flew
Across the waters, cold and still,
A bird whose wings were palest blue.
The sky above was blue at last,
The sky beneath me blue in blue.
A moment, ere the bird had passed,
It caught his image as he flew.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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September Afternoon
How lovely was that autumn day,
That late September afternoon
When the sun was high in a cloudless sky,
In an ocean of heavenly blue,
Just a gentle breeze to stir the leaves
Of the garden trees, while the hum of bees
Was soothing to those who lazily dozed
In the shimmering heat that made you believe
It was really July, and only the apples
That lay on the lawn made you remember
It was now September. The mallow flowers
Were still in bloom, and butterflies
Like handkerchiefs around them fluttered
Then flew across to the buddleia bush
With its bountiful nectar-rich blossom
And now and again a quarrel broke out
When the garden sparrows chirruped and chirped
And feathers flew, but it didn’t last
For peace like a blanket floated down
While overhead the swallows swooped
And turned and wheeled in graceful flight.
Such light and warmth and teeming life
Uplifts your heart, makes your spirits sing
So glad to be a child again
At home in the bosom of good Mother Earth.
poem by Pete Crowther
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I fly away from Tanzania
I fly away from Tanzania
and as the plane turns
over Dar es-Salaam,
I see the statue
of the black man
breaking his chains
and I wonder
who is really free
in a land of poverty?
The sea is dark blue
and a flotilla of small boats
are carrying tobacco, coffee
and cotton to ships
in the deeper water.
The great country
stretches out under the plane
and the massai mara planes
looks as if it goes on
into infinity
and I plan to visit
the Serengeti National Park,
to go to Zanzibar
and to climb mount mount Kilimanjaro
when I return
Three weeks of erecting cell phone towers
flew past in a blink of a eye
and I am going home again
and the Nyasa Lake
passes like a blue sea
under the plane.
Johannesburg international is hot
and it’s the beginning of spring
and the Wimpy has got
cheap burgers
and bottomless Coke
and I drink
as if coming out of the desert
and it’s great to be back
in my own country again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Machine
The little biplane that has the river-meadow for landing-field
And carries passengers brief rides,
Buzzed overhead on the tender blue above the orange of sundown.
Below it five troubled night-herons
Turned short over the shore from its course, four east, one northward.
Beyond them
Swam the new moon in amber.
I don't know why, but lately the forms of things appear to me with time
One of their visible dimensions.
The thread brightness of the bent moon appeared enormous, unnumbered
Ages of years; the night-herons
Their natural size, they have croaked over the shore in the hush at sundown
Much longer than human language
Has fumbled with the air: but the plane having no past but a certain future,
Insect in size as in form,
Was also accepted, all these forms of power placed without preference
In the grave arrangement of the evening.
Submitted by Holt
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Dirge in Woods
A wind sways the pines,
And below
Not a breath of wild air;
Still as the mosses that glow
On the flooring and over the lines
Of the roots here and there.
The pine-tree drops its dead;
They are quiet, as under the sea.
Overhead, overhead
Rushes life in a race,
As the clouds the clouds chase;
And we go,
And we drop like the fruits of the tree,
Even we,
Even so.
poem by George Meredith
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What Children Worry About
Mommy
Mommy, mommy
what’s going on in the world today?
Mommy am I going to be OK?
I heard some kids were wearing bombs
and blowing people up..
Mommy their world is very far away.
They can’t come here, right mommy?
Am I going to be OK.
Written: July 17,2007
Daddy
Daddy, daddy
I asked mommy some questions yesterday,
and tears were in her eyes.
She’s really scared daddy,
I know the reason why.
The kids with bombs,
might be here in our schools.
They won’t listen to the rules.
Mommy is really scared that one day,
you’ll both have no choice but to send me away
Written: July 17,2007
Mommy, Daddy
Mommy, Daddy, there’s no reason to fear
I figured it out late last night.
I said the words for God to hear.
I know He knows all things
and will do what’s right,
sooo… we say the words for God to hear,
everyday and every night.
Guess what Mommy, Daddy
everything will be alright.
Mommy, why are you still crying? ? ?
Written: July 17,2007
poem by Melvina Germain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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