Poetry Blogs (fly)
poemagraphic on On A Day That Is Rare The Past Claimed Itself As The Present (18 minutes ago)
Jeannette Polski on On A Day That Is Rare The Past Claimed Itself As The Present (35 minutes ago)
a haphazard weaving
of unclear intention
the drone of annoyance
the beating of
full spectrum wings
of attempt after attempt
to get through the glass
of the window
and reach the free domain
of the out there
Tuesday 19th May 2020 4:07 pm
Let the dreamless boy to cry
If his wish to fly has gone
How his tears going to dry
If he stays far of sun
Ask dreamless boy be awake
That the dream, is a part of us
Tell him: "think of a better talk"
And to change the dark glass
Help dreamless boy to be here
And clear his negative thought
Once he comes to hear or share
He will enjoy to dream in a boat
Monday 15th April 2019 7:25 pm
When the Sky is dark blue
And the Dawn becomes true
Just pray, same as I do
May my wish touches you
When sun rises in the Sky
And the birds ready to fly
Just remember what I say
We'll meet, surely, in Mumbai
When you stay lonely at night
And you wear your lovely white
Just be sure I'm always right
You're lovely dream on sight
Thursday 4th April 2019 8:31 pm
She wanted to fly high
But was afraid to fell from the blue sky
She longed for someone
To come along her way
To guide her throughout
No matter what the world says
She would believe in miracles
She was never afraid to dream
If only that someone showed up
She would have been living free
Chained in the shackles
She longed to breathe
Eventually that someone sho...
Tuesday 15th January 2019 1:25 pm
We Belong Here
Oh how we fly up away from the earth
A great nice happy feel good joyous rapture
Letting go of the ground's grip to ascend
Up into the blue blue blue where God lives
Along with Mother Nature and her elements
Nothing but beauty exists here in all ways
Ferocious to sublime to indifferent it's all here
Up where the angels live higher than cloud number nine
Thursday 29th March 2018 5:44 pm
This poem is a reverie and contemplation of my mother.
Time and Windows
If the past is a tattered old book,
then why am I a ghost
at my mother's window,
so clear I can sense her mystery,
and her brown eyes, so alive?
Look, I can fly to her
through the high windows
of my memory
until I'm so close that she disappears,
and the curtain flutters silently.
Friday 29th December 2017 10:44 am
Today my heart felt a blow,
By a view so divine.
I let my emotions flow,
Like a 30 year old wine.
There it was in that tiny box,
With pulses of energy shooting through,
That blurry image came across,
Like the inside of a Great Gray Kangaroo.
I felt her hand touching mine,
Held her hand - fingers entwined,
Watching my angel wriggle and shine,
With the life of Us combined.
Tuesday 17th November 2015 12:31 pm
I'm a homeless fly
destined to die
destitute on the sidewalk.
No cakes for me on the kitchen side,
no conspiring against humans with my bride.
Left jilted by the absence of bathroom jihad.
Everyone speaks of the house fly,
they speak of it as a pest.
But all I have is a piss-stained alleyway
to truly call my nest.
I subsist on sick ...
Saturday 7th July 2012 4:07 pm
I fly through the mountain valley chasing my own shadow
at five hundred miles an hour, on a knife edge
turn I fly around a rock outcrop, g-force crushing me down.
A feeling of being alive lasts forever as time stands still
in a microsecond, for I am on a wing and a prayer,
flying for freedom in a stolen fighter plane.
I have no guns or missiles to...
Friday 11th May 2012 6:29 pm