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Gloria's Theme Challenge#1 Flight  |
Challenge Posts
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Maryse AchongIf I could borrow angel’s wings for one day, I ‘d use them to fly straight to Heaven’s gate And hope that Simon Peter lets me enter For just a little while at any rate. I’d want to see my Father just to let him know How much we’ve missed him since he went away, Ask him to pass the word on to the others Who helped to make me who I am today. I would ask then to meet with my beloved And have a chance at last to say ‘farewell’ ‘Til my name gets to first place on that roll call That starts the tolling of that final bell. I wouldn’t dare to look upon the Face of God, That would be more than human eyes could stand; But I could mix with seraphim and cherubs, And that alone for me would be quite grand. By then it would be time for me to return To this world and to deal with earthly things, But my life would never be the same because Just for a short while I wore angel’s wings. ----- Final Flight A scheduled flight that promised no surprise, We’ll never know if he had second thoughts About his leaving; but people do what They are called to do, and so he went up; That was the last time that he would be seen; A watery grave is now his resting place. But there is comfort in the knowledge that He died while doing something that he loved; Though his body lies on some ocean bed, His spirit lives, until I too am gone. ----- Flight of Fancy In dreams I fly where’er I please To places far and near, No restraints and no boundaries, No words of caution hear; I’ve shared a cup of mountain dew With the man in the moon, Have met the sandman as he flew To earth to sing his tune. I’ve sat on banks of clouds of white Warmed by the sun’s first rays Watched birds and aircraft pass in flight I’ve had such lazy days. I’ve flown above the highest trees Have spent an afternoon Playing with butterflies and bees And even learned their tune. And free from human feet of clay, I move with so much ease I leave behind the earthly fray And fly o’er land and seas: So maybe if you listen well, Someday you’ll hear me croon, As I float over hill and dell, My favourite little tune. ----- Una Paloma Blanca "Una paloma blanca, I’m just a bird in the sky" That’s all these creatures ever want to be, And given the gift of sweet song and wings to make them fly, No one should make them lose that liberty. "Una paloma blanca over the mountains I fly", The lyrics of the song say everything ; They expect to have their freedom until the day they die, Not caged whilst someone urges them to sing. "Once I had my share of losing, they locked me on a chain", Man’s ways are sometimes hard to understand, And though some lessons have been learned still time and time again He strives to grasp that bird within his hand. "They tried to break my power, oh I still can feel the pain", Just let birds do the things that they do best, To soar through open friendly skies, to sing their sweet refrain, Until its time to return to their nest . And in our dreams we streak through midnight skies to catch the stars, Where ‘neath the moons soft glow we dance and play, Perhaps touch heaven, and cavort with Jupiter and Mars, ‘Til sunrise marks the start of a new day. back to list |
Kathy AndersonYour thoughts come to me on many wings, The feathered, the leathered, angel'd... Those man made silver steeds of sky Come through the clouds as I exhale And cry loudly, arms upraised, too, To pour your thoughts for you in verse... In terse replies of knowledge seen In minds eye flying through mine eye. The many birds that flock to me Find the seeds of their unlabored fruit... In me, in mind, collective flight Brough forth as I uplift their power. ----- Vaporous Stratus Oh god, oh god, release thou me, Make haste that Jupiter and Venus leave not a trace of fate Within the stratosphere of days, That no prayer finds wing to attend The mate dance of wind and waters. This rain has no place on earths plane, Only quick release of thunder From a distant galaxies sun, No way for sky to kiss my ground. back to list |
Gloria CarpenterA thunderbolt proclaims supremacy, Resounding, as the eyes of darkness pierce. A moment split in stillness to conduct a rage, unleashed from tempest’s restless soul. Awaken, half-dead things, and join the flight! On wings, uplift once more before decay. Absorb its freeing strength; inhale its power; Connect again to unifying force. Now, soar above in whirls of mountain white ~ Become this night, where dark and light are one. ----- Guided Flight Oh, show me how you learned to glide in raised relief, enhanced with light, unruffled by the surging tide, serenity within your sight. I see your canvas opened wide, soft traces etched by wings of white. Oh, show me how you learned to glide in raised relief, enhanced with light. It is my wish to fly beside, to share your vision from such height. I look to you to be my guide, a fledgling on a virgin flight. Oh, show me how you learned to glide in raised relief, enhanced with light. ----- Held Hostage My flights of fancy take me far, for I have always flown! How else to travel when you’re young, before the truth is blown? I used to fly with wings outstretched, until I heard, "Sit still". And so I flew inside a book ~ but not against my will, For there I found another world of fantasy and fact, with many books piled up beside in castle towers, stacked. I flew, I soared beyond the skies where all my dreams fulfill. My books have held me hostage since ~ but not against my will. ----- My Music My music lives in silence, on a breeze. I taste it in the gentle mist that clings with dew upon the lip of morning’s tease ~ on whistles through the trees a whisper brings. A gathering of whirling, skirting peaks in wild abandon dancing to dismiss all cares, as zephyr plays and wisdom speaks. In essence, it is spirit. It is bliss. My music lives in silence, flying free with lightest touch, a trace of feather brush; or pulses with the passion of the sea, its heart in rhythm, thrashing with the rush, until it crests beyond mortality. It carries me to soar where love exists on higher planes of peaceful harmony ~ In essence, it is spirit. It is bliss. My music lives in silence, to enthrall. It flourishes to reach the depths within, with floods of bursting song it breaks the wall, emotion spilling tears where tides begin, absorbing all, through every single pore, and yet a calmness rests in reminisce, as letting go is key to heaven’s door. In essence, it is spirit. It is bliss. back to list |
Lorraine DafneyRocket's destination mathematical as astronauts anticipate their blast off ----- On a Wing and a Prayer Your seat is by the window The clouds are putting on a show Acres of farmland black dirt Looks beautiful below You can almost count Each crop row by row All is going well the Flight is on time You doze off after eating Satisfied all is fine Suddenly you hear Fasten your seatbelt Emergency landing In the middle of your bliss And realize it was the Onboard movie As you say a prayer and Thank Jesus ----- Small Squadron Orange and black and small they fly between my plants then dine upon all nasty bugs swarming swarming in thousands they're no match for my lady bugs who will consume them before flights to flights to anywhere what a wonderful way to live to soar to destinations freely ----- Wings A white bird soared Like the white peace Dove Aboard a crew of Seven today Landed in heaven Had set out to explore And perform tests To benefit the future of Man in space For the entire human Race Where opportunities Remain like open Doors Sadly on February 1,2003 We were left to acknowledge Your final destination Home, without you Your bravery,courageous, Souls and hearts Will sail on and on And on As we salute our Nation’s flag At half mast To those who lost Their lives on this Day Seven angels received Their wings They earned them And will continue To fly In Honor of the Twentieth Anniversary this Week. back to list |
Kevin McKinneyBring every flag down to half mast, Let every heart take flight; For fourteen heroes braved their last Bold challenge into that dark night. All great endeavours require our best And they were best of all; And nothing puts our will to test As when we see them fall. They knew the danger as did we, But still, it's hard to take; They came so close to pulling free, Your heart just wants to break. Yet there is some consolation For we here left behind; There is a brand new constellation In the sky above mankind; Fourteen stars of radiant beauty All beckoning to us; follow. Two squadrons there remain on duty, Whose epitaph will not ring hollow. In Memorium of the Challenger and Columbia disaster ----- Nesting Pair I can't tell if he's coming or going, It doesn't much matter why; The feeling is sweeter than the knowing Of which direction he flies. If he's leaving, it goes without saying It's only a short goodbye; When he returns with food, he'll stay And they'll sing of his time in the sky. If he follows the sun to its setting, He'll still be stuck in his track; In the dim gray twilight of regretting Not being here when it comes back. There's no finer device than roaming For strengthening character; So long as he tempers it with homing, They'll be birds of a feather. ----- Upwardly Mobile We do not demonstrate this trait from birth; 'Twas not among god's gifts in paradise When fewer creatures flew than walked the earth; How is it man has mastered this device, And how incalculable is its worth To teeming masses lifting up their eyes? Defying gravity and likewise, death, A leap of faith first takes place in the mind. Now see the great lizards reinvented; Cast in stone, when once they had no rivals; By re-engineering they've ascended Skyward in a triumph of survival. What new found admiration must attend The myraid departures and arrivals At great gatherings of fine feathered friends, And leaps of faith that take place in the mind. A flight of sparrows startled from their lunch Delights the inner child in everyone; Yet fledglings are like arrows I've a hunch; They'll not leave the nest without persuasion; They need a push to activate the launch, And they miss the target on occasion; As near to freedom, Icarus flew once, That leap of faith first took place in his mind. And so it was with Leonardo's dream; He saw the view, but he was born too soon; Three centuries later, he'd love to have seen The view from Montgolfier's balloon; Till a simple bicycle building team, Loosed our bonds and we landed on the moon. Now that we've slipped the solar system's seams, Each leap of faith must take place in the mind. back to list |
Leny RooversWetness still clings on fragile strings- gossamer wings slowly unfold. Two huge brown eyes are her disguise; she lifts and flies, her wings red gold. First there’s dancing- males are prancing, sideways glancing in gentle sway. In flight, she waits to find her mates; she will have dates- and eggs to lay. On juicy leaves she gives- receives; mission achieved, colours ablaze. Her eggs now grow neat in a row- they’ll undergo cycle’s next phase. ----- The serious business of flying Perched on the nest, small fledglings look around; wings and hearts flutter, fright of flight prevails till instinct kicks in- shifting swiftly, go! Nearby trees bring safety, proud looks around. The air can be trusted, with wide-spread tails they lift off again; each flight teaching flow. When migration comes near, each year around, wings have to be strong, to follow its trails. To feed and get fat, is a serious show- a life-saving business, no less, get round! On days filled with eating, they sing sweet tales, I listen enraptured, seated below. Each flying class takes them further away- my heart follows gladly, yet I must stay. back to list |
Ryter RoethicleA380 of Singapore from distant Frankfurt Speeding in the stratosphere on its way Singapore With a cargo of tourists with cameras And businessmen from Munich trying sell their wares. Stately Qantas Jumbo with the Flying Kangaroo On its way to Los Angeles in the far US of A. With families for Disney world and Hollywood And drunken football players who have not grown up. Crowded Virgin Airlines with maintenance overdue Thrashing down to Melbourne for the Commonwealth Games With a cargo of sports fans from all over the world And bags of tourist dollars spent in the name of sport. (With apologies to John Masefield) ----- Flight (Canzonetta) God gave Angels and birds the gift of flight Leaving man to stomp and root around. To many creatures he gave this right Yet we evolved and still stayed downed. I look each day and watch the avians play Identifying them all by call, by sound. These calls tell me how they enjoy the day Scornful of us mortals held to ground. As the evening falls listen to their calls And bragging of the adventures found. Of sink and holes and huge thermals, With balanced wings they flew around. Reaching to the black bottomed cloud Then flying along streets that now abound A final descent into the evenings shroud Scornful of us mortals held to ground. As the evening arrives the bats come alive, You hear them call out their unique sound. Blind they are, yet they feed and survive And in nights darkness they fly around. Whilst mortals sleep, their sonic beep Aids flight for which they are renowned. With mornings creep they return to their keep, Scornful of us mortals held to ground. ----- Flight Memory All my flight checks are complete And I signal to my mate to hook me on. The bloke holding my wing waves all clear The batsman swings the signal to take in slack. 3000 metres away the winch driver puts it into gear And watches the red bat being waved As he sees the bat start swinging overhead He opens the throttle and pulls the glider towards him. The wingman has walked away there is enough speed The pilot is in charge now. The batsman is no longer needed either, Together they watch the aircraft gather speed away from them. The driver and the pilot work as one Their only link, the steel cable being wound back onto the reel As it pulls the aircraft inexorably faster and faster Then the driver sees the separation as the craft slowly rises. The angle of lift is perfect as I watch my airspeed indicator And see my altimeter steadily rise, My hand is ready to release the cable should there be a break. Or waiting till the height is right. I can see the black bottomed clouds forming Over by Point Cook and know there is lift there I pull the release lever twice and bank right Heading to the clouds and the lift. If I don’t find lift here, I know it will be a short flight Too often felt here on the Laverton field But I’m in luck and I feel the lift Carefully banking I start to circle in the thermal. Weak at first closer to the ground Then I see faster and faster my rise Until I feel the cold and see the black bottom Of the cloud that has helped me here. Now is the time for us to part The silence surrounds me as I follow the street of clouds And know they will be there a while I look around and see all is clear. I push the stick forwards to gain speed Swapping height for speed till it’s enough And pull back and feel my craft climb Yes I feel as she is still in control over the top. The loop now complete I still have height And pull back this time as I reach the top I feel the stall and kick in the turn That caused so many English deaths. Once again I hack into the lift Joining the birds that see me no different Except for my size and weight And that I have no way to rejoice with them. The cold tells me it is the end And once again I soar between the clouds. I see the afternoon sun moving west Knowing now it is my time. I pull on the stick and as speed falls away I feel the unbalance that I have caused And as I feel the stall, I kick in the spin And spiral towards the Earth, My swift and scenic descent is nothing a bird would do No bird would give away such joy But I am mortal and bound by rules and time And so I centre the stick and level out. Downwind leg I can see that the day is gone On base leg I count, I am the last one. A reluctant finals towards the crafts home Then one final check and I am gone. ----- Like a Lark Ascending Like a lark my soul ascends Gently at first in a new rise of warmth That is created by newly admitted love, Reluctant and nervously given. Then like the lark rising higher Love sounds in a series of arpeggios Sounding out on each apogee Trust is won and in time is given. Souls unite in a duet of flight The crescendo of our movement arrives The lark that is my soul fly’s higher still Giving voice in a soaring cadenza. In time my soul descends to Earth But not alone nor will ever be again. ----- Lovers Question How long is it since we learned to fly? One night so long ago I held and kissed you And knew from that moment on that I would Hold you and kiss you again and again and again. Now all foolish thoughts will leave the scene So together we may ascend on winged thought And look down and pity other poor mortals Who's love will ne'r teach them flight like ours . The sun will bless and welcome our love each morn And the stars will be our playground each night. ----- My Wings My wings shall ride the silken morn, Patterning the silent and sunlit sky, Under Cancer and Capricorn, Flying where no bird can ever fly. My wings cover the tapestried earth, And the shot blue silk of the sea, Flying high see the sun give birth, With the world below in my apogee. My wings cover the entire world, From over the conquered mountain, Where cloud pennants are unfurled, Over which I ruled as sovereign. My wings now turn for what is home, Whispering and singing out in flight, The day is done, no time to roam, Descending now towards the night. ----- Swan of Turin Tonight Sibelius shall be my choice, The lights are low the wine tastes good. A lonely oboe makes felt its voice, As the Swan of Turin floats from the woods. With the strings I float amongst the stars, An interlude that made the heavens melt. My half closed eyes wish all this was ours, With its eternal floating presence felt. The music softens as if to fly away, And cellos sound, like they are from afar. As if welcoming softly the close of day, The violins call out to the Evening Star. The music now symbolises the night, Daytime creatures into their nests melt. All avians have long since ceased their flight Still with eternal floating presence felt. ----- Time To Close I decided tonight that I will fly no more, My feet will stay planted firmly on the ground. My heart is no longer set on foreign forays Where mind is tired from analysing what is said And correctness of speech in alternate tongues. I know that man is a fool and an eternal optimist Who believes what he says, but deviate minds Read into things and put slants where level exists Converting truths because of previous lies told. I know it’s time to close the Hanger Doors. back to list |
WillowdownClouds like galleons, clouds like sheep clouds like snowy Himalayas. As a child I flew my balloon between them marvelling at the filigree bridges built from high-cliffed city to city tiered and buttressed empires of dream and beautiful maidens hurling cloud flowers down at my basket as I passed between their balconies following the Sky-river in its inexorable sweep towards the sunset. But as I grew older my belief in balloons slowly faded and my imagination became more earthbound - clouds became mere receptacles of wateer vapour and I ceased to give them any thought save when they unleased their aqueous cargo over me and I raised and shook my fist at them, completely forgetting the beautiful Princess Imzelda in her Palace of a Thousand Minarets where, once every seven hundred years a phoenix comes to lay its single egg hatching it in the prismatic flames of its own self-immolation. Ah, what a petty thing is the mind of a man that prefers the steam combustion engine to the winged flight of the hippogriff, that travels from airport to identical airport in his claustrophobic planes without ever once putting in at the majestic Sky Cities of Helios or Empyrion, drinking beer than tastes of aluminium or tin when he could be sipping frost-chilled sherbet with astonishing sylphs and djinn of the Air, listening to that marvellous music gandharvas play upon the harps and cellos of the wind and the fabulous lies of which Sky-poets sing... ----- Guided Flight O for the wings of a dove then I might fly above this ocean my little breast bursting with song a happy gleam in my eyes. Would you be surprised to find me on your windowsill, a vagrant poet dropped from the skies? Some birds sing of endless flight some birds dream of angels, some sing in a Cockney accent some look like Clark Gable. To sit and pick a grain of corn from your outstretched hand, weary from my journey would be for me to drink and dine at some High Lady's table. O for the outstretched wings of a dove a good map and a compass - with the promise of crab-meat and dumppplings, there's much I could accomplish... back to list |
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