This Poem was Submitted By: Michael Bird On Date: 2007-04-27 07:38:31 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!
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Copyright © April 2007 Michael Bird
You once slipped the surly bonds of Earth
Danced the skies on silvered wings
Chased the wind and flew
Where eagles dare not
But now you are a broken bird
Thrown in a scrap pile
Like so many other castoffs
I saw and felt your beauty
As you lay there in that pile of rubble
With great hopes and dreams
Of restoring you
So that once again
You`d be all shiny and new
When I touched your skin
I felt the wind rushing by so fast
It felt like I was flying next to you
I could hear the whine of your turbine
As it spooled up for flight
I felt the heat from your white hot exhaust
Searing everything in it`s path
The pulsing and throbbing of your mighty engine
Was quite evident when the afterburner lit
But,alas, your restoration
Was never meant to be
I never will know anything about you
Your tail number,your age
Or anything of the pilots that guided you
On your many flights into the clouds
Your destiny,it seems
Is to become someones lawnmower or barbeque grill
Yet,it would be most fitting and appropriate
If you would end up as new parts
For other aircraft
And once again
Soar where eagles dare not
The wind rush against your skin
Sadly,the death ofn an F-16 fighter jet
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-04-30 06:38:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66667
Perhaps you did not get to restore this 'bird' poet but in reality you certainly gave it one last flight with this one...........you have allowed readers to not only see this majestic piece of work fly once more soaring where Eagles cannot go but you further allowed for the engine to be heard, for the wind to be felt, for the heat to warm our hearts and thus we can create our own pilots that flew this one on so many missions......well done and welcome home.....you have been missed. God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-04-29 11:41:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Michael, I would have left off the note. This would have been in better keeping with
how broad the context applies to the reationship your images have with so many other
"piles of disgard".
Appreciation of your poems comes easily to anyone that has seen the fields, river bends,
and piles of disgarded planes, tanks, ships...anything once proud by purpose now reduced
Not a footnote away is ourselves and the "scrap pile" we fear ourselves becoming...even
to those near and dear. This somber aspect of life and your poem is always with those
that must face life with mortality bearing down upon their future.
The almost sentience you extrapolate to the F-16 by offering what experience it had
shared with pilots, "The wind rush against your skin", "Your destiny", "the whine of your
turbine", "The pulsing and throbbing...", "your beauty"...all grant this aspect to the mix.
I've noticed instead of flights of imagery you sustain your poetic insights better through
the selection of how you relate the context of story and blending of description into an
almost dramatic core, here, that of an almost Ozymandias irony.
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-04-27 11:22:08
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.61111
Hi Michael....I just did an in-depth crit of this poem, hit the wrong key and zapped it out...I hate it when that happens! I am really in awe of this poem. It is clever and innovative and speaks of a tradegy but somehow you managed to give this broken jet life. You have used a plethora of descriptive words and try as I might I can't pick a favorite as that would do an injustice to the remainder of the poem. So let it suffice to say that I love this poem and the way in which you wrote it....a standing ovation for this one. Glad to see you posting here again.
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