Aviation poems bring the best collection of short and long aviation poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great aviation rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these aviation poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on aviation are here for you.
You will dwell in the sky, Sky is not the limit for you You were born to fly, See the world through eagle’s eye Leave your troubles on land, Take off against the winds Vistas of sky from cockpit will
Creature of the netherworld now I see you like never before Apparition – that is not me ‘Coz my journey there was smooth and nice So you can’t see but I can see. Hid yourself from the world you did
Well ever since high school I have loved you You gave me your class ring to wear which just Goes to prove you loved me too but the But those were those who were jealous of us And our love
In your domain walking with men of straw to immolate myself. If power was sacred why you did not stop the reversing of gender role? Oh, there was water on Mars streaking like the tears on your face. The apes
Words have power to light fires of passion in the soul, making unsaid words waltz in unison of the hearts. Words are breath of life, a narrow line between, the real and declared, within one’s awareness of subtle meanings. Words
whispers… in the corridor alone pillars of though brace my gait the thought of illumination permeates my very being how you had fought so hard and fierce the touch awakes my senses in columns of darkened ambers there is silence
Somewhere amidst the tangles of troubles Is hidden a pearl pure and subtle . . . That enlightens our heart To feel the untouched, unknown and unheard In which burns the flame of spirituality To reduce into ashes the crave
Can time ever relieve? The ache that inside lives. Spring and rain are things of past. Will this gloom never last? You would return any day, In hope, I stare the way. You’re still in my every prayer. Deep in
Well it’s been a long hard road To get here from where I come From but now I’m a livin’ high On the hog and the best is yet To come still you can’t judge a Book by its cover
The first time I looked up, I said wow can this be done? I had to climb this mountain where its top was above the sun. First reaction was “impossible”, but I had to try, either overcome this obstruction or
Well you say he used to and it felt so good well don’t compare me to him, I’m Not Him…I love you but I won’t live in his shadow you say why don’t you do it just every now and
There I stood between the door and the hallway And I chose to listen to the echo Of the sound my tired feet made Through the two eternal walls Which kept caving in Sometimes it’s not better to keep moving
Where is the breath That I crave so much Hiding and playing games Just beyond my reach Fingers too stiff to touch To breathe To live To need what is aloof and Teasing me to beseech The air in the
It should not have come early; the death, had insulted the terrible suffering. Shadows were lengthening. I wanted to live in infinite nothingness of the wrong time. Hope was not a perforated dimension, it was my religion. When nobody was
With fondness I recall love that was: Lyrical like the breeze that kisses my forehead, That tanned my skin is pleasant warmth! With drums and tantrums they celebrated the union of two souls, And then the matriarchs spurned the love
I turned,by chance you raised your eyes and two worlds that never met saw the other side both wondering who’s that that froze my time both pondering what was that that caught the mind we realised our wants were the
For me there is no crime so monstrous than rape, I wonder what sort of society we plan to shape. The victim feels detained in a prison with no hope to escape, I wish that these crimes be noted on
She tamed a wolf in her heart wearing turquoise in her eyes she haunts her prey, befriending nocturnal beasts she crushed their testicles for she was made a victim she sipped its juices felt the sharp aroma and slimy texture
What was that inside you which was not ready to accept the compound folly of a man? What worry do I carry tonight to my bed? An intentional leap into the very fire of mind? A virgin garden battles with
Betrayals from long-ago, Resurfaced when I saw you. Though time had past, The wounds still bleed. As if the damage, Was done yesterday! No apologies ever flowed, From your evil lips. Sympathy was never implied, All I could see was
In the republic of the broken home, Its the children, who hold fort alone, For those who sit upon the throne, Are away fighting battles of their own. Every morning they arrive at the front lines, Wearing uniforms and memorizing
Through shades of dark red embered fires, so many unfulfilled desires When orange suns and sallow skies created more than pain filled eyes That once watched tired yellow moons reach out to cast star silver runes, As they spread out
Sunsets have oft been just sunsets to me, Till we saw them as your hands clasp to mine, And thereafter all skies we ever see, Sunset or no sunset, became all fine; How like sunset is, to the falling tide,
A day of birth comes the Joker The world a perfect teacher for the beginner From four to two becomes a humble starter A novice set sail amidst pressure Floating with the tides devoid of disaster A crystal clear mind
I reminisce Easter at our home was as important as Christmas. Mom surrounded our small apartment with the song, “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” I waited on the Easter Bunny as much as I did Santa but I would wake up
This is for the kids who feel like GIVING UP, DON’T, Don’t think im telling YOU, how to live your life, I WON’T, I won’t stop until YOU know, that YOU are NOT ALONE Imagine What MOM would feel like
I’m meditating in a Boise coffee shop because I’m not writing well my thoughts are a smeary slide full of animalcules contained, self-important images that could fit into a list-poem full of suggestions that dares the reader to link meanings
Nobody likes me, everybody does too I’m not divine, neither are you. Why do you hate to hear about a daughter? And cannot make your brain broader! You have used me as a tool; Never allowed me to attend school.
If only I could fly Up and above the sky I would spread my wings and soar high And let out a soft sigh. If only I could have wings Like birds flying as they sing I would fly as
Ray by ray comes to greet me The silver lining is a blossom free In the ultraviolet garden of sea As I look at myself, what will I be Day by day goes and leaves Like beautiful and colorful flowers
I’m better now, the illness gone, I never thought it could. I met a friend, I didn’t know, he told me that I would. We will see the world together, he told me with a stare. I met a friend,
The space shrinks when moon breaks the black night. An aching flotilla does not reach home. The wait ends in your poems. Clutching at floating truths you help to save the words of predicament. Ultimately a temple walks free without
O ! Colors, the pretty muses … Come and join me – The Color of nothingness, – An empty canvas, Fit for painting To the will of thy art ! O ! Rays, the gliding fairies Advance and adorn me
The thief helped the blind man up his front steps caressed his elbow and asked about lucky numbers and did he dream about more than one thing – was there smell and touch and sound, how could he tell if
In a starry night an adolescent thought starts a rivalry. A baby moon squirms. No hour was safe from terror in dark. I climb the stairs breathlessly. The great divide deepens in hearts. Incisors bite the tongue, grey cells bleed
We are always a part of the race. The race to be everywhere. The race to be in the first place, The race to be here and there. Running behind time, Because it is always ahead of us. Running behind
And then darkness descends. Full-throated with grains of void, It descends heavily like tar Down the deepest recesses Of night. Flows into its pores, choking, Deafening, blinding the eager Dark, receptive but stiff body Of a virgin night. Deflowering it
Look at your open palms, Observe the crooked lines. They decide your journey, And your final destiny. Just close your weary eyes, Allow me to take you away. Imagination is liberating, For the ensnared spirit. Feel the tension seep out,
The Poet Turns 100 In Honor of Stanley Kunitz When my body wears to dust let the remains be language find only verbs at the core struck flints from explosive ore nouns charged with names of foes and lovers cool
If only I could be the rash, On your delicate, fair skin, That makes you want to touch, And scratch me till I subside. If only I could be the lash, Fallen from your lovely eye, That you gently exhale