Upcoming March IBPC 2018:

Our discussion forum for topics related to writer's block, poetry, the literary arts in general, and anything else of cosmic import.
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Bernie01
Posts: 780
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Re: Upcoming March IBPC 2018:

#26 Post by Bernie01 » 06 Mar 2018, 21:35

Wings


Hiroyoshi shows a photograph;
She wears western clothes,
dark velvet, I think, to the ankles
suitable for an orchestra or ballroom;
severe jacket, an oversize brass
chrysanthemum at the lapel.

Hiroyoshi and I fly everyday;
my uniform hangs down like his
in the humid press of the jungle.

Overhead, short-waisted bitterns
wheel and fall on the yellow
canebrakes. Any puff of wind
like steam off a kettle.

Fewer pilots each meal,
he writes his sweetheart,
then sets the paper aside.
We will soon fly.

Airborne,
he calls to alert me,

Sakai,

Sakai!

our two fighters surround
an Australian Kittyhawk
in a ripe line of sky.

We fire until the plane
disappears over the soiled
mass of Port Morseby.

In our tent, Hiroyoshi
quietly reads his poem.

High-up seedless clouds are matted, ruffled white
as face powder. Sakai signals “go home.”
A motor is hardly needed to pull my plane toward base;
I set the fuel lever to “Lean,” edge the cockpit open.
Fresh air sweeps around me and I am a flight scarf free
on wind, my only friend goes ahead and I follow
rising on the incense of chrysanthemum ash.




My original work, unpublished and not representing another Forum.

mojave216bernard@aol.com


bernard henrie

Bernie01
Posts: 780
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Re: Upcoming March IBPC 2018:

#27 Post by Bernie01 » 06 Mar 2018, 21:49

Wings

Hiroyoshi shows a photograph;
She wears western clothes,
dark velvet, I think, to the ankles
suitable for an orchestra or ballroom;
severe jacket, an oversize brass
chrysanthemum at the lapel.

Hiroyoshi and I fly everyday;
my uniform hangs down like his
in the humid press of the jungle.

Overhead, short-waisted bitterns
wheel and fall on the yellow
canebrakes. Any puff of wind
like steam off a kettle.

Fewer pilots each meal,
he writes his sweetheart,
then sets the paper aside.
We will soon fly.

Airborne,
he calls to alert me,

Sakai,

Sakai!

our two fighters surround
an Australian Kittyhawk
in a ripe line of sky.

We fire until the plane
disappears over the soiled
mass of Port Morseby.

In our tent, Hiroyoshi
quietly reads his poem.

High-up seedless clouds are matted, ruffled white
as face powder. Sakai signals “go home.”
A motor is hardly needed to pull my plane toward base;
I set the fuel lever to “Lean,” edge the cockpit open.
Fresh air sweeps around me and I am a flight scarf free
on wind, my only friend goes ahead and I follow
rising on the incense of chrysanthemum ash.




Bernard Henrie
mojave216@aol.com
3/5/18

My original work, not published or representing another IBPC Forum.

Michael (MV)
Posts: 1372
Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57

Re: Upcoming March IBPC 2018:

#28 Post by Michael (MV) » 07 Mar 2018, 03:48

 
Thanks, Bernie,

Good Luck in the finals

8)

Mic(MV)

 
 
 
 
  
 
 

Bernie01
Posts: 780
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Re: Upcoming March IBPC 2018:

#29 Post by Bernie01 » 15 Mar 2018, 04:35

Michael---

sorry, lost touch here...if not too late

My work and not representing another Forum. Unpublished.

Bernard Henrie
mojave216Bernard@aol.com

323-338-4706





Japanese Wings


Hiroyoshi shows a photograph;
She wears western clothes,
dark velvet, I think, to the ankles
suitable for an orchestra or ballroom;
severe jacket, an oversize brass
chrysanthemum at the lapel.

Hiroyoshi and I fly everyday;
my uniform hangs down like his
in the humid press of the jungle.

Overhead, short-waisted bitterns
wheel and fall on the yellow
canebrakes. Any puff of wind
like steam off a kettle.

Fewer pilots each meal,
he writes his sweetheart,
then sets the paper aside.
We will soon fly.

Airborne,
he calls to alert me,

Sakai,

Sakai!

our two fighters surround
an Australian Kittyhawk
in a ripe line of sky.

We fire until the plane
disappears over the soiled
mass of Port Morseby.

In our tent, Hiroyoshi
quietly reads his poem.

High-up seedless clouds are matted, ruffled white
as face powder. Sakai signals “go home.”
A motor is hardly needed to pull my plane toward base;
I set the fuel lever to “Lean,” edge the cockpit open.
Fresh air sweeps around me and I am a flight scarf free
on wind, my only friend goes ahead and I follow
rising on the incense of chrysanthemum ash.

Michael (MV)
Posts: 1372
Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57

Re: Upcoming March IBPC 2018:

#30 Post by Michael (MV) » 15 Mar 2018, 07:38

 
Hi bernie,


On March 6th I forwarded to the finals your poem posted here in this thread on the 6th of March.


I then replied/updated in this thread with:

http://www.the-writers-block.net/forum/ ... =25#p31857


Good Luck in the finals

bernie, Eira, and Frank

8)

Michael (MV)

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

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