Today’s Throwback Friday poem is from February 2019, when I was preparing myself for a trip to America/New York/Philadelphia, to visit my Philadelphia “cousins”, and today, here I am on Vancouver Island visiting my Canadian “cousins”.
Dusty Passport
Here I was resting, home again from the hospital After a second stroke had laid me up I was rekindling thoughts of travelling to America An adventure I’d always promised myself Night is not always dark, you know Firstly, I had to find my passport Yes, I’d hidden it somewhere safe After turning the bedroom inside out Then, throwing the lounge room upside down The lost document was on a garage shelf Looking dusty, but still only five years old Jumping for joy, you’d think I’d found gold Hardly ever been stamped, a Chinese one, that’s all Many years have passed since my last call I clasped that passport firmly in my hand And I said, “It’s time”, before my clock runs out of sand
Featured Image: Dawn is peeking through my window on the plane. The above 2 images are my nighttime photos from my seat.
It’s now officially 24 hours since I woke up on Wednesday at 5.10 am, to begin my journey of travelling half way around the world. Wow … and still 6 hours travel time to go before I get to my cousins place on Vancouver Island The buttocks are starting to really ache. But not to worry, here I am writing words on my website. Today’s trip has steadfastly confirmed that I do not sleep well on planes
However, how things have changed since my last international flight 6 years ago. I have inflight WiFi and I think the food is betterer,or is it because this time I am flying with Air New Zealand. And damn, the guy sitting next to me has just slept 6 hours straight.
I’m flying up, against gravity’s undertow Higher than all the birds I know Above white clouds full of snow
My wings are made of steel and bone And within this long underbelly I am not alone As we burst through the wind’s vibration zone Then out of the blue I am handed an ice cream cone
Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Who’s the Pilot”is in this week’s edition. To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/whos-the-pilot/
I’m too tired to wiggle my toes And pack my wrinkled clothes I’m wordless at the moment My thoughts are on postponement
I twist and roll over Music wiggles inside my head My somersault of dreams Wrinkles my bedspread Upside down Tiredness falls out of my seams Words tumble around Nameless titles and endless tunes abound
A new moon’s brewing Singing the blues, Over my empty town I twist and roll over again I’m back where I started, I hear my angel humming, Hallelujah