Anyone know any good aviation poetry (apart from “High Flight” of course)? This one has stuck in my mind ever since I saw it in an old RAF Souvenir book, years ago. I find it quite moving, and very evocative of “The Few” and those Summer months of 1940 when my country came so perilously close to falling under the Nazi jackboot. Sadly, I don’t know the name of the author, so apologies if it happens to be anyone here.
His place was laid, the messroom clock struck eight,
No one commented on his fate, save for a headshake here or there.
Only old George, who’d seen him die, spinning against the Autumn sky,
leaned forward and turned down his plate.
And as he did, the sunlight fled, as though the sky he loved so mourned her dead.
By: Ren Frew - 10th January 2006 at 01:34
Hmmm… let’s have a go at writing one ??
“A Bad Time to Start Sniffin Glue” by R. Frew 1836-1712
“I wander lonely as a cloud, aboard an A330
There’s nothing on the IFE…. But drink and nuts a plenty
Looking down, the barren sea is cold and grey and icy
The cabin crew accept no cash, but plastic “will do nicely”
Another hour, we’ll see green land or maybe Nova Scotia ?
I wish I hadn’t flown El Al, my mutton chop is kosher
On and on through icy fronts and north atlantic weather
The flaps have gone, the rudder’s stuck, and where’s me lucky heather ?
The captain’s ill, the FO’s puked, alas I fear we’re stricken
What to do, oh no we’re doomed both of ’em had the chicken
Inflate the auto, man the pumps and what’s your vector victor?
They want a man to fly the plane, the cabin is a picture !
I never hung around a grown man’s gym, or bounced a ball of leather
But to get to grips with this old bird, I fear I must endeavour ?
The radar’s jammed, we’re diving down, and now I write to you…
I certainly picked one hell of a day, to take up sniffin glue !!!”
Next please….. 😀
By: Dave Homewood - 9th January 2006 at 23:57
I’ve got some, from my webpage of WWII Air Force poetry I’ve collected over time.
See the page here
http://www.cambridgeairforce.org.nz/Air%20Force%20Poetry.htm
Here’s one of my favourites
RETURN AT DAWN
By Morris Marshall
(RNZAF Overseas, from Contact, Feb 1944)
The early dawn has seen their first homecoming,
Has seen them stuggle grimly through the skies.
The skylark hearkens to the engines’ pulsing
and feels akin to every man who flies.
The grazing beast lifts gentle eyes in wonder
To gaze upon the victors’ brave return
But knows not of the dangers that beset them
Who flew into the dark of early morn.
And winging back from out the far horizons,
Now hidden deep in smoke from work well done
The bomber crews give thanks to One Almighty
Who gave them strength to battle till they won.
And another
PER ARDUA AD ASTRA
anon
In no sequestered plot of hallowed ground our ashes lie,
but in the stormy seas,
from Norway to the purple Hebrides .
On tall Italian hilltops, fortress crowned
In the fair fields of Kent , the Flanders plain,
we fell to earth,
clawed from the embattled skies.
But though this unending day may die,
not all of us are dead
nor dead in vain.
Now, other eyes this ceaseless watch are keeping,
as ours, undaunted by the allied host.
No fear and no reproach our requiem mars,
Our emblem sings from coast to distant coast
“Through hardship to the stars”
And a particular favourite for the Erks
THREE CHEERS FOR THE MAN ON THE GROUND
By Flight Mechanic E. Sykes (1942)
Wherever you walk, you will hear people talk,
of the men who go up in the air,
of the daredevil way, they go into the fray;
Facing death without turning a hair.
They’ll raise a big cheer and buy lots of beer,
for the pilot who’s come home on leave,
but they don’t give a jigger, for a flight mech or rigger,
with nothing but “props” on his sleeve.
They just say “Nice day” – and then turn away,
with never a mention of praise,
for the poor bloody erk, who does all the work,
and just orders his own beer – and pays !
They’ve never been told, of the hours in the cold,
that he spends sealing Germany ‘s fate,
how he works on a kite, till all hours of the night,
and then turns up next morning at eight.
He gets no rake-off, for working ’til take-off,
or helping the aircrew prepare,
but whenever there’s trouble – it’s “Quick at the double”,
the man on the ground must be there.
Each flying crew, could confirm it as true,
that they know what this man’s really worth,
they know that he’s part of the RAF’s heart,
even though he stays close to the earth.
He doesn’t want glory, but please tell his story,
spread a little of his fame around,
He’s just one of a few – so give him his due,
and “Three Cheers for the man on the ground
See my webpage as mentioned above for a number of other great wartime poems.
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January 9, 2006 at 3:34 pm