Helicopter Over the Jungle (From a Dream) (Motif, First Thought Poetry)

Mike my brother, hot muggy,

jungle all around him, lost in its sea of ​​green,

my helicopter softly roaring

my helicopter softly roaring

my helicopter softly roaring

over the top of the mass of green-

(they just saved someone from the jungle a day ago-)

told my Commanding Officer, an Army Captain,

we had to arrange this helicopter to drop me off

in his last known locality-:

in this sea of ​​green, this jungle

in this sea of ​​green, this jungle

in this sea of ​​green, this jungle:

below me, with its suburb colors of foliage

with so many shades of green

below me, in this sea of ​​green,

with no alleyways, stop lights

just bugs, green and weeds.

Mike I thought:

where can you be,

where is he,

where can he be …

deep in this sea of ​​green,

deep in this sea of ​​green-below me:

the ground below me, spots of brown

brown spots, eh, where can he be?

in this sea of ​​green, this jungle,

in this sea of ​​green, this jungle,

below me; I notice-in this early morn,

a bright sunrise beyond the copter's eye,

way beyond its eye, way, way

beyond its eye …

rotary motion above my head

like a watchtower jumping, rocking

"Jump" a voice says,

"we'll pick you up later."

Thru the blue ski I fall,

through the blue sky I fall, fall, fall,

fall, and fall to the hot planet below,

I almost feel like an angel falling to earth,

falling to this sea of ​​green, this jungle.

I fall, and fall, to the hot planet below,

then hit land, insects hop back and forth;

hit land, insects working hard,

with heavy green loads on their back,

with heavy green loads (I see a toad

in the foliage-hiding big as my head,

in the sea of ​​green, this jungle;

between my feet, fingers, and boots, the

ants march, march with their loads

like trained little soldiers.

I have a horn type loudspeaker

and some other equipment, food;

it'll have to do, last a few days.

I tell myself, 'Staff Sergeant,' get up,

the helicopter will be back in a day,

available, to rescue me.

I search the terrain,

I searched the terrain,

this sea of ​​green, this hot, muggy jungle,

with heavy green toads, and ants with big loads:

thought, thinking, had a thought,

he might be in … then it all of a sudden,

my thoughts, thinking, stopped,

there over there,

there, right over there,

over there, over there,

I see him resting from the heat

under a large tree, in this sea of ​​green,

in this green sea, this jungle:

bushhes on both sides of him,

he's eating something.

# 2170 1-25-2008 (Dedicated to Mike Siluk)

Notes: About the Poem "Helicopter over the Jungle": Here is a new poem from a dream, many lines repeated, to incorporate the motif tone, and first thoughts to produce the sensitivity and texture (or grain grain I want) for the poem- dream. I do not claim this to be a "First thought, best thought," poem, that was not the idea behind this poem, or even invisible insight, was considered, not sure if there is any insight, other than a psychological message for me , and if so it is most likely my fear of my brother being in some kind of mental turmoil (and this in itself is a good promise for the reader to look at, for dreams are often made up of fears, desires and wishes, and messages from the Lord, and some nights, come directly from His Adversary). What you get in this poem really, or so I think, is a sequence of thoughts not particularly in any solid form, it is more of a natural form, mindfully set of course.


Source by Dennis Siluk Dr.hc

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