James (JIMBO) Pearce

James (JIMBO) Pearce Poems

James (JIMBO) Pearce Biography

I am a retired bush pilot from Canada with 47 years of flying, mostly off strip, ski and float operations in a Twin Otter. I have worked and lived in many countries and remote territories such as Antarctica, the West Coast of British Columbia, the Yukon and NW Territories and Nunavit.I have flown in Costa Rica, Panama, Chile, Alaska, Northern Saskatchewan, Myanmar, Thialand, Pakistan, India and the Maldives. I enjoy golfing and fishing as well as writing and gardening. I have two wonderful daughters and two really neat grand kids.I currently reside in Baguio City in the Philippines from November until March and then I migrate home to White Rock, BC in Canada.)

The Best Poem Of James (JIMBO) Pearce

The Journey

Under a cold and starry night, somewhere over a lonely sea,
Two PT6’s warm my soul and thoughts of my past.... they comfort me.

I am a lonely rogue of the sky,
I seek no remorse where I choose to fly.
An airman of fortune, at home anywhere,
A trusted friend, for those who will care.

I control my craft with defining grace
And tears of joy may stain my face.
I dive and roll and loop and spin,
The love of flight in the air so thin.

I skim the rivers in a Northern land
Of evergreens and rock and sand.
As the clouds and painted sky unfold,
The setting sun shimmers, like a sea of gold.

The billowing ramparts ascend to the stars,
Where the lightning explodes and the thunder jars.
The currents of air may pound my bones
And hail may slam my wings like stones.

And through the storm, I kept my head
And emerged intact, after all was said.
So I lived to fly another day
My head held high, it was my way.


Life may be hard, but Life is real,
For tough decisions, there is no appeal.
To err is human …. there are few regrets,
I am stronger now to face other threats.

Like an albatross, on the course of Life,
My destination …… beyond the strife.
Family and friends remain close to my heart,
A lonely existence when we’re apart.

A thousand departures and a thousand arrivals,
They are always the same, to ensure my survival.
A cup of black coffee before I begin,
And when the sun goes down, I am into the gin.

My sense of humor is always alive,
My gutsy pride and my will to survive.
I am certain, I don’t push the odds.
I am old and wise, and there is a God.

In a far away land, I am but a squatter.
I chose the back roads …. I fly a Twin Otter.
Home from the Coral, home from the Ice,
Home from the North, I have paid a dear price.

So scatter my ashes on a gentle sea.
I am not dead …. Remember me.

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