A Window Seat

Rating: 4.6

Five miles high
in our chartered jet
we fly in Fairyland,
all shining light, the
sky sea-bright, and
blue as lapis lazuli;
white as Dover’s cliffs, clouds
form a floor — a field of floating ice
below, so cold, so pure
like summer
in Antarctica
before mankind.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Poetry Hound 23 April 2005

Sure it's 'shallow.' Who said poems have to be deep? This one is short and sweet and has nice imagery that anyone who has had a window seat and a sense of aesthetics can identify with. Nice one.

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Linda Preston 23 April 2005

John, you are not being very kind today. Not all poems have to have a profound meaning - however, ice and cold are metaphors for many things.

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John Tiong Chunghoo 23 April 2005

quite a shallow poem though.

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Robert Howard 26 November 2006

Beautiful writing. I'll think of your poem at 30,000 feet tomorrow.

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Emma Johnson 03 March 2006

Beautiful painting. Light and colours again, Peter. What expertise.

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This is fabulous Peter and so easy to envision. I am a fan of your work. Great job once again. Sherry

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Raynette Eitel 06 August 2005

This is beautiful, Peter. When I fly, I'm very aware of how small a percentage of mankind through the times has ever seen the tops of the clouds. What a treat...flying AND your poem., Thanks. Raynette

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Michael Tonkin 23 April 2005

Peter, Where do poets get their ideas from, with just two lines to set the scene you embark on a poem that is short but delightful, that says it all. Wonderful. Michael

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