Chris G. Vaillancourt

Silver Star - 3,046 Points (April 5,1959-june 2016 / Canada)

Aeroplanes And Strangers - Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Aeroplanes fly
at great speed.
Inside their metal bodies
resides colonies of humans.
Side by side they sit,
lying to each other
about their lives.

Every stone that
lies on the ground
has its own story.

Every diamond
is fashioned from
lumps of coal.

All the Kings horses
and all the Kings men
are not able to change
the inevitable.

Black skies hide
the rotting yearning,
the plunge into
that shallow space.

I live here.
Coloured liquid
pours from my
aching thoughts.

I drop pretending
so fast, one would
imagine it never
was there at all.

Sit beside me.
We shall fly together.
Echoes following
every strangled sigh.

Touching the shallow,
we can speak of
people known and
people forgotten.

Struggle in separate shells
as we attempt to bond
in contemporary fashion.

Should I tell you
that they have told me
I am dying?

I think not.
That would cause
too many lips to
drip with sympathy.

Aeroplanes are
emergency reunions
of jocular strangers
emptied of reality.

I want to be
one of those strangers,
and cast a spell
of formaldehyde
expectations.

Topic(s) of this poem: cancer, death, saddened


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 29, 2015



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