AEROPLANE RELATED POEMS BY NICK ARMBRISTER poems
- NICK ARMBRISTER/JBS
- May 4, 2020
- 4 min read
AEROPLANE RELATED POEMS
BY NICK ARMBRISTER
This is Nick Armbrister’s complete aviation based poetry collection bringing together poetry and prose from his previous books. His aircraft poems are on many types ranging from old biplanes to helicopters and fast modern jet fighters, flying and used in combat. The joy of flight is covered too in several dreamy lighthearted poems. Nick has been interested in all things that fly since he was a child and this continues today with his poetry and tattoos related to modern aircraft. His poetry covers many moods ranging from happy to questioning the futility of armed conflict in which many warplanes and weapons are used in anger. From Spitfire to Mirage, Nick captured them in words giving famous planes new life. Enjoy his new book and check out his other fiction covering all matters aviation based.
MESSERSCHMITT DEATH MACHINE
Yankee terror bombers fly overhead to bomb our cities and our military targets.
Stop them! Quick, into our Messerschmitt 109G’s. Take off; rise up to do battle with the infidels armed with their fifty calibre super heavy machine guns. We have a few toys too! We drop 500-pound bombs on B-17s timed to go off and send them to hell! One-way ticket, don’t forget to pay the ferry man. Backed up by big fat 30mm cannon in the engine, punch big fat holes into the terror bombers - kill them!
Twin 13mm guns in the engine cowling to rat-atat-tat the big bad yanks. And two 20mm cannons, one under each wing to do more killing and bomber destruction or two 210mm rockets to kill from stand off range, break up their formations to execute them one at a time. Messerschmitt 109G death machine, weapons platform. What about Focke Wulf 190? Four 20mm guns, two 13mm guns, bombs, rockets or 30mm guns. Use these up, ram the bastards! Official suicide squad, Nazi style.
DESTINY CALLS
Rising higher and higher the warplane climbs
through the hazy sky, sun reflecting off the distant water
far below through a gap in the clouds.
Missiles hang under delta wings
ready for instant launch when an enemy
is spotted across the distant sky.
An inhuman machine with the looks of a goddess
and the power of a god, this is a thing of mans own creation
yet almost with a life of its own and an electronic soul.
Radar eyes see a hundred miles and infrared sensors scan
the icy cold sky, fuel drinking engines push Mach2 forth
onward and upwards to the battle area, the whole sky.
Night falls and stars glint like diamonds on black velvet,
light years distant. A faint glimpse on the radar,
a skin paint tens of miles distant, missile seekers focus
a needle of energy. Enough!
A white incandescent light and a whoosh of flame
and the missile is on the way, out of sight in seconds,
a faint glow dimming. In an enemy cockpit a similar scene
is being played out in this high tech duel of chess.
Rapid manoeuvres to defeat the devil’s missile
and maybe a chance to meet him if you fail.
As g-forces crush you and the stars go vertical
do you think of your wife or pray you can win
this dangerous battle where you are meant to be the best?
War in the air, ruthless and utterly cold blooded
eight miles above the earth.
DUEL
I stand on the rail of the ferry looking back
through the rain and wind and time.
I imagine the battle between Spitfire and Messerschmitt
at wave top height.
Who will bring their guns to bear first?
In the tight turns the Spitfire is king
but the 109 climbs so much faster.
Only God would know who the winner is
as both planes fall wounded to the sea.
Who will remember the wartime duel 60years ago?
I’m jerked back to reality as rain runs down my neck.
SOME KIND OF DANCE
The bastards came and hit Darwin. Our radar warned us in time, we got three squadrons of Spitfires scrambled and had height on our side. Now we’ll show the Nips! Diving down we got two of the deadly Zero fighters, their best naval fighter ever built.
Counter attack! Quickly a Spit is hit and the pilot is in the water. We try to out turn them as we did with the 109 and 190s in Europe. But these Zekes turn like the Devil possesses them. Our tactics are wrong!
Soon Spitfires join Zeros falling down on fire. If our Intel boys had learnt from the Flying Tigers and their crap P-40s we’d have nailed the rising sun boys, dive and zoom all the way. Never turn with a Zero! They’re like sports planes with 20mm cannons. We did win this fight though coz we ripped their bombers a new arse hole, Battle of Britain style.
Our trials aren’t over yet; we used all of our fuel up. Many of us had to force land killing one pilot. Next time we’ll nail the bastards, dive and zoom all the way.
How will history judge this epic encounter of Spit versus Zero?
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