In the middle of March 09, I got this idea of doing poems from A to Z. I sat down and wrote the very first word that popped into my mind from A to Z without prior thinking or pre-planning. Who knows why I chose some of the words that I chose but now I had to compose a poem about each one. It seemed like a good challenge and it has proved to be!    

The airplane soars up with her spirit so high

She defies nature’s law as she kisses the sky

Pilot and crew with their uniform crease

arrest all our fears, like aviation police

Wings they are lifted by thrust and by air

while hand on the throttle is steady with care

Altimeter needle while upwardly creeping

ignores the stern voice of the captain who’s speaking

“Steady we go at thirty thousand feet

the ride will be smooth but stay in your seat”

Out of the window the ants you see scurry

are morning commuters in hurry and worry

While a gleam in the sky might be catching their eye

Across the great blue we go quietly by

All of a sudden, the gear it comes down

The flaps they are dragging, almost to the ground

Steady and easy the big bird she settles

Her parts all intact with rivets and metals

The trip just like that is a rousing success

With this parting good-bye the crew we address

It’s not just a trip from point A to point B

But the moving of spirit…from captive to free

David Kettler
This was the first in my alphabetical soup of poems. A….for Airplane! I’ve always enjoyed flying both commercially and when I had a valid pilot’s license. After flying up to the folks a couple weeks ago, I realized that it was the first time in about two years that I had flown commercially. I’m sure that trip influenced this poem a bit. I remember leaving Bakersfield about 5:00 PM full of fuel and the temperature was around 105 degrees. I had trouble climbing to altitude in order to get out of the valley and cross the mountains to the east. It was a good first hand lesson about how hotter temperatures affect the ability of an airplane to climb.

Bananas…the funny fruit

When you slip-N-fall & rip your suit

The food of silly chimps and apes

Far from the somber, sober grapes

Sittin on the table with forks and spoons

Or swimmin in the cereal like silly goons

Look how they take over the fruit salad

Feeling so important and thinkin they’re valid

Bananas…all yellow with certain appeal

“I wanna banana” the kids all squeal

Hanging in a bunch all naïve and green

Next thing you know they think they’re keen

Lounging with their buds and feelin mello

They get a bit older, wiser and yellow

No wonder we cut em down to size

Slice em up nice and feast our eyes

Nothing finishes off a frantic Monday

Like a big ol bowl of banana nut sundae!

David Kettler 3/19/09

I needed to write a poem about bananas for the “B” in my alphabet of poems. I thought of bananas as somewhat funny and mischievous maybe from the way they are portrayed in Jungle book. Also, I thought of them somewhat arrogant because they are by far the most visible and most used out of all the fruits here in the U.S. with possibly the apple for an exception.



 

Is it just a quiet hole in the earth

Or a memory…of some impact or dearth

Standing on the rim, the sun sets across the space

A bird’s scream echo’s…then goes without a trace

The crater, so quiet now and so alone

Where once were trees and lakes and stone

Think of the speed at which the meteor fell

Resting now deep in the earth, resting still

Memories, like craters in my heart

Now lie silent, understood in part

It now is a beautiful place, quiet and serene

As I gaze across this open crater scene

David Kettler ( 3/19/09 )

The poem for “C” was crater. My mind went back to Hawaii were I stood on the rim of the Haleakala crater in MauiHawaii. This crater was caused by a volcano rather than a meteorite but it’s a crater still the same and the only one I remember seeing. I do remember how quiet it was, and I remember birds soaring.     

Those friendly spots when you smile

Like flashbulbs going off with grace and style

Adorable little windows into your ease

Announcement of smiles, laughter and tease

Those cute little dimples when you grin

The innocence of a child with no angle or spin

They’re not flaws…more like jewels…

Bright diamonds shining in tiny pools

Gracing your cheeky gentle face

Those little dimples of adorable space

dk

I know a lot more about golf ball dimples than I do about dimples on cheeks. In fact, I can’t really say that one person jumps out at me when I think about dimples. I kind of associate them with babies or with very friendly people so I guess that is where this poem is coming from.      

The sun plays peek-a-boo with the moon

Anytime of day, morning or afternoon

All the sun’s power, its heat and its fury

Suddenly darkens…an earth that is weary

The sun can’t be stopped as soon we will find

Evidence of fire, still burning behind

Though dark in the middle of perimeter glow

Its brilliance is begging to once again show

Little by little the darkness will move

Away to the side and again it will prove

That the sun may be paused, for a moment or two

But those life giving rays just have to come thru

So daily the earth, does its roll-over flips

But our place here in space, is hard to eclipse

DK

3/25/09 

Eclipse was the word for “E” that popped into my head when I wrote down the A-Z alphabetical poem list. I think that I have seen different eclipses in the past…they don’t really stick in my mind though. There is no doubt that they are cool to observe and because of this poem, I will really pay attention to the next one.      

Frankfurter is some fancy name

For a lowly little hotdog, taking in the game

Lounging in a bun, sticking out both sides

Or chopped up in the beans, where usually he hides

Made of many parts, all ground into congestion

The result is just a case, of fatal indigestion!

The 7th inning stretch, has always been quite fitting

Just hope it’s not down-wind,

FROM WHERE YOU MIGHT BE SITTING! 

I’m real sorry…I guess you need to figure out how to write a poem about frankfurters! Why it ever popped in my mind for “F” is beyond me. I never eat hot dogs because they give me terrible migraines! Anyway…this poem’s a real dog!      

Honking like cabbies on migration south

Avoiding the hunters with watering mouth

This V in the sky of jailbirds loose

The long-neck express, this gaggle of goose

Right from the start they’re all feathers and feet

Till a few months go by and they’re not quite so sweet

Soon they grow bigger with long-neck stuck out

A swaggering walk with their beak and their snout

The restless young bunch with family in tow

Head for the south at the first sign of snow

Leaving the runway like planes that are booked

Hoping the journey doesn’t leave their goose cooked

Honking and jostling for their place in the line

Painting the sky with their victory sign

David Kettler, 3/31/09

 Here again I have no idea where “Goose” came from when I needed a word for “G”!
Anyway this is the result. I kind of like it actually, it came together pretty nice. I like the cabbies honking, the jailbirds let loose and the image of them taking off like planes on a runway. I don’t know a whole lot about geese, just that I’ve heard that they are pretty mean and will chase and bite you if they get the chance. I kind of like the visual of the hunter getting the best of him and he getting his goose cooked!      



 

Do your own thing was the cry of the year

Sixty nine was the season of pills and of beer

Flowers and free love was the strong rebel yell

Where it would end only time that could tell

A maverick a loaner that no one could bind

A free-loading spirit on a trip of the mind

But in seeking to close the mysterious loop

They all ended up, right back there in a group

The hair and the tales, well they let them grow long

Then pick up a guitar and put it in song

The mind will expand with the right kind of pill

And that Volkswagen bus that is broken down still

They get the last laugh, this peace loving group

Cause they now have our country in a pile of poop

Their bus is a Prius and their hair is cut short

A job in the city of government sort

You still can find them, camped on the lawn

Surrounded by Whitehouse and media fawn

Oh what we would give for them back in San Fran

Back at Haight Ashbury with their bus and their van

So it’s not in the park where the smell is so bad

The long halls of congress…is the hippie’s new pad

David Kettler, 3/31/09 

This poem became instantly one of my favorites! It went together real smoothly and allowed me to pour all my political frustrations into print. I’m a real expert on hippies seeing I was eight years old in sixty nine! Anyway, after I scratched this on a pad at five in the morning, I went to work and all day was anxious to come home and put it in print because I knew it was pretty good. It’s kind of funny but I could not of told you two or three lines at work by memory. It’s like I enjoy it for the first time when I pull out my notebook and read what I wrote just twelve hours before.    

 Indigo, indigo the richer side of blue

The earth as seen from outer space, or deepest ocean hue

Not quite the brightest violet… but royal nonetheless

So calming and so soothing too, a harsh tone to regress

Not like its cousin red, the sun to represent

Nor like the greenest rolling hill, the tint of grassy bed

The flowers waving from the pot, are yellow orange and pink

Important true for sure each one, at least that’s what they think

But indigo’s the quiet one, with deep and subtle tone

So rich in depth and purple haze, it proudly stands alone

David Kettler, 4/1/09

 I really like the color of indigo now that I’ve checked it out and wrote a poem about it. It reminds me of a very classy, royal type of color. I liked the idea of individualizing it rather than having it grouped in with blue or purple.