He swings the propeller the engine ignites
Then jumps in the cockpit and heads for the heights
While far down below him magnificent sights
Are turning themselves into toytown
The engine is roaring there's wind in his face
He's free of the ground in this wide open space
With birds all around him that want to play chase
In the air above dear little toytown
He learnt about flying to fight in a war
Half a lifetime ago when the nations were sore
But really this fighting, what is it all for?
Now he's home in the air above toytown
The engine starts spluttering it's time he must land
Before all the fuels gone and landing's "unplanned"
He'd rather land safely as you'll understand
So he heads for a field outside toytown
With bumping and bouncing he lands by the crop
And slowly his aircraft is brought to a stop
He jumps from the cockpit and savours the drop
Now it's real and it isn't like toytown
Tomorrow our pilot will take off again
And circle the landscape in his ancient plane
And do it each day that his heart takes the strain
He hopes that he'll die over toytown!
Author notes
Just a little story, I hope you like
A contest entry
- Snap~Crackle~Pop! by Sailor Ptolema.
1100 points, ended July 25, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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" jumps from the cockpti ">>.opps you meant 'cockpit'
I like the childlike quality of this. And the central theme of this 'toytown'. I think of youth; but also I think of plastic and fakeness. So; i like these polarizing images you bring up 
Love the form. thank you for entering and g'luck!
-sailor ptolema -
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It's only toytown due to the size
For me plastic and fakery are as far away as you can get, his plane is the same as he flew in his youth and the only place he is alive is in the clouds looking down on the rest of his life.
But that's the glory of a poem or a story, it belongs to the reader.
Thanks for the contest.
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Makes you want to be up there with him-
lovely to read this - it takes you somewhere good and happy.
xxx Bumpy
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We had a farmer in our village in England who used to fly his old bi-plane over the valley, and we'd always say, "Oh, there goes old Stan Stott!"
Even to this day whenever I hear the intermittent buzz of a small plane I still think of dear old Stan...
This little piece really brought back such sharp memories. Very enjoyable ~ thanks for that!
Best of luck in the contest.
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Looks like I've been beaten to the best comments...
I loved this, it has that 'feel good factor' about it.
All the best
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Wonderful
Superb! I like this story. The feel to it makes you wanna fly. I enjoyed it immensely. Good refrain in there too.
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Bravo!
Good luck in the contest.
Tom
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This would be a wonderful children's poem....they'd love it. Very well done!
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