falling from the trees,
we let them spin and drift
like sailors, drunk with gin,
watched them circling
towards the tongue of the river,
then.. disappear

faces hot with sweat
and dreams of the real ones,
smelling of big adventure,
Platoon – Apocalypse Now
and named Cobra,
Black Shark or Mangusta

They would take us
to places we saw on tv with
bold men fighting for what
we hoped was right and
all afternoon, dirty hands and

scratched hearts we let them
fall and fall until the sun came down
and our knees started bleeding

until the rotors spun in our heads
until we were almost there and
until the trees had lost all their seeds

linking up with emily at imperfect prose..


15 responses to “helicopters

  1. >Hi! Claudia…Your poetry is beautiful…and your words do conjure up children at play too……This "stanza" brings to mind children playing until they were exhausted…"scratched hearts we let them fall and fall until the sun came down and our knees started bleeding…"postscript:I had to Google the image of Maple Trees Helicopter seed" and now I understand the title of your poem. Great use of conjuring up a very vivid mental image.Thanks, for sharing!DeeDee ;-D

  2. >Very well done. I like the fact you mention movies. These flicks we've seen and make what you're writing about read more real. I have yet to read a poem of yours I didn't like or did not got something out of it.

  3. >beautiful, dear claudia… i love how i lay there watching them spinning down … you put me in the moment, friend (as you always do). and to reassure you re: my post, i still am pregnant with kasher… the miscarriage i wrote of happened before aiden was born. i believe she was a girl. thank you so much for your love…

  4. “scratched hearts” is a stunning phrase! how can you take toy helicopters as the subject and form a poem this amazing?