A Poem by Sydney Peck

Waiting for Plane Take Off

Dozing before take-off.  Patients etherized and unable,
Evening spread into the distance
Silly solitaire cards spread on pull-down table.
I hate toves with imagined importance
Giving direction to momeraths who do not need it.

Through my window
Ants -- like small people from 3000 feet.
Petite stewardess's candy for pressure-reduction pain.  EAT ME.

     It's food that makes my feelings small
     My feelings not so big at all
     I've never felt a big and dizzy love whirl
     But better to have loved a pretty short girl
     Than never to have loved a tall

One Jubjub obsessed with one minute's lateness there
His last creativity was when he got up off his potty.
All in sync.  Seat belts.  Seats upright.  Put cards away, sir.
Feeling dizzy from wine in the waiting lounge.  DRINK ME.

     A liquor which can make me grow
     Is not so very bad you know
     Taller guys make better dancers
     Taller animals better prancers
     Giraffes are fast and lizards slow

I have known toves, and listened, bored and heard
Their drunken speeches at parties, wary of the Jubjub bird.

Our silver bird's rolling now.  And we
Switch off cell-phones.  No more calls that
Say nothing to no one.  In the ethereal world of electro-chat,
We need items marked SMOKE ME.

     Horizon seems with puffs to bend
     The sunset seems to never end
     The silver wings can lift us all sky-high
     Where snow and rainfall disappear with sigh
     As through the clouds of smoke we wend

Caterpillar clouds with hookahs on a mushroom bed.
Be careful:  one minute late into Stansted --
Queen of Hearts will off-with-my-head.

Through the glass I see ground -- those people in sight
From 3000 feet are in fact ants:  for our silver bird is still grounded tight.
A cabin-sign lights up, saying KICK ME.

     Too long I tarried in this field of fools
     Where each one follows some imagined rules
     Wonderland characters are notably oblivious to logic
     Their dramatic, wordy isolation is patently ridiculous and loquaciously tragic
     The drool of mules fuels the rules of schools.

I delight to have my part of the drama said:
If you're too old or inflexible for the job -- off with your head.
Kick me for tolerating it too long and hard.
I have said they're only silly cards;
But in my game of solitaire void and null
I should have been more forceful.



Sydney Peck has been a school teacher for thirty years, teaching English in the UK, Ireland, Canada, and Russia.  He spends his spare time playing musical instruments (mostly folk music) and writing poetry.