Friday, 23 June 2017

Sitting On The Pan

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This is the second of two poems I wrote whilst traveling to the UK yesterday. I hope you like it.

Sitting On The Pan

The flight's all boarded, nice and neat
everyone has got a seat
inflight checks have been done
a safety brief for everyone
no one listens, they never do
well ok, perhaps a few.
A speaker crackles into life
the captain says we face more strife
a short delay while a slot is found
the aeroplane is stuck on ground
the door is open for fresh air
and avture makes that air smell queer.
Eventually things fall in line
I can't help think, "about bloody time!"
the plane's pushed back as tables stow
upright seats, we're ready... Go!
the mewling baby's fallen quiet
we're on our way, what a riot.

John Carré Buchanan
22 June 2017

2 comments:

  1. Richard Fleming26 June 2017 at 17:32

    Both these poem are ones that we long-suffering travellers can relate to, John. I'd suggest, tongue -in-cheek, that you send them to Aurigny or Flybe's in-flight magazines and suggest they publish them.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Richard, Oh but it weren't so! I might just send them off having just had such a horrible trip home. That poem is waiting on my frazzled mind calming down a bit!

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