The Spitfire
The stunning Spitfire swiftly whirring over the land
screaming silent curses after battle.
The guns spray the bullets,
the whispers of death.
The propellers, powerful like a
tunnel-boring machine under ground.
The prodigious wings keeping
the spitfire airborne.
The spitfire glides flawlessly
into the unknown.
The wild wings slicing the air.
The killer propeller blades chop
aggressively at the night sky.
The rusted exhaust pipes spits smoke,
polluting the clean air.
The swift, agile spitfire glides
like an owl in the moonlight.
The invisible, tremendous propeller
blades whirring swiftly through the air.
The minuscule rear wheel assisting takeoff
and landing a loyal friend.
The black exhaust pipes leaving
a trail of smoke wherever it goes.
Hi,
We really like your ideas especially your line saying “The whispers of death”
Next time you could use a different idea for spitfire instead of using it twice.
Overall we really like it 🙂
From Livia and Isabelle.
🙂
Hi we love your spitfire poem it builds an amazing picture especially the line where you talk about how the propellers chop angrily at the night sky.How are the propellers powerful like a tunnel-boring machine? After like an owl line there is no gap where as there are gaps every where else after the verse. Apart from that it was amazing!
I think yours is good well done I have no comment.
Amazing work.
1) I love the line ‘The minuscule rear wheel assisting takeoff
and landing a loyal friend’
From Marnie-DSJA
Hello,
I really like your poem but could you use a different word than “The boring-machine.”
Overall i think your poem is very nice. Do you like spitfires? Well done.
From Jack.