Helicopter over the Jungle ((From a Dream)(Motif...))

((From a Dream) (Motif, first thought poetry))

Mike my brother, hot muggy,
jungle all around him, lost in its sea of green,
my helicopter softly roaring
my helicopter softly roaring
my helicopter softly roaring
over the top of the mass of green—
(they just saved someone from the jungle a day ago—)
told my Commanding Officer, an Army Captain,
we had to arrange this helicopter to drop me off
in his last known locality—:
in this sea of green, this jungle
in this sea of green, this jungle
in this sea of green, this jungle:
below me, with its suburb colors of foliage
with so many shades of green
below me, in this sea of green,
with no alleyways, stop lights
just bugs, green and weeds.
Mike I thought:
where can you be,
where is he,
where can he be…
deep in this sea of green,
deep in this sea of green—below me:
the ground below me, spots of brown
brown spots, eh, where can he be?
in this sea of green, this jungle,
in this sea of green, this jungle,
below me; I notice—in this early morn,
a bright sunrise beyond the copter’s eye,
way beyond its eye, way, way
beyond its eye…
rotary motion above my head
like a watchtower jumping, rocking
“Jump” a voice says,
“we’ll pick you up later.”
Thru the blue ski I fall,
thru the blue sky I fall, fall, fall,
fall, and fall to the hot planet below,
I almost feel like an angel falling to earth,
falling to this sea of green, this jungle.
I fall, and fall, to the hot planet below,
then hit land, insects hop back and forth;
hit land, insects working hard,
with heavy green loads on their back,
with heavy green loads (I see a toad
in the foliage—hiding big as my head,
in the sea of green, this jungle;
between my feet, fingers, and boots, the
ants march, march with their loads
like trained little soldiers.
I have a horn type loudspeaker
and some other equipment, food;
it’ll have to do, last a few days.
I tell myself, ‘Staff Sergeant,’ get up,
the helicopter will be back in a day,
available, to rescue me.
I search the terrain,
I searched the terrain,
this sea of green, this hot, muggy jungle,
with heavy green toads, and ants with big loads:
thought, thinking, had a thought,
he might be in… then it all of a sudden,
my thoughts, thinking, stopped,
there over there,
there, right over there,
over there, over there,
I see him resting from the heat
under a large tree, in this sea of green,
in this green sea, this jungle:
bushes on both sides of him,
he’s eating something.

#2170 1-25-2008 (Dedicated to Mike Siluk)


Notes: About the Poem “Helicopter over the Jungle”: Here is a new poem from a dream, many lines repeated, to incorporate the motif tone, and first thoughts to produce the sensitivity and texture (or grain I want) for the poem-dream. I do not claim this to be a” First thought, best thought,” poem, that was not the idea behind this poem, or even spontaneous insight, was considered, not sure if there is any insight, other than a psychological message for me, and if so it is most likely my fear of my brother being in some kind of mental turmoil (and this in itself is a good premise for the reader to look at, for dreams are often made up of fears, desires and wishes, and messages from the Lord, and some nightmares, come directly from His Adversary). What you get in this poem really, or so I think, is a sequence of thoughts not particularly in any solid form, it is more of a natural form, mindfully set of course.