Somersault

Wanting so much more in life, other than his 100k lifestyle

            He feels his failure inside and squeezes it into a little pill,

                         Swallowing the bitter pill and leaving reality for a dream.

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Here I am, looking out the window as the sun surfaces,

In awe of such beauty from above, traveling afar

On a venture to find oneself betwixt the mayhem – chaos

How I so long to roam this new road I now journey

I hear the bustle and commotion, as we now descend

The landscape below entices the desire even more so

As we now, approach land and I see my destination

I can feel the rush of the adventure, racing passionately

How it seemed forever, so distant, the dream I envisioned

Time has now come, to initiate this new course of action

All my earnings spent away, to live, as I have never dared

Breathing now slowly in – out, as the plane somersaults

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     The wingspan of a Aeroflot Medium Distance passenger jet is 27,8m. Falling from the sky // plunging from the atmosphere // forensics will finally decide it was a glitch // in transmission, from the Navicore 870 cpu, which caused the turbines to stutter, then into this was sucked a large-ish predatory sea fowl // whose bones became stuck in a flywheel // attached to a centrifuge // that centrifuge was spun by a rubber belt // re-enforced with fine stainless steel cables.

       It so happens, that upon the day the molten steel was to be poured in the mould, at the parts foundry of Bangalore, the head blacksmith was attending an elaborate Hindu funerary ceremony, in honor of his friend, who was killed in a terroristic explosion at the ashram which, subsequently, took the lives of 123 souls, at final tally.

     Giuseppe “Lucky” Frantellgio called in sick to work this day [the day of the somersault]. Unfortunately for us and the lone surviving passenger, as Giuseppe would always, always, always carry a pair of binoculars and a digital camera around his neck, as he trekked his path, checking the circumference of the Mt Riglettoni Tree Farm, as part of his daily chores.

    The medium passenger jet, en-route to Lisboa caught a down draft and pitched its left wing into the very peak of those beloved mountain (3777 meters) before commencing to turn wing-over-wing, down to the base of the aforementioned incline.

    Though not as famous as the Gran Paradiso, the bottom of this mountain is an enchanting spot where five rivers, three lakes and two valleys meet. This, indeed, is one of the most fertile spots in all of Italy, if not in all of the Mediterranean. This, however, is a privately owned mountain on a privately owned island, which has been property, for the last 1300 years, of the famous Marini family.

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       Let us trying, as it may seem, examine the wreckage, to find what remains of her passenger.

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Larissa Marino never thought that life could end in such a cruel fashion

She could not believe what was happening, as commotion surrounded her

The screams alone were petrifying, how destiny could lead her to this moment

         As the plane plummets from the sky falling far off course of what would be

                Looking out the window, she takes in all the beauty coming into view

Sadly thinking it would be that last thing she would see, on this journey

At least she made it as far as Italy, with the courage of something new

         She suddenly hears an explosion, just before she loses consciousness

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To be continued….

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Copyright © 2013 Philip Pope / Lucy Martins

All poetry by Philip Pope / Lucy Martins are copyright protected by International Copyright Law, the use without written permission is illegal. All Rights Reserved ©

A Stranger in this World

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