Mr Jones 1

Mr Jones thought he could fly
But if he did, he’d surely die
To soar like a bird was his desire
To fly over the Earth, his wings on fire
Flying fast or slow
All over the World he would go
Flying fast over hill and vale
A feather in his arse to act as tail
Wings of satin, feather of bird
Isn’t this poem a bit absurd.


The flying man 2

I look up at the flying man
I thought it would be nice if I could fly
He’s made of wood has metal springs
All tied together with bits of string
He wears goggles, black boots and a plastic hat
He hangs from a beam, within my room
He flaps his wings when I pull his string
Up and down with wings aflapping
Against the beam his head atapping
But no progress is he making
Forward flight is not for him
He is stuck as you and I, Earthbound forever
We’ll never fly.


Fly Fly 3

Fly fly, high in the sky
Look down on the Earth, see the child cry
The tears he sheds are not with pain
He’s crying for his aeroplane
He runs along the roadway fast
Flapping his arms really hard
He lifts his feet from off the ground
Suddenly he is in the air
Speeding forwards in headlong flight
The wind ablowing in his hair
It’s fair to say he’s not a plane
But he will never walk again
The magic of flight is his for life
He’ll soar and swoop, dive-bomb his friends
He’ll travel far on journeys grand
This happy carefree flying lad.




Joined January 2008

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Artwork Comments

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  • papadad
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