The Swallow and the Swift
Shall we sit for a while?
Said the swallow to the swift.
But the sun was so bright and the sky was all blue
So they ducked and they fluttered and they sang as they flew.
Shall we perch on that branch
While the others are at play?
We could sit and relax and just soak up the day.
But the wind was just right and the clouds were all white
So they carried on singing and flying about.
Shall we sit for a while?
Said the swallow to the swift.
You might find a rest makes you fly with more care
We could watch out friends play from that tree over there.
But the swift was busy singing and flying about in the air.
Come now winged friend, come and sit for a while.
So they sat and looked out as their friends danced about
From their perch in a tree they rested their wings
And swift shivered a little as the spinning slowed down
She was scared she might wobble and fall down from that tree
But she felt there and then, then and there she was free.
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Head Rush
In disarray my head hurtles from pillar to post and back again
Careless of the time spent in between
In fact it’s enjoying the ride
Uncertain where is home and where is ill.
Sophie Lynch
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Feeling that you’ve lost this round,
you might decide to wait
for one more compensatory twist of fate.
Having spun and lost so many times
you think:
‘It’s only fair I win this game,’
forgetting that each time you spin the coin
the odds remain the same.
For all you wish that there’s a pattern to your pain
Nothing says that fate won’t twist and twist and twist again
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The Gambler's Fallacy
Feeling that you’ve lost this round,
you might decide to wait
for one more compensatory twist of fate.
Having spun and lost so many times
you think:
‘It’s only fair I win this game,’
forgetting that each time you spin the coin
the odds remain the same.
For all you wish that there’s a pattern to your pain
Nothing says that fate won’t twist and twist and twist again
Ned Palmer
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Sunday evening and it's cold and quiet out. Lights from the houses lining
Josephine Avenue shed a warm orange glow onto the street and other than
the odd car rumbling past and irregular shouts from the main road, all is
calm.
But do not be fooled by this image of suburban tranquility for if you
trust in rhythm and do not run in fear from routine then allow yourself the
pleasure of believing that somthing will soon be breaking the silence...
in fact, do not doubt it.
Sure enough as the clock trips on idly past midnight a new sound can be
heard in the air, a whizzing rhythmic tone, not quite a whistle yet nearly a
tune. Round the corner at the north end of the street a shape whips in
and out of the shadows stretched out on the road. A step closer and voices
can be heard, no words discerned but a giggle plays out alongside a low
focused murmur.
Then, just as you begin to make out what the shape is, it has passed you
in a flurry of wheels and flickering lights. One pair of feet move round
and round urging the pedals on faster and faster. whilst another pair stick
out at right angled to the back wheels. The latter, if correctly executing
her role as passenger, is hanging on for dear life, body leaning outwards
slightly, head thrown back and a look of alcohol doused shock, mixed
with mounting glee flooding across her face.
The cyclist, in turn, is stretched forward, down almost onto the
handlebars, a cheeky yet urgent sparkle in his eyes. The rest of his body mirrors
the tone permanently set to reliable swiftness. Everything is leant
forwards, urging the bike onwards. Onwards and upwards....
“We'll have you home in no time my love.”
The Josephine Cycle Express runs regularly from the pub back home
despite any alcohol consumed by the driver.
Feel free to get a lift anytime!
------------------------------------------------------------
The Josephine Cycle Express
Sunday evening and it's cold and quiet out. Lights from the houses lining
Josephine Avenue shed a warm orange glow onto the street and other than
the odd car rumbling past and irregular shouts from the main road, all is
calm.
But do not be fooled by this image of suburban tranquility for if you
trust in rhythm and do not run in fear from routine then allow yourself the
pleasure of believing that somthing will soon be breaking the silence...
in fact, do not doubt it.
Sure enough as the clock trips on idly past midnight a new sound can be
heard in the air, a whizzing rhythmic tone, not quite a whistle yet nearly a
tune. Round the corner at the north end of the street a shape whips in
and out of the shadows stretched out on the road. A step closer and voices
can be heard, no words discerned but a giggle plays out alongside a low
focused murmur.
Then, just as you begin to make out what the shape is, it has passed you
in a flurry of wheels and flickering lights. One pair of feet move round
and round urging the pedals on faster and faster. whilst another pair stick
out at right angled to the back wheels. The latter, if correctly executing
her role as passenger, is hanging on for dear life, body leaning outwards
slightly, head thrown back and a look of alcohol doused shock, mixed
with mounting glee flooding across her face.
The cyclist, in turn, is stretched forward, down almost onto the
handlebars, a cheeky yet urgent sparkle in his eyes. The rest of his body mirrors
the tone permanently set to reliable swiftness. Everything is leant
forwards, urging the bike onwards. Onwards and upwards....
“We'll have you home in no time my love.”
The Josephine Cycle Express runs regularly from the pub back home
despite any alcohol consumed by the driver.
Feel free to get a lift anytime!
Sophie Lynch
