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Flight, don't the senses awaken
      Flight, is the foe coming near
      Flight, for the pleasure of soaring
      Flight, in a panic of fear
      Fight or flight is a basic reaction
      Kill or run, the adrenalin high
      Take a run at the throat of the feared one
      Take a run and beat into the sky
      Flight, from the Red Baron biplane
      Flight, to the F-18 roar
      Flight, into space with Han Solo
      Flight, into never no more
      Take the sky, take the ground down below it
      Air attack, nothing stands in the way
      Win a war with a beat up observer
      We can't forget Enola Gay
      Flight, on a mission of mercy
      Flight, like the momma birds fly
      Flight, does the dove fly at all now
      Flight, bring us love from the sky

      fig bird

Mixed Flight

    Sitting in recliner-chair,
      Feet up off the floor,
      I ask myself, "For comfort,
      Could I really ask for more?"

      How would you like to be me,
      With a laptop on my knee,
      Typing out a verse,
      For better or for worse,
      Like a busy little bee?

      I feel my eyelids drooping,
      See blurring of desktop,
      And hastily take measures,
      In case laptop should drop!

      I'd love to stay awake
      Throughout both day and night
      Roving 'round the internet
      For a whole fortnight.

      But other things will intervene,
      LD will come today,
      Since I'm so nice, a four-hour drive
      Is a small price to pay!

      Now, speaking of the present theme,
      I quote from Omar's Persian dream:
      "Morning, in the bowl of night,
      Has cast the stone that put the stars to flight
      And, lo, the Hunter of the east has caught
      The Sultan's turret in a noose of light."

      Now, if you have a turret
      Hanging 'round all loose
      You, too, should go to Persia
      For a luminary noose.

      Strap it 'round your turret
      For all the world to see
      And no-one else will understand,
      Excepting you and me.

      le fantôme amical

 Wings of Flight

       When all was quiet
       And we were sad
       Thinking of the
       Times we'd had

       A butterfly
       Then came to us
       Flew around
       Without a rush

       Showed us how
       He'd been set free
       Drifting off
       Where we can't see

       Helped us know
       He's on his way
       We'll treasure this
       Each passing day.

       Written 1996

       Sharon K (slug)

 Fly me to where?

       Fly me to the street..
       ..and let me play among the cars..
       Let me dance among the ruins..
       ..of buildings and cheap bars..

       In other words...I'm a somnambulist


       der blumers

  No escape
       Once I flew
       Above a city
       Looking down
       It looked so pretty
       Didn't want to go
       Back there
       Getting smog
       Into my hair
       Didn't want
       To join the race
       Of rats, that run
       At a fast pace
       Wanted to
       Stay in the air
       The plane then landed
       Wasn't fair



       A flying hippopotamus named Flo,
       Just could not see which way to go.
       The clouds got in her eyes, and so...
       She went to ground; Flo flew no mo'. :(


 Flo's Flea

       Flo had a flea that 'round her flew,
       Around fat Flo that flea did fly.
       Then the flea flew into Flo's baby-blue,
       And was gone in the blink of an eye!


       Floe was a great big lump of ice,
       Floa-ting in the sea,
       A polar bear jumped up on it,
       Looking for a pea.

       I chopped a small hole in the ice
       And so as to cajole
       The polar bear I cast some peas
       To give the bear a goal.

       In order to acquire a pea,
       The bear did quietly stroll
       Towards the peas but then
       I kicked him right in the ice-hole.

       le fantome amical

The Return

       The kick that got the polar bear
       Right in the ol' ice palace,
       Was done to just remove him,
       It was not done in malice.

       But woe is me, alas, alack,
       The consequence is grim.
       It didn't just upset the bear...
       It infuriated him!

       He fell dodwn flat in anger,
       The rage made his temperature grow,
       And when that bear got really HOT?
       Why, floe began to flow!

       It started metamorphosing,
       Till ice was gone, and then...
       The bear was gone, the flow was gone,
       And floe was Flo again!


 Flo Flies

      Flo was so elated
      to be free from that ice floe,
      That she stretched her wings,
      And flew away, to Boise, Idaho.

      She lives there to this very day,
      Whick only goes to show,
      That never could you drown or ground,
      The flying hippo, Flo!

      Joe (Flo's husband, who's in the know!)

 No, but now she has
      Flo needed a job, so went to Peter Pan,
      Whose fairy star-dust sprinkler was on strike.
      He said to Wendy, "How can she help us,
      She's just a flying hippopotamus."
      Wendy said "Now, come on, Pete, be kind -
      She's only an axe-handle and a half across the behind."
      So Peter said to Flo "Ah! What the hell,
      You may take the place of Tinkerbell."

      le fantôme amical

 Tinkerbell's Revenge
      Now, Tinkerbell is dainty, as you know,
      With skimpy clothes, unsuited to the snow,
      She has to keep her star-dust all aglow
      Avoiding dumps like Boise in Idaho.
      Spreading out her gauzy wings in flight,
      Let her travel south with all her might,
      Until she reaches lands truly benign,
      Next to the International Date Line.
      Thus Tinkerbell can cast away her sorrow,
      Living here in Idaho's tomorrow.



      Flo steps again into a starring role,
      A happenstance that thrills her to the soul,
      For she has missed her life in Hollywood,
      Since retiring from the actress sisterhood.

      Her favorite role, renowned from here to Asia,
      Was starring in the Disney film, Fantasia.
      As Hermione the Hippo she was cast,
      Now fame's again within her reach... at last!

      But wait! She loves her life in Idaho,
      A lovely spot she shares with hubby Joe.
      And never would she want to oust The Tink...
      Why, what would all her fan club members think?!

      So with gratitude to Pete she must decline;
      This is the role where Tinkerbell should shine!
      And while Idaho may not be Paris, France,
      That's Where Joe & Flo live out their life's romance!

      Flo's Biographer

That's What YOU Think
      Flo, the Hippo, once swallowed a clock
      And Boise, Idaho, then went tick-tock.
      The boise (and goils), pro bono publico,
      Prayed to see the end of flying Flo.

      Haply for them, Pete Pan went out to sea
      Taking Flo, who dared not disagree.
      Soon they met the pirate, Captain Hook,
      Pete said "Here comes a fair old donnybrook!"

      "Look, Flo," he said, "when our ship's close to his,
      You fly there and around and 'round you whizz.
      Captain Hook will panic in a while,
      When your clock makes him think of Crocodile."


 All cast assemble for ship scene:

    Returning from a trip away
      I see someone called 'Flo'
      She's big and flighty, what is more
      She's always on the go
      She's been afloat upon the ice
      She's been to Idaho
      And now she's off to NeverLand
      Where next? I want to know!
      Will she fly into nextweek?
      Will she crash into the mast?
      I hope her wings can hold her weight
      Or she'll be in THE cast

      Lady D

Yeah, Well, All Right, Then
      Scene: The Idaho Coast
      Narrator: The friendly ghost
      The Cast: A crocodile, then
      About a dozen one-armed men.

      I saw a dozen one-armed men,
      Each with his stump in a sock,
      I asked them how this came about,
      They said "We wound the clock."

      A crocodile then appeared,
      Ticking like a bomb,
      "They wound my clock for Captain Hook"
      He said with great aplomb.

      le fantôme amical

 Further flowing

      Flo flew around the foremast
      And, when she had been whizzin'
      For a while, she shifted to
      The mainmast, then the mizzen.

      She's not the fleetest flyer, Flo,
      In fact I could be franker,
      She's less use as a flying jib
      Than as a bower anchor.

      (If she comes to New Zealand
      And largely lightens up,
      Our yacht could use some ballast,
      As it retains the Americas' cup.)

      Meanwhile, back on the pirate ship,
      Flo did what seagulls do
      And let one slip on Captain Hook,
      You might say a breakthrough.

      le fantome amical

Who's an Old Crock?
      When the crocodile came for Captain Hook,
      Because for old Hook's flesh it had a craving,
      It obviously needed human help
      So that it could observe the daylight-saving.
      It went to Peter Pan and said "Hey! Pete,
      Fix my clock and I'll pretend your arm's not made of meat."
      But Peter was a cunning sort who knew
      A thing or two.
      He reached in to the clock and changed its hands,
      The crocodile flexed its salivary glands,
      Peter said "Don't think you've got it made,
      That hand of mine has got a hand-grenade
      And, if you're wondering about the pin,
      You'd best believe it hasn't got it in!"


One fell out of the thrush's nest

      We found a little bird
      A baby with no tail
      In our yard, without a hope
      Of back to nest to sail

      It's mother chirping in the tree
      The little bird replied
      My daughter put it in a box
      And all the time she cried

      Her father searched the trees for nests
      He climbed up on the roof
      The nest too high to put it back
      This bird not weatherproof

      Then I phoned up bird rescue
      I feared for birdie's life
      I drove for 12 km or more
      To save that bird from strife

      And save my daughter's strife as well
      I know that nature's cruel
      But when there's something I can do
      I race head on with fuel

      And still my daughter's hurting
      For that bird that lost it's Mum
      And the Mum that lost its chick...
      I think her heart is numb

      I tell her now it has a chance
      And it will learn to fly
      Because of her and me and Pam
      That little bird won't die

      Sidetracking now, Pam's place was great
      'twas right beside the sea
      A yard of many types of birds
      All staying there for free!


 Not this One

      I'm a dinky little bird,
      Sittin' in the grass.
      I'll fly up to the highest trees
      And slide down on my hands and knees.

      And, so, it came to pass.

      Repsac Android