Mind That Bike!
I love to ride my push-bike, for there’s so much I can see,
Sitting on my padded seat and pedaling merrily.
But I’m watchful of parked cars, lest an open door appear,
That’ll quickly end my outing and rocket me through the air.
Such incidents can happen, and very frequently too,
Because so many drivers absent-mindedly such things do.
They fling their door wide open, which acts like a giant bat,
Halting innocent cyclists who invariably go splat.
There’s no time to ring a bell, or to tightly squeeze the brakes,
Hence one is quickly humbled, left nursing numerous aches.
’Though one scrambles to their feet to reduce humiliation,
Joints loath to co-operate present a complication.
There’s little time for greetings, nor for any pleasantry,
When one’s lying on a road, positioned most creatively.
Threats of further injury from juggernauts one can’t see,
Provide one with incentive to arise — albeit dizzily.
That is, of course, if one’s conscious, not counting little stars,
Or smiling to the chirping of joyful budgerigars.
And also if one’s body can heed signals from the brain,
That urgently are shouting, “Quickly! Staying here’s insane.”
The push bike one was riding now no longer looks the same,
It’s half the length and mangled, just a bicycle in name.
It’s now a thing of horror, likewise, the disfigured door,
That both cyclist and driver has left shaken and feeling sore.
Now, such could be prevented, if motorists checked to see
If there might be a cyclist approaching them silently.
A little more attention, and also, a bit more thought,
Would save a lot more cyclists from aping an astronaut.
By Lance Landall
Dear Aunty May
My dear Aunty May — we’re having a wonderful holiday,
We’ve not had a drop of rain, nor heard thunder-claps since yesterday.
We’re never short of fresh water — in fact, it’s up to our knees,
And we’re not being battered by wind, as it’s now dropped to a breeze.
Our food supply seems endless, it just keeps going around,
Probably due to the water circling knee-high off the ground.
We’ve clambered up a hill-side, found a rustic little hut,
That from a scenic viewpoint, miraculously seems to jut.
We’re itching with excitement, though that’s more to do with fleas,
And the air’s so refreshing in-between each hearty sneeze.
We’re sleeping beneath the stars as the roof has bid farewell,
And our thin summer blankets are helping keep out the chill.
Our car is nice and handy, we can just make out its roof,
The seats we’ve just had treated — we’re so glad they’re waterproof.
Our tents safely in the boot, though we’d rather have it here,
As someone else has joined us...oh, actually...it’s a bear!
I’m off back down the hill now, though sliding’s a better word,
And judging by the noises — the family, last I heard.
We’re seeing sides of nature that we’ve never seen before,
But a hill-side, on my backside, is a line that I must draw.
It’s a shame you can’t be here, for we’re having so much fun,
I warned you you’d be sorry, but a fine excuse you spun.
We’ll let you see the photos once our camera’s retrieved,
For unless those shots are seen, all our fun won’t be believed.
Oh, we may be a little late, as I wish to groom the car,
It’s smelling a little stale — I guess that’s the reservoir.
We’ll probably need a bath, and will want to head to bed,
So, don’t stay up, aunty May, we’re adventurers born and bred.
By Lance Landall
I'm Baffled
People are most intriguing — yes, they completely baffle me,
For they’re so unkind to themselves, judging by the things I see.
You wouldn’t think that they would be, but the following I’ve seen,
Which has got me wondering, “Do some folk have a faulty gene?”
Oddly so, I have regularly seen both males and females
Biting their tongue and chewing on their lips, or their fingernails.
They may think such is tasty, but it’s cannibalistic!
And, I also hope and pray, rather uncharacteristic.
They regularly pinch their nerves — I wonder how that must feel? —
Or they pinch themselves somewhere else to see if things are for real.
Such must be rather painful, and it seems like abuse to me,
And surely all this pinching really isn’t necessary.
Yes, it’s so amazing what people do, like stubbing their toes,
And I have seen fingers in ears, and dare I say it — a nose!
There are better usages for fingers — licking them for one,
After you have scraped some icing off a large raspberry bun.
Some people tug on their ears, scratch their heads, and even elsewhere,
And for some reason, some beat their chest, even pull out their hair.
Some even bang their elbow, rub it raw — and say, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"
Which won’t help their elbow, nor will screwing up their face somehow.
I’ve actually seen some tearing the hairs off their legs too,
And yelping as they do so — yes, there’s a right hullabaloo.
And others cake themselves in mud, and put veggies on their face,
Or put holes in their body, and seemingly any old place.
I've seen some skinning their knees, and grazing their poor knuckles too,
Or straining their neck or back via some funny things that they do.
It’s really got me baffled, for it doesn’t make sense at all,
And nor does wearing high heels — ops! — I’ve just seen somebody sprawl.
By Lance Landall
