Flying can be fun.
Lots of sea animals enjoy it.
But so very few get the chance,
Because there's nowhere to buy a ticket.
Jumbo jets are great.
They're bigger even than whales!
How do they stay in the air?
Especially in storms and gales?
I particularly liked Concorde,
It went faster than a speeding bullet.
It inspired many flying fish,
Especially the flying mullet.
But the flying I like most,
Is with my own flippers.
I can utilise the ground effect,
And soar like kippers!
With my flippers outstretched,
I bound along ever faster,
And when I reach thirty knots,
I'm like a seagull from Craster.
I effortlessly cruise at thirty knots,
a few inches off the deck,
over seas, oceans, and even
the scorched desert plains of Quebec.
Once a flipper got overstressed,
And failed catastrophic.
With a bang and plume of fur
I lost control and went stratospheric.
Climbing high, rolling over, and hurtling down,
I curled up my flippers and took a gamble,
My downwards spiral was softened,
By landing face-first in a handy bramble.
A sticky-plaster is all it took,
To fix my flipper of frazzle,
And despite that incident
it's the safest way to travel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem