Skip to main content

A Flight Of Fancy Poem

 This post concerns itself with imagination and a touch of nostalgia. 

Our imagination shines with a glittering intensity during early childhood, no doubt about it. I am regularly watching my granddaughter delve into her strong imaginary world. It is wonderful to watch her create worlds and characters with much delight.

When I was a small child, I recall relishing the thought of being able to fly like a bird, glide like a butterfly and soar above the ground. I imagined being invisible. I envied those creatures who could walk across the ceiling in the manner of a housefly, a gecko, or a spider.  I was in awe of their ability to stick to walk up walls and stick to the ceiling.  I would sometimes lie on my back and imagine walking across the ceiling.

So, this poem, 'A Flight Of Fancy' is a salute to those far off days of vivid imagination and all the rich thoughts swelling around that time in my life. What were your weird and wonderful imaginings as a child? Do you recall some of your playful and fantastic ideas from those earlier times. 

Maybe, just maybe, there's a poem inside you, ready to be made... 

The version of the poem featured here first appeared in one of my writer's notebooks. Coming across it recently prompted me to create this Poetry Friday post. 







A Flight of Fancy

Last evening, after dinner
I looked up at the sky
And immediately decided
It was time for me to fly

So I stood out in my backyard
And promptly closed my eyes
And slowly, oh so slowly
I just began to rise
 
I flapped my arms
Like eagle’s wings
Up and down
In gentle swings
 
I rose above
The houses tall
The local park
The shopping mall
 
I then glided down the valley
Rose over hilltops tall
I skimmed across the lowlands
And heard the river’s call
 
I floated over my own house
Before descending on the lawn
A rather gentle landing
In the misty air of dawn.

©Alan j Wright






It's Poetry Friday and this week, our host is Catherine Flynn from Reading To The Core. Catherine has written an  'abecedarian' poem  reflecting upon the ABCs of Teaching. She uses this form to organize her reflections about all she's learned about teaching children over the past 27 years. Catherine's poem lands as the American academic year draws to a close, following another tumultuous year for educators all around the world. 

Comments

  1. Love that line, "the river's call..." I've been relaxing along a river and it's so beautiful...it holds a life all of it's own separate from people and dares me to try to capture it. Beautiful poem.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The sight and sound of water is generally a calmative, Linda. Glad you enjoyed my little flight of fancy.

      Delete
  2. I wrote about granddaughters who are changing, Alan, remembering all their play time of imagining, too. I, too, remember imagining flying. I sat often in a tree, reading, thinking, & the flying came from wanting to be a bird! I enjoyed your 'journey' flying over all your places, favorites? And especially love that opening stanza.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. We are yet again in synch, Linda! Trees were a great vantage point to viewing the world and imagining, no doubt about it. Pleased that you found connections in my poem. And, yes , my flight did include a few favourite places.

      Delete
    2. Alan, This is a wonderful poem! Capturing the imagination of childhood is a tonic that should be bottled and given to all adults! I remember marveling at my boys' imaginations. One had an imaginary friend, another was always good at inventing, and the third drew imaginary towns and churches (he's now an artist). Creativity needs to be cultivated in our young and so often it's not. Thank you for opening a whole new world of prompts for me!

      Delete
    3. Thank you for your thoughtful response, Carol. You capture some significant manifestations of childhood imagination in your recollections. Recollections that further prompt my own thoughts. I thoroughly agree with you regarding the fostering of creative thinking. So important.

      Delete
  3. Alan, my above comment is from Carol a https://theapplesinmyorchard.com/2022/06/24/poetry-friday-a-new-chapter/ I sometimes have difficulty with blogger accepting my wordpress URL. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Carol, That's all a bit frustrating, so I thank you for your 'stickability.'

      Delete
  4. Your poem takes us on a journey in this flight through your imagination! How delightful that you're getting to witness your granddaughter's flights of imagination as well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Elisabeth. I am indeed most fortunate to be sitting in the front row as my most engaging granddaughter waltzes through her many worlds.

      Delete
  5. My childhood imagination kept me more rooted to the ground -- I longed to be a horse! That would be a whole different poem!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Run wild, run free, Mary Lee. Your poem would cover a whole different experience, no doubt, but what fun...

      Delete
  6. Like Mary Lee, I never imagined flying, but I was constantly climbing trees, so I guess I was longing for a bird's-eye view. I love the way your poem takes us all around the neighborhood, then "down the valley" and into the wider world.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Trees elevated us, providing a wonderful perspective on the world below. My poem was a journey above and beyond. I am also a lover of trees and your comments strike a chord. Maybe, I could 'branch' out...

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life Cycle -A football poem by Bruce Dawe

This poem by Australian poet Bruce Dawe epitomises the unique connection sporting tragics have to their preferred football teams, -an almost tribal allegiance. Each season supporters stare down the twin imposters- victory and defeat. They remain both loyal and hopeful of eventual triumph. This poem refers specifically to Australian Rules Football, but it's themes are universal. I share this poem on the eve of the 2017 Grand Final to decide the Premiership for this football season. My team, the Richmond Tigers have reached the play off to decide the ultimate victor. They have not contested the Grand Final match for 35 years. My hopes fly with them. This poem links two of my great loves -football and poetry... Life Cycle When children are born in Victoria they are wrapped in club-colours, laid in beribboned cots, having already begun a lifetime’s barracking. Carn, they cry, Carn … feebly at first while parents playfully tussle with them for possession of a rusk: Ah, he

Poetry Friday: The Safety Pin Poem

Poets not only write poetry, they also read poetry. In order to be able to write poetry, one must read it. Lots of poetry in fact...  I want to share a short little poem by Valerie Worth. I bought Valerie's book, 'All The Small Poems And Fourteen More,' while living and working in New York, some time back. It remains a personal favourite.  I love the way the poet shines a special light on everyday objects, transforming them into something unique and worthy of attention. Her close observations elevate her poems into the special category.  Each poem in the collection celebrates earthly wonders. From eggs to garbage, from potatoes to pockets, each object is given special attention in the form of short poems employing keen observations.  Valerie Worth demonstrates through her poems she totally understands the saying-'ideas exist in things.'  The poem I have chosen to share with you (one of my personal favourites) is titled, 'Safety Pin'. S af

Opposite Poems

O pp o s ite P oem s In his book, ' How To Write Poetry,'  Paul Janeczko presents the idea of opposite poems. Paul suggests they could also be referred to as antonym poems. This is wordplay and it's fun to try. Here are some examples Paul provides to help us see very clearly how these short little poems work. I think the opposite of chair Is sitting down with nothing there What is the opposite of kind? A goat that butts you from behind Paul Janeczko You will  notice the poems are written in rhyming couplets. They can be extended so long as you remember to write in couplets. Paul shows us how this is done. What is the opposite of new? Stale gum that's hard to chew A hot-dog roll as hard as rock Or a soiled and smelly forgotten sock You might notice that some of Paul's opposite Poems begin with a question. The remainder of the poem answer the question posed. Opposite poems are a challenge, but it is a challenge worth trying. Not e