Left and right
Like day and night
That’s what makes the world go round
In and out
Thin and stout
That’s what makes the world go round

For every up there is a down
For every square there is a round
For every high there is a low
For every to there is a fro
To and fro
Stop and go
That’s what makes the world go round

You must set your sights upon the heights
Don’t be a mediocrity
Don’t just wait and trust to fate
And say, that’s how it’s meant to be
It’s up to you how far you go
If you don’t try you’ll never know
And so my lad as I’ve explained
Nothing ventured, nothing gained

You see my boy it’s nature’s way
Upon the weak the strong ones prey
The human life it’s also true
The strong will try to conquer you
That is what you must expect
Unless you use your intellect
Brains and brawn, weak and strong
That’s what makes the world go round

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

I am the cat

In Egypt they worshiped me-

I am the cat.

Because I bend not to the will of man

They call me a mystery.

When I catch and play with a mouse,

They call me cruel,

Yet they take animals to keep

In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.

They shoot, they hang, they torture them,

Yet dare to call me cruel.

Could they but see themselves

As I, the Cat, see them,

They think all animals are made for their pleasure

To be their slaves.

And, while I kill only for my needs,

They kill for pleasure, power and gold,

And then pretend to a superiority!

Why should I love them?

I, the Cat, whose ancestors

Proudly trod the jungle,

Not one ever tamed by man.

Ah, do they know

That the same immortal hand

That gave them breath, gave breath to me?

But I alone am free-

by Jacqui Woodward-Smith

Cold autumn pavements carry mourning,
your whispered voice drifts on the breeze,
but I can’t catch the words you send me,
like dying leaves lost to the trees.

I stand like stone on this cold pavement,
paralysed by all I feel,
but Dark Rhiannon surges past me;
Her dark-eyed challenge tinged with steel.

For I have been scarred by your passing,
your story carved into my skin.
Such beauty in the depths of leaving.
Such fear to let these feelings in.

I dread these waves that tower above me,
am threatened by the undertow,
but know that I cannot outrun them
and in their tides my healing sow.

This grief like horses drags me onward
When I would rest and dream you whole.
For I would die to journey with you,
but grief’s wild currents claim my soul.

And, if I dare, I will ride with them;
allow this pain to wash me wild.
Or I could stay on this cold pavement;
deny the woman, stay the child.

So you will journey with your dying
and I will journey with my grief.
But we will touch on this cold pavement;
love whispered in an autumn leaf.