Mobility Poems - Poems about Mobility

dense mobility of learners in chairless room stops at wet market...

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It's not so bad, I say, Part of our ride today, Health and mobility our stage, To this golden age, Wake up to say, "Let's get positive, yah!" Old power chaps and miss You have so got this, No need, negative blip, Ageing process is our trip!...

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Rise to the occasion Platform shoe trend Fashion history that came to an end Walking high Thinking tall Ever so careful in not to fall There’s a get up and get down Disco fever Back in the day platform shoes were the fashion Today they are a mention Men got plenty of attention Today’s heritage Honor with a privilege Head up Move bold Dance floor beat Platform shoes on the feet Man’s...

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There where nature manufactures an outfall, drop by drop, a river is born... The...

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They roam their territory, out in their jungle and with plenty too fell, it gives them a smile It is their mobility, that makes them agile with a sense of smell, here comes a new arrival Not being revolutionary, because their home is not vial they don’t have to yell, because that’s not their style Well known in history, to which...

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The Dial-a-Ride crew are here for you, ready with a smile we go the extra mile, take you door to door - who could ask for more ? We take your wheelchair for no extra fare, £3 each way is all you pay, so you can afford to come on board, call us now to find out how....

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I remember a time when I felt like being on the outside looking inside. It was a time of great intentions but very limited abilities to make changes. I knew that there were greater things to consider in my future. In time, those horse and buggie days gave way to the jet age. And since then, I have...

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Possession wonderful mobility of thumb Is an important feature of the human race, That feature separate us from the apes. But, for some people, it is the only one....

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As setting sun trails off behind a peak, I lie in utter lone tranquility here tethered to my earthly home. I seek a sundering. . . A new mobility. I focus on the hidden, inner me, forgetting awkward limbs and hands and toes. My body must entirely flaccid be, so placidly I keep a still repose that soul might elsewhere go...

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My Lord, you are the Poet, Who notes me with thy strong hands. I can only aspire to know it And extend thy word to all known lands. You have set in me for the sun A tabernacle for his regal throne, From which he arises for his daily run Throughout heaven's every zone. Each morn I await his excellent ascent. Onward with...

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