Am I repeating myself when I say, I love to go exploring in the wilds of the west of ireland and would do so very irresponsibly. Just heading off where the wind takes me on my yellow bicycle, hauling it across bogs and ditches with only the sun and the mountains as my guide.
An odd time a friend will accompany me, a friend with a MAP! Oh how I laugh at his careful responsible ways
p.s this poem is NOT meant to rhyme, its suppose to be wild and irresponsible like its author.
THE MAP READER.
Forget your cars and motorcycles.
Forget your google maps and ipods
and choose the quiet of a bicycle
Just head away..
Take a road, the smaller the better
(she tries to untie a gate but ends up lifting her bike over)..
‘lose yourself for goodness sake!
(she is standing wild haired on the top of a mountain)
‘where is your sense of adventure’
(one foot now stuck in a bog hole).
How lovely to be wild and free
(there’s barbed wire caught around her wheel)
and carrying her bike across the lake
once more cries out
‘for goodness sake
get out the ordnance survey map’…