Best Bike Poems
Like a royal parade,
they waddled across
the well traveled thoroughfare
teeming with autos crawling to a stop;
otherwise road rage reduced to admiration.
The regal drake held his head high—his eyes
piercing straight ahead—oblivious to the traffic.
The obeisance of his trailing brace
reflected a solemn reverence to their chief.
A mother hen shot an evil eye to a baby Donald
who quickly got back in step before exiting onto
the dew laden emerald grass—Glistering.
With the aura of a spa for creatures
bearing wings or fins or tails, as well as feet,
the pond awaited them—one by one
quacking with pleasure as they entered.
As we mounted our bikes
to continue our ride, auto horns
began to honk and obscene words
abated the serene ambiance.
We were kissing behind the bike sheds
The future Mrs Bronte and I
Get yourselves up to see the head
We heard our teacher cry.
The headmaster said I'd gone too far
Practicing to save my future wife
I really shouldn't have unhooked your bra
Or given you the kiss of life.
We stood in his room in front of head
Our eyes looking down, both our faces bright red
Darren shifted nervously from side to side
Don’t worry Darren one day I’ll be your bride
I begged the head please don’t make us cool our ardour
In our biology practical we’d been told to try much harder
He said 'I was young once I’ll give you one more chance
I can’t stand in the way of a budding new romance'
Our classmates asked but we wouldn't tell
What the headmaster had to say
After school we stopped beside the wishing well
We passed along the way
We kissed each other then kissed our penny
Then watched the penny fall
The kisses we've shared over the years have been so many
We have no regrets at all.
16th May 2014
Written by Jan Allison & Darren Watson
Beneath a perpetual sky
Longing to perceive nature’s sigh,
In lanes of sparkling morning dew
Before ‘Draughton village’ we view.
Thunder lightning hoarfrost and hail
Sunbaked days when coasting the dale,
‘Bolton Abbey’ stone throw from home
Muscles taut, like a garden gnome.
West wind howling hard to face
When 'Crindles Hill’ did slow the pace,
Delightful scene when on the crest
Downward cruise gratifying rest.
This green bike bought from ‘Uncle Cliff’
Dreams fulfilled with chain driven diff,
Simple, yet it was nature’s plan
This childhood journey that began!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Bike Riding
Once, I was able to navigate my sleek black Fuji racer, sitting arrow straight, pushing hard, and hands at my side. It’s amazing to think I was able to maintain my balance, down hills, around
unyielding corners, no plastic garbage pail stuck on my head to protect what little brains I had in the first place. Ah, those were the days.
I was dashing and daring back then, hawk-like eyes focused, clear and bright. There was no need to squint until my head ached. I rode with a pack of wolves, flying maniacs all part of my tribe, hurling down streets littered with the remains of Detroit’s monsters. There was no sissy water bottle stuck on the frame, no reflective side mirrors to steer me away from danger. No, just a basic stripped down machine was all I needed as if I was a test pilot screaming past mach one, the rush of pure adrenaline.
Now, when I bike ride, I feel weighed down with the expectation of a crash landing about to happen. Flung backwards by the slightest breathe of wind, I choke the handle bars with white knuckled kid gloves with eyes glued to the road, I expect the worse is always about to happen, watching the odometer to gauge how far I have gone, and how much time I have left.
A bunch of dry lime leaves like schoolkids runs
across the street. Be careful, do not slip
on crispy morning frost. I see someone’s
bike on its side, its owner rubs his hip.
Are you okay? He is okay. A crow
pecks out a crumpled tinfoil. What's inside?
Alas, inedible. I’d like to know
what cars parked off the road dream of at night.
Oh, these wet dreams that make their windows sweat,
you’re definitely better, to misquote
Poe, than reality. A young brunette
next door walks her old dachshund in the coat.
That's how a pen of poet turns sometimes
a routine morning walk into the rhymes.
21.10.2019
Your Best Sonnet July-December 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
https://www.howmanysyllables.com
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Bike ride,
air through my hair,
sunshine dousing my skin.
Dirt and splashed mud cover wheels.
Sweat drips
heat rises, thigh to palm to cheek.
Music comes from nature,
leaf and rock crunch
below tire.
I like
my bike.
Riding,
gliding,
I view
sky blue
and see
grand tree.
Morn yields
corn fields -
Pasture
rapture;
Farm ploughs;
calm cows
lazing . . .
grazing
on grass
gone past.
Slow roam.
Go home.
Among the many things that sit
Forgotten in our shed,
My son’s old bicycle called out,
Just messing with my head.
I finally decided that
The time had come to see
If it could be restored enough
To get some use from me.
I dusted off the cobwebs,
Scrubbed the frame but after that,
I noticed that the tires were
Unfortunately flat.
We tossed the bike into the car
And drove to get some air.
Back home, I hopped on for a ride
Not thinking, do I dare?
With just one gear I pedaled on;
It made a clunky noise
And even though I fell (just once!)
It brought back childhood joys.
I doubt I’ll ride it very much
But when I can, I will,
As long as I don’t leave my street
And have to face a hill!
Bugs hitting my face
Wind in hair, feet on pedals
-Eleven again!
I love my fella dearly, though I sometimes do not like,
his pure love and devotion for his bloody mountain bike,
thank god I'm easy going and I'd never make him choose,
though perhaps a little bit of that's the fear that I might lose!!!
he keeps 'her' warm and dry as she resides in our front hall
(you have to hold your breath to squeeze between 'her' and the wall!)
he rides the bike to work and back, together they go far
just as well, for what 'she' cost we could have bought a car!!!
he talks about 'her' tenderly and often buys her gifts
for pedals, forks and special shoes the internet he sifts
he looked at me in horror when I suggested get a shed
i got the strong impression he'd put me in there instead
but i needn't speak to soon and bawl and fret and moan
as for my latest birthday I have got one of my own!!!!!
I
used to
love riding
my bicycle; now
pain!
Bad Day for a Bike Ride
Dr. James E. Martin
©May, 2013
He rode his bike up the hill,
Amazed that he could do it still.
On the way down,
A surprise he found,
He experienced an unexpected spill.
Anyone who mountain bikes on a wilderness trail,
especially where wildlife predators are known to prevail,
are all performing a very unsafe and dangerous thing,
that could end fatally or seriously life threatening.
Wildlife preditors like bears have very poor vision,
so when they see a blur moving fast off in the distance,
it looks very similar to prey desperately running,
and that will trigger the bear's predatory instinct,
and at the very least will pursue the biker for investigation,
and if you happen to mountain bike fast past a mountain lion,..
.. well, place a house cat on the floor and drag in front of it a string.
The mountain lion will respond to the biker in the very same fashion.
When it comes to wilderness trails, your safest option is walking.
I learned on a relic...quite bent out of shape,
rusty and dented..... and not even quaint!..,
An rattle-trap, hand-me-down, that had seen better days
A ten year old's wishes, had faded away....
But, then on my birthday, as I opened my eyes...
There sat a beauty, my birthday surprise
My very first bike.....shiny and red!!
My dreams had come true.....as I jumped out of bed!!!
I tore off the ribbon, to take a good look
No time now, for breakfast, no time now, to groom
I jumped into my clothes, and then burst from the room
Onto the sidewalk, and into the street
Shouting to everyone.. "Will you come, look at me??!!!"
With legs long and tan, I began peddling fast
The sun hid it's shine, the cold wind was brash
Breeze blew through my hair and into my face
With time on my side, I was winning a race!
We were sailing along, I could hear the wheels spin
Over the hills, where often I'd been!
Clutching the handles, pumping my knees
I flew past the graveyard, as I peddled with ease
Far down the lane that circles the fields
With rows of tall corn stalks, all waiting to yield
Passing the warehouse that sold Daddy's seed
I flew past the postman, and the church near the square!
A turn 'round the corner, the train depot there!
Splashing through puddles along the bumpy old track
My legs kept on peddling......with no looking back!!
Didn't notice the dark clouds or storm in the sky
The air was so sweet as I held my arms high
Was I dreaming? I didn't care...as I glided in time
All the happiness I felt, all the joy of that I ride!
I remember that birthday....that's been hidden inside..
Look at me!! Look at me!! On my red bike, it's me!!
Don't you see??!!! Don't you see!!! ... That young girl was me!!
Like a clock that's unwinding..!! That is me that you see!!
I remember....I remember....How happy and free
As those wheels spin beneath me
Look at me !!!!!!!!! Do you see??
Free as a bird....it is me, it is me!!!
Wheeeeeeeee!!!!
Sue got wedged on the exercise bike
And she doesn’t look so lady like
With both legs akimbo
She looked like a bimbo
Told the trainer to go take a hike!
20th July 2015