Best Bikes Poems
Matchstick Bikes
To tinkers and toilers
I salute,
From mending boilers
to weaving jute,
Man and boy
for generations,
I will unemploy
your occupations.
To brewers in sheds
I sink a few beers
To wet the heads
of our engineers,
From flat cloth caps
to matchstick men,
I will see the collapse
of pushers of pens.
To bakers, tailors
I wish you well,
To the soldiers and sailors
who fought and fell,
From doctors, nurses
to hobnail boots,
I will give your purses
to thieves in suits.
To the grieving docks
I drink a toast,
To tackle and blocks
and shipyard ghosts,
From warehouses, workshops
to fishing trawls,
I will flick my mop
in empty halls.
To union dues
I shake your hand,
To cleaning loos
and farming land,
From railway gauges
to industry,
I will turn the pages
of history.
To factory lines
I raise my glass,
'Neath abandoned mines
of times now past,
From overtime
to austerity,
I will frame the grime
for posterity.
To the silent mills
I tip my hat,
To what ever ills
and this and that,
From a steelworks spew
to a builders hole,
I will stand in a queue
to draw my dole.
To finance, the city
I bow in awe,
To show no pity,
to flout the law,
From sellers, buyers
to pickets and strikes
I will slash the tyres
of your matchstick bikes.
© RJVHorton2016
Beetles on wheels
Carrying lazy men or women
On their dead backs
Time is ticking down
I’ve got eighty yards to go
It’s the last game of the season
The fans are sitting down
Our mascot is a clown
And I don’t even know the reason
Coach signals in a play
I get flagged for delay
The defense has eaten my receivers
My wristband is befuddled
Bill collectors in the huddle
My sports agents, they are all deceivers
The center snaps the ball
The linemen take a fall
I am being rushed by the Hulk and the Thing
I am scrambling about
Trying to scream and shout
While the running back is counting up his bling
Before they kick my ass
I fire off a pass
And it is floating towards our end zone
Suddenly I am standing there
The ball coming in the air
And I’m talking to my mother on the phone
I want to be the hero
The scoreboard clock now shows zero
And the ball just continues above to float
The paperboy starts to shout it
“Everybody read all about it”
As the headlines say that I am the goat
The ball zooms over head
Coach Lombardi now is dead
The cheerleaders put their pom-poms away
I remain standing all alone
In the now empty end zone
Wishing I could run just one more play
My wife and kids have left me
I have grass stains on my knee
They now live with the winning quarterback
I fail in my audition
For the announcers position
And revive myself from a heart attack
My life is incomplete
As I hang up my cleats
My jersey number will not be retired
I try going home
To the place where I was cloned
And as the high school football coach to get hired
I drink myself to sleep
Praying my soul to keep
And wondering what happened to my life
The obit is really small
No accomplishments are recalled
I am buried still wearing my Bikes
What's with you all guys in
your spandex on spokes,
bearing down like demons
on us poor ambulating folks?
It won't be so funny,
surely no little joke,
if you crash into us
we'll (both) look like
broken egg-yolks
So, try to have courtesy
at least, show some respect
cause when you're
travelling that fast,
who knows what to expect
they have a map guild
its a smooth ride
your the boss
its a low cost
take a hike
theyer a blue
for you too
so takt a hike
on the
CITY NEW BIKES
My Bike exercise Ride
I have a bike , that stand still
No matter how much I peddle
But when Im riding this bike ,
I'm off in a dream a yonder
Im off to all the places
That I would love to go
I ride my bike to the sea
And all the way home
I go up in the mountains
And the cloud is down below
the sun shines all the time
And there's snow all around
I love to ride my bike
It takes me to my dreams
I so enjoy my morning ride
In among the trees
All the tracks around the wood
And though the tall bracken
The birds sing amongst the trees
And the woodpecker keeps knocking
And on a new dawn when I'm wide awake
I can cycle to the lakes
There's Rhododendrons all in bloom
A bright purple shower
the water ripples in the breeze
And hovering just above
Is the most beautiful dragon fly
It's blue and green and silver
And flying over the Lillie pads
Are tiny knatts all hovering
And all the lilies are out in bloom
A wonderful pink splender
I can go off into town
In all the hustle and bustle
And stop and talk to any one
And talk about the weather
The market stalls are so busy
Selling there fruit and veg
There's lots of bargains you can buy
My dream just carries on
And As I peddle off again ,
I'm think we're to go,
I can go any where
My dreams would like to go
And even though I'm standing still
You only have to close your eyes
And dream of all the places
Your exercise bike might ride
Susan Gage.
O
The deadly white of winter had descended.
Mountain high piles of snow braced the phone poles.
Mufflers donned we left for school unattended
for mother lay crying in her bed, we were not whole.
Father left many nights ago it seemed
we did not know the why, the what or when, just then
what would we do for Christmas, mother screamed.
In this earthly sorrow two little girls cried again.
All of eight was I, and she was but three,
No tree was dressed within the cold, white, rented farm house
only paper chains no sweet cane candy
the kitchen cupboards were bare even for the mouse.
The night bleak, mother pulled us on a sled
to Gran's we went, through snow and cold for dinner time.
Ma's heart had gone, when Father left her bed
Downcast, we trudged without Daddy's car, we climbed.
We came home and settled in, night brought surprise
our Daddy had come home, and it was Christmas night
he brought me a bike, a green and white prize
But all I cared about was the smile in his eyes.
What's cooler and juicier
Than a long-striped rime of green,
Whose internals are fortified with
An explosion of mesmerizing desire?
Or a total circle of green without stripes,
Protectively enclosing the best of eats,
Thoroughly permeated by the color of pure red,
And speckled throughout with seeds of black?
Or if you prefer, no seeds at all to delay your treat.
And what's more tastier my friend, than a softly textured cut
Of mouth-watering goodness bite after bite after watery bite?
An oasis of succulence and sweetness to the taste of healthy Goodness awaits our sense of taste each summer with nothing To prep; nothing to waste. A watermelon sweet and cold is Like A free-wheeling bicycle ride along the countryside.
070422PSCtest, Watermelon contest, Mystic Rose Rose
Wonder how police on bikes arrest people
"Alright, get in the basket, you did something illegal
Get your bum in there
It's just like a chair
Feet away from spokes or we'll land on our keesters"
from trikes to bikes
to speed needs thigh straddled ~
male toy cycle
Hissing cars
Swishing trucks
Rumbling bikes
Life is a highway
Really?
Combusting cylinders
Pumping pistons
Turning crankshaft
Spinning flywheel
Engaging transmission
Motoring drive
Tranferring power
Rolling tires
Hissing
Swishing
Rumbling
Crash and burn
Life goes on
How do cops on bikes arrest someone
They say, “Get in the basket till I finish my muffin”
Now why do cops
Love donut shops
Donuts tend to make them big and strong and tough-n
Four pedals rusting --
screech of bikes
grates love’s uphill climb
................
Biker’s Dozen for Maureen McGreavy
10/3/2018
On gravel mountain path,
underneath shadowed pine crowns: friends ride mountain bikes,
where none hath
neath sapphire sky.
Roller coaster, fun lighting strikes,
runs bye.
Wearing
down bends, turnpikes,
in
swooping dust inward wrath.
Their enlivening heartbeat spikes.
Win!
4/3/2022
Minichu
6 12 3 -4 8 2 -2 4 1 – 6 8 1
Aba, cBc, dbD, ABD.
Along the hikes of thunder spikes
The rest of us are scared
Nobody likes the lightning strikes
That catch us unprepared
Except the tykes who ride the bikes
That somebody repaired.
Submitted to the
Bite Size Poem no17 Poetry Contest
on August 15, 2021