Best Biking Poems
What makes the hiking up mountains more striking?
What makes the driving more fun than arriving?
What makes the ocean-ing worth the sun lotioning?
Gear!
Gear makes the biking much more to my liking,
Gear makes the camping way less spirit-damping,
Gear makes the gardening less callous-hardening,
Let's hear it for Gear!
Now softball-leaguing is way more intriguing,
Now boogie boarding is much more rewarding,
Now even jogging feels less like a flogging,
3 cheers for the Gear!
Titanium! Spandex! Aluminum! Latex!
Hi-tech! All-weather! Light as a feather!
No wonder I struggled for many a year -
I had not the wherewithal to buy the gear!
leathered, head to toe
mounting up the horse I know
arms holding on tight
My bike was transportation; Mom didn’t drive
But sometimes I sped off on an adventure
To Telegraph Hill the miles were only five
Big sis and I made the ride a joint venture
What she didn’t know was the trek was uphill
Although one could coast nearly all the way back
The journey before us sis tried to fulfill
Red faced, she screamed, “I’m having a heart attack!”
“Keep pedaling,” I said, “we’ve two miles to go.”
It was then we made the ice cream sundae bet
The last one home would have to shell out the dough
By determination my sis was beset
At the top of the hill I took a brief rest
I looked down the long road; sis was not in sight
I was just eleven and filled with such zest
The exhilarating ride gave me delight
Far down the road, sis was attempting to ride
Her pace was slow; on her face was a scowl
I called to her, “Hey, just put the bet aside!”
She was closer now; I thought I heard her growl
Eleven years older, she’d something to prove
Heading back I soared past her down the steep hill
When my sis reached the top, she could barely move
More than a ride, this was a test of her will
About an hour after I arrived at home
I washed up and changed for my big ice cream treat
She came into view; in her mouth I saw foam
Sis was walking her bike, her trip incomplete
At age twenty-two, she collapsed in the yard
Mumbling something about sibling rivalry
She’d never dreamed a ten-mile trip would be hard
Mom tried to take her to the infirmary
The sundae? It was yummy, but sweeter still
Was beating my over-confident sister
My big sis had failed in this arduous drill
Her aches told me this ride would not reoccur
*Entry for Gwen’s “My Bicycle” contest. (True Story)
ride my bike in the chill
around the Titanic decks. . .
hope to ride till we dock
sun glints off binoculars
pedal faster to new york
Splish, splash, splosh
Can't see your tears when in the rain
Drizzle and downpour awash
Raining cats and dogs insane
Spitting, torrential, dribble in raindrop town
Bucketing down, chucking down
Pouring down, pelting down
In raindrop town
The sky flashes all around you
Cycling in the rain at its best
Miserable at its worst, thru and thru
I enjoy cycling sooo much, me at·test
During bucketing down, pouring down
All along, riding in raindrop town
Biking through Salt Lake City
Homes of well knit, croquet stature
With Oxford fountains flowing
Forcibly pin my eye
I pedal a block to see streets missing teeth
Bank signs, chipped paint and amazon lawns
Flora and fauna
The most common residents
In Rainforest Land.
Mist touch my skin
Shivers cold feeling inside
Down to my spine.
One nerve-wracking race
Is motor bike cliff climbing
Grand finesse with grace.
Rainforest comfort:
Snug bed, gentle raindrops
Chilling perfect view.
I hear and see frogs
Chattering on wet bed rocks
As I passes by.
One day,
I woke up and jumped
on my new blue English bicycle,
the outside rushed upon me,
crisp and fired up with that final fierce snap of autumn.
The garden state, awaiting it's signal from winter,
sounded the trumpets of the explosions of ornamentation,
leaves,
moving with the force of a falling sun,
from yellow to that final blood spilled aura of red,
matching the color of mama's knitted red sweater,
that blew around my shoulders,
and I became a wild eyed papoose,
on the back of a bike,
pedaling with the roar of the November wind,
faster, uphill, then down,
til I saw the refuge of the hundred year old house,
and joined Amy,
the old woman of that village,
who housed a hundred cats.
I see wildflowers
Bloom inside rainforest realm
Rarely seen in reels.
I see butterflies
In various shapes and colors
Flapping over me.
Inside rainforest
Traveling using big bike
Awesome trailblazer.