Best Cycling Poems
My granny rode a bicycle
Till she was eighty four
We had to take it off of her
We couldn’t take no more
For every day she lost it
Forget where it was put
She’d find her way to our house
Arriving there on foot
“Someone’s pinched my bike” she’d say
“It’s gone, I don’t know where
Kids today are heartless
I’m sure they just don’t care”
We’d phone the local station
The bobby knew the score
As usually she left it
Outside the co op store
Reluctantly we did it
Went round to grannies house
Crept into the garden shed
As quiet as a mouse
Took our grannies treasured bike
Dismantled bit by bit
Collected up the pieces
And we threw them in the skip
PASSION FOR CYCLING
Coast to coast across England in one day
A hundred miles in one trip.
Bike like a rocket each sprocket fits its socket
With well oiled smoothness of clockwork
Feels good as chain clunks from one socket to the next
And the ticking whirring of freewheel
And zipping noise of fast tires on flat ashphalt
Hum a song to me as I lean over into the bend
And the bike leans with me.
Smooth road; never mind the few bumps;
And air so fresh you could eat it in lumps.
Aroma of York’s chocolate ten miles away,
Bread-baking and brewing downwind of Carlisle
Make me ready for dinner. And the strong
Odour of fish in North Shields,
Stink of cattle feed outside Goole,
Sickly smell of plastics factory, oil newly-refined,
Makes you see even if you’re blind.
Makes me want to pedal for home.
SPACE CYCLING,REVOLVING,
ROOM WITH NO END,
DARKNESS ENDLESS EARIE,
UNKNOWN. WORLD SOULSELESS,
ILLUSIONS OBSCURITY.
EYE;S BRIGHT,
SHARING BRIGHT,
SHINY TWINKLING,
SPARKING, FADED
SPACE TO THE OPEN MIND.
Cycling, the best sport ever
Nothing compares to the simple pleasure,
Of riding a bike, it never gets easier,
You just have to go faster,
No disappointments, all is happiness
The accessible sport on the planet,
That gives enormous sense of freedom,
There is less that can beat,
The beautiful simplicity of a bike ride.
The pain I’m feeling today,
Will be my tomorrow’s strength,
I may not be the best today,
Neither may I be the fastest,
But all it takes is effort.
It’s not a race, it’s a journey,
It reduces high blood pressure,
It’s not your hobby, but my inner peace,
It’s a flight from sadness, so just dream big,
And pedal it.
I am a cyclist and may not be the best,
But, that’s what I’m striving to be,
I may never reach there…”but”,
I’ll never quit trying, for cycling
Is the best ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
early summer morning
aroma of clover fields
~ feeling lucky
AP: 2nd place 2021
Lush greenery
Majestic scenery
Coconut trees wave in a track
Puff of clouds wave back
Droplets of rains
Fall again & again
Splash soggy ground
Bringing greenery all around
Village path air is so fresh
Heveanly to be here in flesh
Afar at a distance
Looks like timeless existance
Between hills a chimneys rising smoke
As we ride our cycles we are greeted by humble folk
Gentle moss lies still
Moulded on the broken door of the old mill
As into the distance we cycle away
From soil laterite to roads ash grey
Its my hope to raise the blooms
And hold this world into greenish rooms
It rained into dawn
The flood today is old pain
The heart eroded
I wade waist deep in
I should swim better in words
The promise drowned there
Next time I will touch
And feel what the eyes will miss
Love in countless clouds
The rain will end soon
And feet make prints in the sand
Memories made new
how does one suffer quietly?
never in my life was i disiplined
to bite my tongue.
i was told to feel it all.
like somehow feeling the bad
made all the good parts more deserving.
cry when you must,
but don't forget to watch the lilacs bloom.
i have saint matthew on my shoulder
and judas pulling at my wrists.
how is one to hold this wickedness
within such humble fists?
cycling through may,
i've seen every side of spring.
taken a glimpse at the morning glories' wake,
then watched them shrivel in to the evening.
i attended each ipomoea's wake
and paid my respects by grieving.
love like the flowers.
be bountiful and full of life.
be brave, for there is time to die
and a time to live.
chose to live while you have a body.
never mistake life for the afterlife,
or you will miss out on both.
Watch her ride.
Going on her own way.
Red hair streaming in her wake.
Watch her ride.
Still she wont stay.
Riding on till her legs ache.
Watch her ride.
Happy and gay.
Riding on with no mistake.
Watch her ride.
Simply for her own joys sake.
nipper is offline Reply With Quote
"Yesterday sometimes is a comfortable sofa where we want to be lazy, instead to keep on cycling on the given road". -by author
A time machine has not been invented yet, it would be nice.Very often we search in the drawers for our past, photos, letters, school mates and we even, don't know what.Time to time, we know what it is feeling blue, especially when we grow older and we remember about our best years. Who never looked for the best moments of their lives?.
Yes, I did. As the most of the human beings.
Good to remember where we belong to, without forgetting that we still have part of our life ready to be explored.
Never forget that while the moon
switches its light off, the sun will switches it on again.
A time machine to travel to yesterday
is all in your mind.
Cycling in the summertime is swell
The feel of the cool wind in your face
Riding through a level flowering dell,
Exhilaration finally winning the race.
The feel of the cool wind in your face
Sweet scents of blossoms inhaling,
Exhilaration finally winning the race
With tired and sore muscles entailing.
Sweet scents of blossoms inhaling
The sun feeling warm on your face,
With tired and sore muscles entailing
You accept your trophy with grace.
The sun feeling warm on your face
Congratulations on the victory won,
You accept your trophy with grace
The whole experience so much fun.
Congratulations on the victory won
Riding through a level flowering dell,
The whole experience so much fun
Cycling in the summertime is swell.
Written May 5, 2022
A wobble waiting in the shed
A joke cracked by Victorian comedians
A test of youthful instability
A trial by tarmac
An unyielding seat with changing views
A wetter way of travelling through rain
A soundless nemesis for pensioners
A tin-tack gathering machine
A complexity in ambulation
A tool used by the mad or desperate
A ticking mockery of balance
A frame for shaming the unfit
A creaking snail on hills
A public declaration of pretence or poverty
An undignified arrival and
A bait for thieves
Long ago duriong my childhood Hon'ble M.L.A.s attended state assembly riding bicycles.
Officers of the govt departmens and staffs attended their offices
riding bicycles.
Policemen in groups went riding bicycles to arrest roadside gamblers.
If caught they were taken to police station on bicycles.
At school our Headmaster, teachers and staff came on bicycles,
some on foot.
As for the students most parents did not allow them to wear long pants nor use bicycles till they clear H.S.L.C. exam.
So they went to schools on foot most of them for miles.
At the college principal, lecturers, staff and studens came riding bicycles.
There were long bicycle sheds in the campus.
But today a few people use bicycles
and on the roads and market places bicycle users are looked down
as poor and starving people
But I dont shed my old habit of riding bicycle
often bumming miles in the countryside.
During the coronavirus lockdown time and again I came out
of the confinement at my home initially with timidity
pedaling my bicycle wearing a protective mask.
Although on the road police stopped the four wheelers, auto rickshaws
and power driven bikes, detained the drivers
or made them turn back non of them stopped me
as they thought bicycle users harmless.
So during lockdown often I pedaled my bicycle to the foot of lonesome
Nongmaijing hill
enjoying the scenary and gentle breeze there,
looking at the egrets flying in the sky and landing on the barren rice fields,
taking snaps of the countryside with my smartphone.
I returned home everytime regaled
without any fear of getting infection with coronavirus
nor police stopping me on the way.
riding in tandem
rocky roads
feel less onerous
29/09/18
'Biker's dozen contest'
Sponsored by: Maureen McGreavy
My bike is powered by a need
To get to work, to earn a crust
To avoid a tedium of traffic jams
To get through this cold rain alive
To weave between the brutal cars
To end the journey and arrive
My bike is powered by a need
To re-live golden days we had
To be back with the ones I love
To save the planet from some pain
To heal my health and love the stars
To see and kiss your face again