Best Handle Bars Poems

Playing Batman and Robin is a lot different

When the Riddler is your Stepfather

And simultaneously an alcoholic and pedophile

When your secret mission is to keep him

From bringing heroin and ***********

To Gotham city

 

Your mother wanted to save you both

But Catwoman captured her

And held her six children...

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Cohabitating with your floral penance,
I slow grind
With
Memories

All metaphorical bets,
Off

Jumping head first

Another solemn wish
Unto you
To caress my smile

Another didactic breath
For your silky, titanium retinas
To share this potent sway
Against time

I, grip
Rusty handle bars to ride
Upon your caramel sunsets

Sweetened with diabetic urges,
Feening
Feening

Inject me towards unbridled upbringings,
Chrysanthemum sentences
Etched upon...

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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...

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I rode my little bicycle 
Down the little street,
I pushed the little pedals
With my little feet,
When my little bicycle
Hit a great big bump,
I flew over the handle-bars
And landed with a thump.
I pushed my little bicycle
Home to see my mum,
She put some little band-aids on
Where I...

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Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .

Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it...

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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Way Down South           
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: June/2014


Growing up
way 
down south 
in
Florida -

was like
a 
fiesta -

We would
go to
the
beach,

swim, run,
and 
play

in 
the white 
sand -

and
soon as 
we
get home,

It was 
time 
to raid 

the 
sugarcane 
farm -

Life
was sweet,

in
the
Sunshine
State -

Each day
was 
better than
the
day before -

We 
had good
fun
times -

pushing
our
box cars,

made
from old
veggie crate's -

And

Roller 
Scooters, 

made
from scrap
wood -

We had
roller skates,

the
metal...

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Boring summer
Idle time and
Empty streets
Endless days
Watching cars
And spinning dreams.
Sitting
Feet on the ground
Looking down
For something to see
Music drifting
Through open windows
Words from a song 
"It hurts to be in love"
Made me feel 
Lost
Somewhere between fourteen and twenty.
A shadow
Tall and straight
Broad shoulders
Athletic gait
No mistake
My uncle
Stanley. 
Iron man
Strong hands...

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my first set of wheels
fringed out handle bars with horn
little red bicycle...

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When I think of you

When I think of you, I  think of the needlessness
of such thoughts too. Because it is as  simple as 
who but you that’s saved in my mind’s memory bytes.
When I think , I think of the cliff by the...

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Miss Auchterlonie was my teacher
In the sixth grade and I was happy
I loved her figure and features
And she even dressed real snappy!

My love for her would not be denied
I'd impress her with my model cars
It would be cool if she would ride
On my bicycle handle...

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My first tricycle should have been built for two
My baby sister jumped on the back
Down through the woods we zoomed
Running into a tree, I scraped my knee
Across the handle bars she flew
My beautiful tricycle could not be fixed
The cuts and scrapes were only small knicks
We...

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Just need that feeling
That same old feeling
At 10 years old 
Riding my yellow
Banana seat bicycle
That sweaty afternoon
I jumped on not sure 
Where I'd end up
Just needing that urge
To steer and go
Anywhere I wanted
Grabbing those handle bars
I jerked them left
Then jerked them right
Making sure it was me driving 
The...

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Curlews crake against white limestone walls
Their echo shrill in the early mist 
Wake those who danced the night before
As bog sighs from heat release and black water buzzes
The insects a top scoot in siderwinder display
Heather hangs over and down to the slime in purple and...

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Anonymous Rose

As a mid-teenager innocently experimenting and soaked from a bottle

My best mate and I were drunk as two skunks he a bit less than I

We had not managed the golden mean of balance as proposed by Aristotle

Swerving and falling he got me home though...

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I was pretty cranky when my spanky new bike was janky.
The frame was too short for my body, too tall and lanky.
The tires too fat, too hard to push up boggy maintain trails.
The deal I got clearly a lemon janky, all wrapped in hanky-panky.

The bike...

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