Best Handlebars Poems
Inhaling, hushed, from hashed cigars
my mind implodes in Malimar
where Naiads bathe in caviar -
I dream of dwarves and three-eyed tsars.
The captive kiss of Princess Mars
(who talks in tongues at seminars)
burns red beyond Her blue boudoir -
I writhe within Her pale peignoir.
Her Maids gloss lips with cinnabar,
bedizen cheeks in dusts that mar,
serve teas beside the reservoir -
I sip them from a samovar.
Disguised in smoke and lamps of spar
Her Genies gender gold dinars,
evoking flames in ginger jars -
I plea before the Commissar.
At Princess’ neighbourhood bazaar,
white shadows slip through doors ajar
to drape my dreams in ash and char -
I long await the Avatar.
Her Merchants (preening, proud Hussars)
paint pretty scenes on VCR’s
while sailing ships to Zanzibar -
I strum the strings of warped sitars.
Her Prophets sometimes cruise in cars
else while at each and every bar
to speak of space and time bizarre -
I pass my pride for small pourboires.
Her Necromancers trace in tar
tall tales of wisdom flung afar,
transported by the Registrars -
I hitchhike on their handlebars.
Her seers conjure repertoires
where She and I are on a par
in infinite surreal memoirs -
I sometimes sense the void is ours.
My Princess never sees the scars
cut by Her whispered “au revoirs” -
I often wake to ask ‘who are
these Gods that sail the distant stars?’
(Verse 1)
Rust on the spokes but the memory shines,
Dust on the frame like a map of old times,
Handlebars crooked from corners we’d take,
Chasing the sunset down every mistake.
Scraped knees and laughter stitched into the air,
Freedom was something we didn’t know we’d wear.
(Pre-Chorus)
No keys, no clocks, no place we had to be,
Just spinning wheels and a wild, wide “we.”
(Chorus)
Oh those old favorite bicycles, rolling through our days,
Chain-singing summers in a hundred golden ways,
Pedals pushing promises down every street we knew,
With the wind as our witness and the sky as our view.
We were kings of the cul-de-sac, queens of the lane,
Riding forever, never feeling the chain.
(Verse 2)
Bell that would ring like a bright little boast,
Racing our shadows we loved the most,
Trading our stories at the corner store,
Counting loose change for a dream and more.
Tires would whisper on warm, worn roads,
Carrying secrets only childhood knows.
(Pre-Chorus)
We thought the world was a circle we’d trace,
Round and around in that reckless grace.
(Chorus)
Oh those old favorite bicycles, rolling through our days,
Chain-singing summers in a hundred golden ways,
Pedals pushing promises down every street we knew,
With the wind as our witness and the sky as our view.
We were kings of the cul-de-sac, queens of the lane,
Riding forever, never feeling the chain.
(Bridge)
Now they’re leaning in garages, quiet and still,
But I swear I can hear them beyond the hill—
Calling my name in a soft, spinning rhyme,
Turning the wheels of a simpler time.
(Final Chorus)
Oh those old favorite bicycles, echo in my mind,
Rolling through the roads we can’t rewind,
But somewhere in the distance, in the dust and blue,
That child is still riding, still breaking through.
With the wind as a whisper and the past in flame,
I ride them again every time I remember their name.
Secrets,
now memories,
piggybacked through summer.
On handlebars, calloused fingers
steered dirt bikes to an emerald kingdom.
Two boys, on tree stump thrones, ruled worms
unearthed with splendid crowns
of sundrenched leaves,
carefree.
Written 2/27/17
Walking through the streets of my home town
Reaching for the Memories of days long passed
Seeing nothing of what I once knew
Accepting the fact
That I can never go back
To the time when doors remained unlocked
And no one ever knocked
When a whole section of town converged on one home
A death in the family brought neighbors to your door
There was a sense of community and
Dignity was not a status symbol
Wednesday's the miner rested
In the afternoon possibly at a local bar
While clothes lines decorated back yards
Clorox making it new again
Found a quarter equals five on the pinball unless
She was there
Making three and two cokes a better selection
Baseball glove dangling from the handlebars and
there was no charge for dreams
The park beckoned the wild bunch with a pack of Luckies
Never thinking twelve was too young
And not knowing
The tragedy of progress
Those days when friendships bonded a town
Anger only lasted until the fight was finished
There was a game tomorrow night
Winner and loser going to see it together
And the only real enemy was
TIME.
For half an hour,
he was a few feet in front of me,
trying to tame the little metal beast,
jittery under the torrent of none-too-gentle
dos and don'ts coming from me,
his 6-year-old legs getting bullied by the pedals,
his hands on the handlebars fighting the side-to-side
spasms of the front wheel,
all four limbs wrestling with the fear in his mind.
Then, suddenly, he was 20 feet ahead of me,
then 50, 80,
the short sleeves of his oversized tee-shirt flapping like
fledging wings,
his neck and arms looking especially scrawny in the
horizontal lift-off,
hair gelled by the newfound wind into an
aerodynamic crown,
all of him flying down the promenade of the
dusky park.
The world has many lessons in store to replace
the things I’ve tried
to teach him through the years.
Just not this one.
Let go of both the handlebars,
free the fireflies from mason jars;
Poignant lyrics sprung from memoirs
barz built for starz, barz built for starz;
So much fervor flooding the mic
moving across the stage catlike;
He’s controlling a missile strike
riding a bike, riding a bike.
My New Year's resolution
For twenty twenty-four
Is the same old resolution
That I made ten times before
I vowed to stop eating junk food
Like candy and all kinds of chips
So, that I could lose those handlebars
That have grown around my hips
I vowed to stop eating McDonalds...
And Wendy's and Burger king
And focused on eating better things
Like- Buffalo Wild Wings
I vowed to eat more fruits
Like- oranges, grapes, and cherries
So, I bought myself something good
A pack of Starburst's, flavored- Wild Berries
Hold tight you said, as I was spread across your handlebars
Don’t go so fast I screamed, my smile was fixed just like a mask
Increasing speed I feared this ride could be my very last
Then swiftly we began to rise up in the skies amongst the stars
Whilst riding past the fullest moon upon his bike we saw ET
Come home he called, just follow me, a chance to meet my family
Hold tight you said, as I was spread across your handlebars
Image 1
Written 16th October 2019
Contest Name: Make it Seven
Sponsor: Joseph May
Contest Strand Pick E
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
There are better ways to travel in town
Past crusty breads, savory cheese, desserts
Two legs move slowly unless pumping down
Move out of the way at expert exerts
On busy European streets, renowned
diving, left, right, recentering, on walk
Here come the bicyclists; they’re all around
You might have to trace my figure with chalk
A slow stroll on quiet streets, disturbed
Darting into cute little shops, askance
Handlebars swerving, our sweet snack is curbed
Waiting for signal that we might advance
On busy European streets, renowned
diving, left, right, recentering, on walk
Here come the bicyclists; they’re all around
You might have to trace my figure with chalk
Children holding on tight; they’re used to this
Going to school, not by foot or by bus
Whilst straddling bike, mama blows a kiss
They weave through traffic; we try not to cuss
On busy European streets, renowned
diving, left, right, recentering, on walk
Here come the bicyclists; they’re all around
You might have to trace my figure with chalk
A seething summer morning in the oil boom trailer park
Oral Roberts on the radio with the gospel told by Mark
The reek of raw petroleum is everywhere around
We little oil trash urchins play marbles on the ground
He drives out here most every day around the hour of nine
Checking all the trailer windows for a little cardboard sign
He parks the canvas-covered truck and dons his leather vest
Throws a tow sack o'er his back and shows his Sunday best
Down the drive comes Danny, on his mighty motor bike
Hanging on the handlebars, his bigger brother Mike
The engine makes a ton of noise, a dandy double stroke
Two baseball cards and clothespins, hitting every spoke
Our ragamuffin gang was gathered, just waiting for the time
To contrive our evil strategy and carry out our crime
“The iceman, the iceman!”, I hear my sisters say
“Y'all be quiet!”, I hiss to them,” You'll give us all away!”
The iceman sidles round the truck and casts the canvas back
Scores a hundred-pounder block and cleaves it with a whack
Tongs the icy burden to his back and laughs at what is left
Chunks and chips of frozen jewels, the targets of our theft
We want so hard to play it cool and act like we don't care
All our mouths fill up with drool and it's tricky not to stare
The iceman winks his eye at me and hides a little grin
Then walks up to the trailer door where mother lets him in
The moment that the door slams shut, the bandits make their play
With eyes lit up, we whoop and shout like kids on holiday
We suck up all the chunks and chips and with our bellies iced
We swagger off to brag about our frosty jewelry heist
It's true we didn't have a lot, perhaps enough to just scrape by
But the visit from the iceman was like Christmas in July
And when I pass through oilfield country, it never ceases to amaze
How the scent of raw petroleum brings back those icebox days
January 30, 2013
I was listening to oldies wishing the songs would not end
They carried me back to when time was a friend
A time when I wore a younger man's smile
Culottes, pedal pushers and love were in style
We rode our bicycles all over town
Put a flash light on the handlebars when the sun went down
Sometimes we'd gather in Dutch Hill Park
Play on the swings until well after dark
We smoked Luckies and Camels because we were men
Filters were for girls way back then
There were fights and laughter, sometimes a beer
A childhood lived without knowing fear
Mothers raised children, fathers worked hard
Wash was on clothes lines in the back yard
Somehow the bills got paid when they were due
Dads stopped on the way home from work for a few
Sometimes there were days without a penny to spend
Neighbors were family when time was a friend
We cherish those memories as we get old
Memories are more precious than silver or gold
I close my eyes say a prayer and to sleep I descend
Then dream of the days when time was a friend
With a smile upon my face and a twinkle in my eye
I rode my sister's tricycle with an accomplished sigh
Traveling as fast as my three year old legs could carry me
Feeling the wind in my hair, I was filled with joyous glee.
But my happiness was short lived and came to an abrupt stop
When my sister ordered me off her bike like a seasoned cop
"It's my turn and my bike", she said with an anguished pout
Then dad whispered in my ear, "Don't worry honey, it will all work out."
The very next day, I had a new tricycle of my own
Feeling for the first time that I was almost half grown
My eyes must have shone as bright as my shiny red bike
Till I noticed the jealously on my sister's face showed her dislike
There were beads on the spokes, streamers on the handlebars
The frame work was covered with many multicolored stars
Seeing the bike through my sister's eyes, I knew I would feel the same
Mixed emotions of love and seeing her hurt set my heart aflame.
I was torn for I loved the bike but I loved my sister more
Seeing her upset was not something that I bargained for
I thought to myself, a bike is a bike and to my sister I said:
"You can have the new bike, I'll take the old one instead."
As I watched my sister jump on my new bike and ride away
The connection between us grew even stronger that day
Over her shoulder she called out, "Come on Sis lets ride."
I knew I made the right decision by the warmth I felt inside.
For: Gwendolen Rix’s “My Bicycle” contest
April 29, 2012
Bright pink Apollo Candy bike
her smile as wide as handlebars
with new found freedom my young tyke
laughed as she tried to race the cars
Viv Wigley
25th November 2015
For contest 'A Christmas memory', sponsored by Broken Wings
Elegant in burnt orange afterglow,
sparkling starlight opens the show.
Neighbors and strangers appear all aroun’,
porch lights and car lights enlighten the town.
They arrive afoot and atop handlebars.
Tots wave from strollers like famed movie stars.
Mothers bellowing orders to stay in sight,
transgressors will rue being naughty tonight.
Flickering lights and untied laces
nudge fidgety feet through their paces.
Masquerade masks make eager accomplices’
too impish eyes and mischievous faces.
Scowling Jack-O-Lanterns carved in creepy effigies
prove impotent charms to appease candied fantasies.
Festooned arches adorned in orange and black,
ornate ornaments to win the neighborhood plaque.
Into the gauntlet of terror they swarm;
dressed to play in pillaging uniform.
Tree and flower tremble and quiver;
Bumped and trampled in their fervor.
Werewolves wailing through grimacing grins
herald a night of howling hymns.
Ghostly spirits from the bowels of earth,
hang from gallows, grinning in ghoulish mirth.
Silken chains embracing all who stray,
beckons the widow to her frightened prey.
Garnished by cackling cries of certain demise,
steaming cauldrons poach their pitiful prize.
Spades of woe shadow souls who rashly ignore,
ominous omens attached to windows and doors.
Like tocks from a clock they continue to arrive,
will the morrow find anyone left still alive?
Hostiles charitably looting town,
sacks of booty slowing them down.
Toting bags of looted plunder,
looming hordes scatter asunder.
Pass me by, to my neighbor grace his stage,
assuage with him your gluttonous rage.
Rapacious hands swaying in ritual dance,
exuberance untethered in blitzing advance.
Eyeing my castle the rioting rabble rush in,
guarded only by growlin’ dog an’ smilin’ pumpkin.
Upon my stoop they brazenly climb,
my breath on hold, I hear the chime.
My time I fear is near at hand,
my blood or treasure they demand.
Hunkered down and hidden from sight,
no mercy presented for my plight.
With sweaty palms and pounding heart,
please Lord I pray, make them depart.
For a shot of strong “Spirits” I silently scream,
‘cause I forgot the candy on this Halloween!
Lonely Chrome
Loch David Crane
October 14, 1997
The ride today was flawless,
the sky was turquoise blue,
the wind was warm--the only drag
was riding without you.
With my shirt off on the freeway
I was embraced by the sun,
its warm arms around my shoulders
as I worked on my tan.
When I turned my head you whispered,
I heard you call my name--
But when I turned the other cheek
the sound was not the same.
The wind cried lonely sounds out--
the voice it wasn't true
because the wail of the freeway
didn't sound like you.
I missed your gentle whisper,
your arm around my neck
your blond hair long and streaming
in the mirror out the back.
I thought I saw behind me
the bright flash of your smile
but it was just a reflection
that teased me for a while.
I tried to feel your fingers
(you used to hold my hand)
but now the cold and lonely chrome
is all I understand.
I thought you were beside me
encircled in my arms
I reached but felt the handlebars
and not a woman's charms.
I even had a dream last night
two lovers were entwined
but when my eyes came open
just your memory was mine.
So though the Sun is golden
and empty skies are blue
I feel the chill of winter
'cause I'm riding without you.