Best Trikes Poems
Away up north where it’s snowing they say
the elves are preparing for Christmas day.
Big elves little elves, busier than bees
All building toys, for under Christmas trees.
Some work with hammers others building bikes,
some riding through the room on brand new trikes.
Tiny elf voices ringing loud and clear,
everyone’s full of love and Christmas cheer.
Suddenly the chatter stops; all are still,
Santa walked in the room with book and quill.
Looking down at his book, Santa Clause stared,
then lifted his eyebrows as he declared,
Today I looked inside my books
and I found that we are ahead,
and thought because you worked so hard
we shall all go outside instead.
Misses Claus made lots of sweet treats
so let’s all eat and be hearty,
for today here at the North Pole
all elves shall have a snow party.
Quick as a wink the elves they disappeared,
Santa just smiled as he tugged at his beard.
Laughing he watched his little friends scatter
and soon the mountains echoed with laughter.
Snowballs were flying, snowmen taking form,
and hot chocolate kept little elves warm.
They were sledding, skiing, skating all day,
see, elves aren’t simply, all work and no play.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
11.29.2014
Contest: Children’s Christmas or Holiday Tale
1st place
Categories:
trikes, adventure, celebration, christmas, fantasy,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Patriot Guard funeral Escort
Loch David Crane
August, 2008
Today is sunny: with three dozen bikes,
some decorated cars, a pair of trikes,
two dozen Marines: all of the family
and toddlers to set their Daddy free
into the Great Beyond beyond the sky
where loved ones send their veterans who die.
Below our feet the stones give way to grass
where they are neatly trimmed; and as we pass
the names of strangers stare into the air
and we look back, wondering who lies there.
I won't step on a grave--I'll walk around
so not to insult those within the ground.
We ride at funerals honoring those vets,
brave men and women we have never met.
Categories:
trikes, america, death, funeral, heaven,
Form:
Sonnet
As I set out
To jot down this poem
I had no earthly idea
Of what would transpose
And who all would be
Joining along
I'm as surprised as you
To these goings on
I don't recollect
Any of this being nearby
All the glimmer and glamor
Catching my eye
With my mind letting loose
In the wondering why
All of these characters
Are invading my rhymes
There are seals riding trikes
Uniformed Taiwanese
Clowns and their like
With smiley faced knees
Lepords in tights
Like we need more of these
A Kardashian or two
To put our minds at ease
Daryl Hall and John Oates
Singing loud 80's tunes
And what would be a poem
Without a cow jumping over the moon
Or a chimpanzee
Swinging through the stanzas with ease
Using the tails of snakes
Like a flying trapeze
There's even a racoon
By the name of Rocky we know
Using his Boogaloo
To sweep dust from the poem
And look it's Bob Hope
Selling soap on a rope
To keep it all clean
With a rated "G" tone
With so much going on
Inside of this poem
Guess it's best I stop here
As this has gotten rather long...
Categories:
trikes, fun, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
Santa omitted to visit our town
Christmas Day was so sad ; all the kiddies let down .
Parents were livid and they all could remember
That letters were sent in early November .
No dolls prams or buggies or nice , brand new clothes
Transformers or train sets , skates or GI Joes.
Just what had happened to cause this great blunder.
It wreaked havoc and chaos ; tore families asunder .
No new dvds or Ipods to tune .
No bikes or small trikes to clutter the room .
So what happened Rudolf and his big radar nose
To guide him on roof-tops ; nobody knows .
Seems , he went on the razz , 2 days before " Eve " .
Got a chill in his nose , so we believe ,
And lost all scent of direction ; the great stupid berk .
The excuse , we got was - " his sat-nav don't work " . !!!
Inspired by Carolyn's Christmas home-town contest .
Categories:
trikes, funny
Form:
Rhyme
The Eighties Edge
Life today is nothing but “No” “No.”
“No this”, “No that” wherever you may go.
The sign says, "This campus is smoke free."
Who owns the very sky and air we breathe?
Consider things around back in the Eighties,
big wheel trikes and shoulder padded ladies.
We walked on planes like going to the store.
Now you bare your naked feet on the cold floor.
The media shows the many signs of change.
Doctors smoking at St.Elsewhere's now deranged.
Can we stop and count up all the added rules
that no longer give us options free to choose?
The Eighties bring a twinkle to the eye
as we think on carefree years and softly sigh.
11/25/15
Remembering the 1980's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner |
Categories:
trikes, age, change, community,
Form:
Couplet
When I go hiking with my dog,
(let's get that straight, my husband's dog,)
I find that Simon knows no path.
He wants to roam about in yards
which leaves our neighbors in a flap.
This dog has taught me how to jog,
he likes to chase both squirrel and frog.
I like to stop and catch my breath.
Hiking with Simon? very hard
until his run is under wraps.
He's fairly gentle with young tykes,
his boundless love of kids on trikes
finds random riders on our street.
crossing back and forth, side to side
to his delight. He loves to dance.
He tucks his tail to show dislikes
but says, "Hello!" as leg he hikes
at every mailbox that we meet.
With friendliness oversupplied,
each female dog, he will romance.
Back to his barking which is loud
to say the least when in a crowd.
Behind fences, standing at doors
all dogs compete, sharing their yelp
and when they tire they share their moan.
Jerking his leash is not allowed
he slips his head out, looking proud
racing away, commands ignored.
Efforts to catch will not help;
leave him alone, he'll head on home.
Jan. 13, 2015
AW-064
Sponsor BJ Legros Kelley
Contest Name Beloved Pets
Categories:
trikes, 11th grade, dog,
Form:
Rhyme
There once was a man, a New Yorker
Who was truly a cocky corker
He loved best his wife, and fixing bath pipes
With Bronx accent, a hearty talker
Fifty years he’d labored and toiled
Keeping pipes un-rusted and oiled
When no water drained, the women complained,
“Come fix it! ‘Cause the floor is now soiled!"
With light in hand he crawled under sinks
Slithered and slid among all those chinks
He worked for the money for his honey
No more teasing or joking high-jinks
Water flowed; it’s time to retire
Move South where old people perspire
Riding on 'trikes with high flying flags
With large baskets for folks to admire
He never thought he'd have such sore bones
"Tho he's always been accident prone
Pedaling by his now startled wife
He's riding through three time zones!
Categories:
trikes, age, change, father, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Riders
Rumble and thunder,
here they come,
no one dare, ask...
from where.
The bikes, their trikes...
their toys for adventure,
seen on the horizon,
like a storm.
Freedom in their banners,
their plates made of;
gold, silver... winged,
Indians'
and Victory'
at hand.
Harley and friends,
well-represented,
in all the land.
Real men, and tough chicks,
enjoying the ride...
like cowboys on the range,
like speeding clouds
in the sky.
Hard rock, no rock,
just talk, or real...
the real deal?
(Heroes?) Whispered...
Depends on the banners,
and the men and women
that hold them up,
---high.
Pray, friends,
and remember...
to always love Our Country,
and American Pie.
Ann Foster
BooksbyAFoster.com
Have a truly blessed day!
Categories:
trikes, adventure, america, courage, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
Harsh Mission / San Francisco, CA 2011
Through the harsh white sunlight
the random bits of cast offs tumble and stick
smeared to the pavement and layered upon
upright posts, from pillar to post they roll
on bikes and trikes, on roller blades
and skate boards, down and out,
drunk and oh so sober, they meander
as if on the streets of Paris
in their mock Bistros with their
fake hair, their primal piercings, and their
do me do's just screaming of abuse...
The childlike sibyls and torrid sirens
howl at the fog banked moon
as they stumble on the dole from room
to rented room, or huddle in the bus shelters
waiting to sneak a cheap ride down town.
Bizzaro meets his mate in the masked
denizens of the mission district
breasts starred, caped and on display for all to see
face hidden behind plastic lunacy...
The giggling effervescence of misspent youth
crumbles into a heedless epicurean
mosh pit of aimless wandering
joyous neglect...
It is truly hard to know where the
garbage ends and the art begins.
Categories:
trikes, family
Form:
Free verse
bikes hiku
from trikes to bikes
to speed needs thigh straddled ~
male toy cycle
Categories:
trikes, boy, men, power, travel,
Form:
Haiku
T-he difficulty
S-trikes the mind in its thinking,
C-old tears fall from eyes.
Form: Acrostic Haiku
Categories:
trikes, birthday,
Form:
Haiku
Some big people ride trikes too!
Dangerous, could wind up black and blue
Drivers patience, not much
When we hear a big crunch
Lying on the pavement, needing superglue
Categories:
trikes, confusion,
Form:
Limerick
D-eadly
E-pidemic's
N-otorious
N-astiness
I-nvisibly
S-trikes
N-ations
O-nce
P-andemic
A-tracks
L-ungs
Topic: Birthday of Bro. Dennis Nopal (April 25)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Categories:
trikes, birthday,
Form:
Acrostic
The Buzzards are looking to start a fight
The Flamingos are looking to start a fight
It looks like there will be trouble today
There is a rumble on the way
The Buzzards, their babes, their Harley bikes
The Flamingos their leathers, their motor trikes
Its all they can take
Its all about the turf they call the "Lake"
It looks like there's going to be a fight
There's going to be blood tonight
Both gangs came together
But all they did was ruffle their feathers
For the Flamingos like the Buzzard's leathers
And the Buzzards like the Flamingo's feathers
They forgot all about the fight
It looks like there will be a party tonight
Buzzards and Flamingos Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
1/18/19
Categories:
trikes, anger, image, war,
Form:
Rhyme
I heard their engines before they got to the hill.
Devil monsters with eyes that freeze me in place still.
I had seen them before, hoped to never see them again.
Thumping their chests, they brought scary with them.
Screaming commenced as the people saw the bikes.
Last time they came they had mowed down our trikes.
I had hoped to never see them again said Mayor Fife.
Run! I yelled as loudly as I could. “Run for your Life!”
Categories:
trikes, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Rhyme