Best Wheelies Poems
2/4/19
"Nothing Else To Add"
Thinking clearly
I wrote this sincerely
From the one you regard dearly
Nearly
Everybody having theories
Times getting eerie
Yearly
It didn't always turn out ideally
She really
Wanted to get touchy and feely
Telling me how she could heal me
After I did some wheelies
Next she said feel free
To take her up on the deal and see
Soon she'd reveal the key
For both parties it was beneficial
And rather simple
Not no piffle
Yeah I said it
There's no need to edit
It's becoming pathetic
Far too many
Being petty
Filled with envy
Get ahead or fall behind
On the move, or soon to unwind
Saw it coming, or being blind
Struggling, or doing fine
Missing or seeing the sign
Not thinking or using your mind
Being rude or kind
Can't be sad
Had
To get after what I didn't have
No matter if I was doing bad
Sure , life can be sad
But I'm not staying mad
I got to give it a stab
If it's something I want to grab
Still glad
I don't care about any fad
There's nothing else to add
"Highlights of New Jersey"
New Jersey is quaintly known as the Garden State for fun
with sandy beaches kissed by ocean waves beneath golden Sun
amusement parks and midway piers stream wooden boardwalk
arcades offer magic machines with flashing lights that talk.
boat rides on blue Atlantic coast and fishing by the bay
surfing upon white capped waves as marble tourneys play
shopping at the mini malls, stopping for frosty treat
funnel cake or snow cones to alleviate the heat.
racing monster wheels doing 'wheelies' in beige sand
as lovers stroll the promanade in love while hand in hand
bed and breakfast hideaways to feed the appetite
miniature golf on hotel rooftops close to the Moon at night.
Memories in Margate with The Geeter With the Heater*
Convention Center marathons for dancers digging beaters
casino trips for tourists and residents alike
a visit to the Cape May Zoo or riding cool mountain bike.
roadside stands selling vegetables and fruits
plants and flowers beautiful from full grown or from roots
the scenic drive through highways or back roads share greenview
still munching on hot Curly's fries in circled crunchy chew.
a seashore paradise and a Summertime resort
with Christie at the helm with a positive report
museums of great art and historical conquests
a friendly atmosphere New Jersey loves to welcome guests.
sports reign supreme, with many choices of teams to cheer
fans follow scores from near and far in sports clubs drinking beer
good education for all children schools excellently rated
and seniors are protected in communities so gated.
a native of the Garden State am proud to boast and say
once you visit all the magic places to take your breath away
even Hurricane Sandy could not dissuade the residents
everyone joined in unison to assist with dire events.
New Jersey towns will build again in love with this great State
positive outlooks count so much .. even erases hate
and when we lay our heads down at night to pray
we thank God for His blessings in a very special way.
*The Geeter With the Heater - Jerry Blavat, D.J. at Memories in Margate Club.
*For Richard Tarr's New Jersey Contest.
I went past them tonight. There was like ten
Or maybe twelve. Few girls, but mostly boys
It's dark outside, but mild enough for men
To go out without coats on. It annoys
Some people just to see them there. They had
Some music playing - wasn't very loud
It didn't look like they were being bad
Just sat together in a little crowd
As kids have always done and we did too
(It's more fun in the summer when the nights
Are lighter and there seems like more to do)
Not breaking things or getting into fights
Just doing epic wheelies up and down
The road by Poundland in Devizes Town
© Gail Foster 16th January 2022
are you a robot? does your mouth flap
open and closed, but
you are somewhere completely different
guts
i feel a stir when Im present
vodka flavored kindred
harsh like my wake up
injured ego still mint
i profess prone particularly
to the idea of kinship
yet
i must break away from the school,
regrets are for simple fools
I didnt want to think this way
i found the least resistance
peace this instant, increased
from a raw existance
this is not a diet
food for thought
something to chew on
cue my crotch
the dirty deed of driving to find like minds
poppin wheelies
scaring all the adults
sensing the lost accepting
the great know where
drinkin juice with pulp
Doing Wheelies!
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
Memaw’s doing wheelies,
She must have flipped her lid.
She should be knitting blankets.
Or babysitting kids-
She had the “hee-b-jee-bies.”
At least that’s what she said.
Just before she hit the gas.
And started to skid.
Go get the camcorder.
One-hundred-thousand wins!
Now, that’s a lot of dollars.
Soon, taping did begin.
Hiding in the bushes,
When Memaw passed that way.
While doing many wheelies,
They videoed her play.
Then all of a sudden,
She rode toward the bush.
One last wheelie- Yeehawww!
Then, she landed on her tush!
Tonight a fresh spring breeze flows into my window.
Listening to all the sounds in this city.
There are so many.
Cars with engines roaring, racing up and down this city street.
Ambulance sirens with fire trucks screeching and;
hollering are always passing by.
While helicopters with their loud propellers shine their light,
bright onto the city streets.
With the helicopters flying high in the sky.
On this city spring night a fresh spring breeze;
flows into my window.
I can hear the children are out playing;
having so much fun running up and down the
street. I hear them laughing.
They will sleep well;
thanks to the spring breeze tonight.
Motorcycles, trucks, and more cars I hear them all.
Roaring and raging engines racing up and down.
Really fast they are going. The city bus will run all
night.
On this city spring night the breeze sure does feel
good tonight.
There goes a police siren screeching and hollering.
Mo-pads doing wheelies racing up and down the
city street tonight.
I'll have to close my windows tonight.
Missing out on this beautiful,
spring breeze flowing tonight.
No peace to be found for poetry
writing tonight.
Hopeful I remain enjoying
the spring breeze.
I wonder will sleep find me.
Est 1938
Purchasing candy cigarettes from you
Mischief in your tiny parking lot
Doing wheelies around you on my General Lee BMX bike
Renting ancient overpriced films
Buying superman ice cream
even if it tastes like chalk
Journeying to you in a battered golf cart
Friends strapped to the rear
snickers ice cream whispering our names
A piece of me died when you did
Your fate was not righteous
You were vibrant in your prime
turned to ashes and barren 2-by-4s
soot engulfing blown-out windows
like mascara after a tragedy
Don’t weep dear corner store
I know its unbearable knowing
your life ended hastily
to an abandoned vanilla bean candle
stalled
she pushed the throttle, her engine roared
yet she stood still
her mind raced like a couple of teenagers- late at night, pushing pedal to the medal
on a lone stretch of beach kicking up dirt, indigo steam pumping out of the exhaust pipes
bright’ s on shinning the dark empty roads
1,2, 3, flag is down and she is off- whoosh there she her goes....
0-80 in one split second
wheelies popping, 2 wheels off the ground taking curves in a dangerous manner.
out of control
yet her body couldn’t move
brain zaps, sparks ignited, you could smell the fire
smoked apple wood
pleasing for a moment then rancid to her senses
not translating to make her will move
clutch screeched- tires blown out with a thump, flat like a teenagers chest, she knew she was screwed and couldn’t do a damn thing about it
she sits as the engine catches on fire
see’s the flames but can’t move
her brain begins to hurt as she’s clutching the steering wheel. fingers gripping so tight you have to peel her fingers off for her to settle down
breath comes in short spurts, body still
she has no skills but to talk and charm
she has to guide herself, sometimes she can not catch her breath
she still cooks and sometimes cleans but always makes sure her daughter is cared for
if only the car would move when the throttle is pushed to its max
it just stalls
it’s battered and taped together so her insides don’t fall out
yet the fire in her mind burns, can’t extinguish her thoughts
and she is stuck once again
My mister is so small still,
Cries for me when he falls off his bike.
Training wheels still in place,
He races down the sidewalk.
Mario Andretti on two wheels.
And I race toward his tears, his little bleeding knees
From where I stood feet away on the grass.
And I want for him to slow down.
But now the training wheels have been removed
By his father when I was gone for an hour
For milk and cumin for soup.
And now he is popping the front tire
And jumping curbs
Because he is truly amazing.
And I do a great deal of breath holding,
Atheist prayers to a nonexistent God
From where I sit on the front stairs.
And I want for him to simply slow down
As he races through the street,
Wheelies, look-ma-no-hands, side saddles.
And I have images of him crashing onto the side walk
Cracking his head open, bleeding the pavement red
Which he doesn’t do but which could very well happen
And I remind him of this risk
With shouts out the screen door.
I want for him to wear the helmet
Which I provided for him and strapped under his chin
While he grimaced and pushed me away.
Hanging now by a nail in the garage
A relic of some time long forgotten
When I still hoped I could protect him.
And he just races away
And I stand looking out at him through the window
With no choice but to watch him go.
ANGRY MAN
I have no problem with drunks, druggies, husbands who beat their wives,
Asinine youths shouting too loudly, parents who neglect or spoil their children.
These guys make me feel good because I know it is not me,
And I feel superior : I am better than that.
I hate the guys in wheelchairs who slow me down as I walk to work;
Old ladies on crosswalks bug me, stumbling ahead of me, so I must sidestep;
Beggars on the bridge are infuriating, panhandling for small change.
The wheelies remind me that I have legs
But I waste my time sitting in armchairs watching football;
The oldies tell me that I too will be a stumbler one day
And that I am wasting my youthful energy doing pointless activities.
Beggars I really hate, for it could surely be me, easily - but for the grace of God.
I am spending my cash on trinkets, burgers, movies, and I can’t even enjoy them
Because of thinking of these guys : they make me mad as hell.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entered in Susan Burch’s Contest “Show Me the Anger”
Going on emotion, a boxer
reels to fight his final round.
Punch-drunk and bloody, his heart
as big as Texas, he struggles
on to land that lucky strike
A mother counting pennies, trying
to stretch her budget for another
cotton blanket for her tiny baby boy,
he's just eight months, the little tyke!
A street musician with his violin
trying to pay his way through college
plays the subways and the coffee shops;
his hopes are high till a policeman
tells the kid to 'take a hike!'
A paraplegic in his wheelchair
doing wheelies in the hallways of
the County General Hospital and
flirting with the nurses, in many ways
they're all alike.
They're going on emotion, and 'no'
is not a part of their vocabulary.
Going on emotion, a boxer
reels and fights his final round.
Punch-drunk and bloody, his heart
as big as Texas, he struggles
on to land that lucky strike
A mother counting pennies
tries to stretch her budget for another
cotton blanket for her tiny baby boy,
he's just three months, the little tyke.
A street musician with his violin
tries to pay his way through college,
plays the subways and the coffee shops,
his hopes are high 'til a Copper
tells the kid to take a hike.
A paraplegic in his wheelchair
doing wheelies in the hallways of
the County General Hospital and
flirting with the nurses,
in many ways they're all alike.
They're going on emotion, and 'no'
is not a part of their vocabulary.
2 November 2019 7:32 AM
Swallowing snot and hawking luggies
Weekend sleepovers and late night movies
Riding bikes and popping wheelies
Telling jokes and acting silly
Throwing knives and taking dares
Living life without a care
Just two boys wild and clever
Running the mountain having the best day ever
Who knew their lives would change so fast
In the valley that day childhood would pass
We both changed that day and our lives grew apart
All because of something that we did not start
We were still friends because we cared
but the brotherhood we had we no longer shared
We had our travels some together but most apart
And now many years later and miles away I still live those days in my heart
The good times and bad, the fights and laughter
The years of life roll faster and faster
Our freindship lives on though tattered and torn
Since the fifth grade when it was born
You were my first best friend my only best friend
And you always will be until the end
Amelia Earhart
David J Walker
Betcha didn’t know
A previously undiscovered crater
on the moon
Was named for Amelia Earhart.
And if I go real soon
I’ll take part
In the tourist excursion
And swoon at the
Armstrong flag and
Ace the Alan Shepard Mini-Golf course
And drive the Scott and Irwin
Moon-buggy ride
Popping wheelies in the Moon-dust
After that
There’s not much to do
Except wait and gaze at the Earth
And ponder the fate
Of Amelia Earhart
Betcha didn’t know
They think they found her
Anti-Freckle cream
On some remote island
I wonder if there is an excursion
Sugar stealers.
sugar stealers in the sky are floating forgotten dreams;
chasing girls with squiggly worms and giggling like sun beams.
catching frogs with muddy socks and eating tangerines;
climbing trees and jumping streams as easy as it seems.
getting 10pence off your mum and buying 5 penny black jacks with 5 strawberry strings;
playing wheelies on our bikes or shooting arrows with green garden sticks and flying them as high as the pyrenees.
well after that it was half past seven and our mums had made our teas.