Fifteen years old, warm summer night,
I left home about twilight,
Jumped on my ten-speed wheels
And started in to wheeling,
Following a feeling -
A mystery, a night reveals.
What would the night reveal?
Conscientious, never free,
The only thing I’d ever wanted to be
Was someone who complies,
But this was just a lark,
Riding in the dark.
Which way would we fly?
I watched with open eye.
I had no purpose. It was just a ride.
Left or right, I let my bike decide.
Where I was going, I didn’t care.
I was on my own.
Something to me would be shown.
My destiny was there.
I could feel in the air.
Fifteen years old, warm summer night,
I left home about twilight
In the summer of seventy-three.
When I left, I was a captive child.
Hours later, pulling home, I smiled.
The night I would be free,
I discovered me.
The day started off wonderful !
Funny... they didn't forecast torrential rain today ~
Not greatest day for biking !
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
1. I ride my bicycle
On the open road
I ride my bicycle
To my sweet abode
CHORUS:
Oh bicycle, my bicycle!
How I love thee!
Oh bicycle, dear bicycle
You set me free!
2. I love my bicycle
I love it so much
I love my bicycle
Moves under my touch
CHORUS:
Oh bicycle, my bicycle!
How I love thee!
Oh bicycle, dear bicycle
You set me free!
3. On my dear bicycle
I soar to new heights
On my dear bicycle
I've seen many sights
CHORUS:
Oh bicycle, my bicycle!
How I love thee!
Oh bicycle, dear bicycle
You set me free!
BRIDGE:
This bicycle changed my life
Has been with me through all strife
I'll hold it close forever
We'll always be together
CHORUS:
Oh bicycle, my bicycle!
How I love thee!
Oh bicycle, dear bicycle
You set me free!
Dear bicycle...
You set me free...
I love my bicycle
Which is blue, it screams
I love you
With my basket
Hanging low
It's faster than
You can blow
With reflectors
On my mags
Even my stickers
Has its own tags
My handlebar
Tassels hang low
They fly as my
Bicycle goes
I believe life too runs on wheels
People gallop and gear it up with deals
Let me frame a lofty goal
To win, I must keep the pedals roll
It could either be a pleasure or pain
I must handle it with a unique vein
Forget not applying brakes
Or else, away the passion takes
No wrong if we try to soothe and coax
Be supportive like a wheel’s spokes
Bear not bloody restrictions
Bearings reduce frictions
To lube the cognitive chain
Add fun for making a smooth lane
Bicycle reflects the cycle of a life
Seat it and set it with no strife
Place : 3 rd
a race in life, a race in town
on our bicycles down the slope,
little daughter, colourful gown,
two pink sparkling cheeks, full of hope!
knew the game for me was to lose,
to make her feel the champ she wished,
had to do all to hide that ruse,
lest she feel her efforts diminished.
the whistle went sharp and clear,
blown by none other than wife,
off we went speeding without fear,
bumpity bump, laughing, happy life.
the gentle slope conveyed her on,
while I struggled to grapple with the road,
her happy giggles that Sunday morn,
held key to my own happiness code.
She reached the line well before me,
stood victorious leaning on her bike,
shook her hand down on my knee,
setting her up to win life’s race alike.
Happy we will be, bike and me
Free as the birdies in a tree.
I love to ride along a country lane
Gathering speed, there I'm going again
To somewhere there is peace, and all is right
In the pouring rain or the sunshine bright.
I go whizzing along at fastest pace
Where there is nothing in my path to face
Except the whispers of leaves upon trees
The sweetest refrains sung upon the breeze.
I listen to the charming tweets of birds
The nicest of sounds one has ever heard
The crackle and snap of a fallen twig
When my bike happens to slide over it.
I stop a while to take a deserved rest
Admiring nature as its very best
The beautiful wild flowers, grass of green
In loveliest scenes ever to be seen.
I vouch my bicycle is my best pal
Together we will be, a bike and gal
We depend on each other constantly
A partnership as no other could be.
Happy we will be, bike and me
Free as the birdies in a tree.
In the concrete jungle
I go riding my bike
My tummy rumbles
There’s no food tonight
I’m not ruby rich
Street my playground
Now I’m just a kid
Middle class lost and found
I see Ms Peaches
A well known store thief
In her bag she reaches
A sandwich for me to eat
In return I pay her
With my lemon loyalty
I can be the little bird
Black yelling popo you see
I ride despite the dangers
On my thrift store 10 speed
In my mind I’m a red ranger
Like I saw on classic tv
I fantasize as I ride
One day the moon I’ll see
Handlebars to stars I glide
On my bike I am free
(Can be sung to the music “Trees,”
Lyrics, Joyce Kilmer)
I thought that I would never see
a bicycle to ride with three!
Back in the forties, I was pressed
to get on board and meet the test.
With mom and dad, one sunny day,
we took a ride on it for play!
The three of us in summerwear
and a warm breeze blowing our hair!
Six legs, as one, spun round and round,
as rubber tires whirled on the ground.
Oh, what a fun and happy time!
Our bicycle for three- sublime!
A rhythmic thrum against the fork,
A jack of hearts, a queen of spades,
We snapped them stiff with wooden cork
Or clothespins clipped in cooling shades.
The asphalt hummed a frantic tune,
A motor made of paper thin,
Beneath the white and bloated moon,
The click-clack-clatter would begin.
We were the kings of gravel drive,
With thunder trapped between the steel,
The cards alive, the spokes a-drive,
A roar for every spinning wheel.
It wasn't speed that made us bold,
But that percussive, plastic beat—
A deck of stories, frayed and old,
That turned our bikes to winged fleet.
And though the cards would soon bend,
Their glossy faces scarred and worn,
Riding into darkness, a bitter end.
When the deck ran out, we'd mourn.
Summer Days
I watch my wheels go round and round,
as we ride our bikes all over town.
We hit the track to race our friends,
over the hills and through the bends.
The finish line is drawing near,
I didn't get first, but I'm still here.
We pedal to the ice cream store,
and then set off to go explore.
The street lights hum, they're all ablaze,
as we close out our summer days.
Now days they say we were free range,
we children of the seventies,
but really we were simply free
to wheelie and to ride.
We were groovy,
as groovy as our bikes ~
banana seats and decks of cards
made sure of that!
We rode and roamed until street lights came on
and all mama did when we got home was say
I see you’re still in one piece,
and that was that!
Bikes gave way to fast cars
and fast parties out in the woods,
with a little weed and lots of booze
because one of us had an older brother.
I finally had to go work for a living,
the fast car traded for a family sedan~
gave up smoking, gave up booze
and bought the house with a picket fence
The only thing I truly miss
is that groovy bike with banana seat
and playing cards clipped to the spokes
making noise going ‘round and around.
Rust and chrome, a hand-me-down bike,
granddad’s grease still singing in the spokes,
each turn a prayer he hammered back to life~
the bent frame straightened under stubborn love,
the chain baptized in oil and patience.
Ten years old, I straddled time itself:
the saddle, cracked like his laughter,
the pedals, spinning secondhand stars
beneath my untested feet.
He said, Every wobble teaches balance,
and the road rushed up to meet me,
not as a stranger, but as a conspirator~
wind in my face, the world unspooling
behind me like a liberated kite.
Even now, the ghosts of those handlebars
twitch in my palms—how they trembled
before they learned to trust the fall,
before the wheels, like memory,
stopped fighting the curve.
O first flight, O rattling heirloom,
you were never just a bike~
you were my resurrection.
related memoir vignette can be read at
poetrysoup.com/short_stories/a_girl_a_bike_a_librarian_and_a_magical_spell_13645
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rusted bicycle leans
against the crumbling fence~
sunflowers grow through its spokes
I went on a bike ride, I was hyper-alert
I had just emerged from the mental ward
I thought I was despised, felt wounded and hurt
But I lied to the doctor to get out the door
For the first miles I felt the wind in my hair
Then a car drove by, I heard a loud jeer
It was just a dog with his nose in the air
I had mistaken my species, all was clear.
Two miles on, an ambush from the side
A loud sneer, I felt sudden stress
On closer look, a Downs Syndrome guy
I let out my breath, stress got less.
Got into Kingston, car passed, a shout
"Go Home" it said, and then passed by
Was this true, should I block it out?
Why riff off a chord, if the chord don't apply?
Ten miles later, a hand reached out of a car
Tried to push me off the road
They failed, but threw my mind's door ajar
Stress climbed, I felt I would explode.
I crested a hill, a view opened wide
Then I started to think, was it all the same?
Why get anxious, on this scenic ride?
My illusions and theirs - it' was all a game.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.