Love Bicycle Poems | Examples
These Love Bicycle poems are examples of Bicycle poems about Love. These are the best examples of Bicycle Love poems written by international poets.
something cheery and light...
JUST ME AND YOU
two wheels spinning, hearts beating as one,
a bicycle built for two*, just me and you.
our laughter echoing, the world a blur
the wind in our hair, the sun on our face
through winding roads and sun-kissed skies
together we pedaled forward, side by side.
we chased the wind, with adventurous hearts
sharing love, laughter, and tears as the miles grew.
we rode through rain and shine, through night and day,
through heartache and pain, through every up and down, we rode as one.
with every turn, memories were made
of trials we faced, of triumphs we won.
the memories we made are like a treasure chest
of moments lived, of lessons learned, of wisdom begun.
the world has slowed as we ride side by side
yet we pedal forward with the wind at our backs.
hand in hand, a sense of peace abides
the rhythm of the pedals and our hearts still beat as one.
* Bicycle Built for Two is a popular song, written in 1892 by British songwriter Harry Dacre
©2025 Sara Etgen-Baker
I was listening to some songs of love
On my way home from work
It was dark
And cold
I just had my little phone flashlight
No coat
And about two miles of hills ahead of me
And it turns out
When you ride your bike
In the cold
With songs of love
And at night
They turn into songs of tragedy
With about two miles ahead of you
But then I looked up at the sky
And I saw the stars
And I remembered
That it was okay, actually
And that I had chosen this
So unless you can look up and see the stars
Don't go riding at night
In the cold
Listening to songs of love
With about two miles ahead of you
My bike is powered by a need
To get to work, to earn a crust
To avoid a tedium of traffic jams
To get through this cold rain alive
To weave between the brutal cars
To end the journey and arrive
My bike is powered by a need
To re-live golden days we had
To be back with the ones I love
To save the planet from some pain
To heal my health and love the stars
To see and kiss your face again
The perky saleslady looked at my aging bicycle
and asked if I would consider a newer model
something lighter
something sexier.
I told her, "My bike and I have a delicious history -
our past and future have merged into a single trajectory,
we're in this together for the long ride.
"I don't think of her as old, she is 'vintage'
we've been through many miles together -
seen breathtaking vistas.
"She knows what direction I want to go even before I do.
We have scars from the journey but each scar has a story
and every story brings a smile.
"Yes, we're slowing down and every ride feels uphill,
but for better or worse, she's never given up on me -
I owe her the same courtesy."
The saleslady chuckled nervously and said,
"Do you know you sound like you're talking about your wife?"
I got on my bike and said,
"I do".
Written 1 Nov 2020
The great outdoors affords the chance
to stretch my limbs, let down my guard,
put up a hammock in the yard.
In summertime to leave the manse
feels good with grass under bare toes.
Inhale the jasmine and the rose,
and savor sights of happenstance:
to spot a squirrel, croaking toad,
or doe and fawn crossing the road.
On mountaintops I do a dance
of triumph after a hard hike
and bask in breezes on my bike,
then waltz my bride in summer's trance
as strains of 'Blue Danube' tiptoe
through memories of long ago.
The great outdoors affords the chance
in summertime, to leave the manse
and savor sights of happenstance.
On mountaintops I do a dance
then waltz my bride in summer's trance.
Constanza
Created by Soup's own Connie Marcum Wong, a Constanza consists of 3-line stanzas of 8-syllable lines, where the first lines of each stanza are monorhymed and combined to form the final stanza. The remaining lines of each stanza are rhymed couplets.
Our bones were once strong,
Our blow was once a punch,
Our teeth's were once healthy
to munch,
Our skin didn't wrinkle in a twinkle
We didn't become old, we grew old.
We were once young,
We were once
"The beautiful and the handsome"
But for this century I don't know
what love has become.
You'll give your all and get
nothing in return.
I met your father back in 1960
during the month of November,
That moment is one to forever
remember
He was charming, wearing a
smile with his cowboy's hat.
That time he couldn't afford a bike
But then 'True Love' was worth
more than fancy cars.
He steps closer and said;
You're the most beautiful woman
I've ever seen,
Those words took my heart
to places its never been.
We were once young,
Truth be told, true love never
get old.
Olajire Damilola Muyideen
(SmilingPen)
© Copyright owner
IG - smiling_pen
At the end of courtyard
A rusted pink bicycle
Lies lonely wearing patina of memories
I can't bear separation from
My adolescent mate
Once decorated with red butterflies
Is slowly losing the shimmers
Webbed carrier for all my teenage precious possessions
Holding all dandelions and golden rain tree blooms
Ah!that ringing bell
That I adored so very much
Riding with flair through pebbled boulevard
Up,down,up racing with wind
Through the hilly tracks
I rang and rang
Even when none were in sight
On silent summer afternoons
Today I tried to press the bell
The faint voice died in flick of time
It brought back flood of memories
To my arid heart's shores
Still is music to my ears
My bicycle's ding-ding
14/02/2019
"My grandfather's bicycle"
I still have the memories of my grandfather's old bicycle that was a always packed behind the house,it was blue in colour and always sparkling because he always spends three hours to wash it thoroughly. The tyres were so black and big that I love playing with them. It has a bell that when rang every one in the community hears of it. The basket in front of it was where he usually put me if I cry to join him..The breaks were very fast and always serviced..he always say to my dad "the breaks are your only hope in case of unforeseen accidents".Not forgetting the seat which was made of a thick and soft cushion covered with a genuine black leather,my grandfather never jokes with his bicycle. Sometimes I get jealous because its like he loves and pays so much attention to his bicycle than to me..haha I guess I was very young to think so. I remember the bicycle been given to an uncle when my grandfather died,since then I have never set eyes on it. Any way it just came to mind..
Isaac Asante
Nov. 2017
I still feel the breeze by the river I used to amble by
With you I roamed the town down the ways,
I still smell the aroma when you used to paddle by
With you I lived my most memorable bicycle days.
I still hear the bell tinkling behind me
With you I had clustered all my priorities,
I still count the number of spokes those are rust
With you I learnt to live with modesties.
I still remember the alleys where we made secret love
With you I even rode to the faraway clouds,
I still see the midnight moon and hear the dogs barking
Withal I surprised you with a fresh rose before the dawn wakens.
I still admire the time when we went on with little fistfights
With you I even smiled most to the joyous abandon,
I still wonder what went wrong and the town still speak our story
With you I had a dream to live and I miss my bicycle maiden.