I like
to bike
on rails
to trails
I roam
from home
long ride
trail wide
warm sun
have fun
near trees
cool breeze
at end
sores tend
good path
need bath
Riding bikes is fun and easy. You feel a breeze when you ride a bike. You can go steady and slow or quick and fast on a bike. Biking is so much fun for everyone.
Ride Your Bike
Ride your bike all over town
We don't care. We don't frown.
Hurt you. Yeah!
Kids rule. No way!
Set those toilets on fire today.
Climb the fence.
Break the rules.
Steal the crown
From the fools.
Don't have ta
If she don't wanna.
Our way. Yeah!
Chaos is our anthem loud
We're the misses
Make mamma proud
Swing from trees
Break the sky.
No regrets.
Til the day we die.
Point and stare
Gen Z! Old lady
Kids outspoken ha ha ha
Scream - push em down.
Laugh and scream
Seize the day.
Push her down
Don't obey
Kids rule. Yeah!
This is our way.
Ride your bike all over town
We don't care. We don't frown.
Hurt you. Yeah!
Kids rule. No way!
Set those toilets on fire today.
Life can so often be unexpectedly amusing
Perhaps not so if you are into self abusing
Today its five am with headlight I'm on my usual daily run
I encounter a well dressed tall man a white shirt adorns his back
he rides a pushbike which is parked in a bicycle rack
I notice what I assume to be a cigarette is held within his hand
He gestures toward me It takes a moment before i understand
Would you like a puiff at first I thought him drunk
I realise its dope. No thank you I'm not into inhaling junk
Have you never ever tried he says . No
Me with long white hair and beard barefoot he says you look like you do
Too many words and syllables now to form a monoku
I also tell him I don't drink alcohol coffee only eat food raw
Whats your age he says Seventy eight
You're looking good quite impressed with what he saw
Now this is not the first time that I have encountered
due to my appearance this assumption you look like you do
Tapped on the shoulder from behind many years ago
Where do we get some hooch in this town we're new
In the dim and distant past, i cycled around
Slow and fast, past sleepy houses, on small city blocks.' In the morning fresh when its not yet hot ' sometimes a daring
Cat shot in front, aloof and sleek, no play for me then on bots..I recall the rich sent of
Fresh cut lawn, before the day would swallow, this placid morn' i recall milk bottles sitting on front door stoops, as pidgeons scattering, as the hawk broke loose, out a of a blue yonder, with whistling
Wings, echoing the sound of my bike wheels, as i turn for home i hear the church
Bell ring.'
I just saw you bike on by
Wondering why
I just felt your ghost
turn me
into nothing
but bones.
The clouds were smiling,
shadowing,
The path is beguiling.
chorus:
Enchanted with the trees' firm,
military posture long-term
upon the leaves of evergreens.
Riding high on spiral spokes
wrapped in a carbon black cloak
with a white and green cradle.
Wind's soothing nature and grace
took an embrace,
As uphill and rhythmic in
continuous spin.
chorus:
Enchanted with the trees' firm,
military posture long-term
upon the leaves of evergreens.
Traveling into the golden hours
following the curves it devours.
Downhill in a roller coaster,
exhilarating joy,
and excitement toy
empowered engagement
in the moment.
chorus:
Enchanted with the trees' firm,
military posture long-term
upon the leaves of evergreens.
The clouds were smiling, shadowing the path.
Riding high on spiral spokes wrapped
in carbon black with a white and green cradle.
Wind's soothing nature took an embrace,
As uphill rhythmic continuous spin.
enchanted with the trees' firm, military posture.
Traveling into the golden hours following the curves
downhill in a roller coaster, exhilarating joy,
and excitement empowered engagement in the moment.
Passing through the fields of Punjab,
sitting behind my father on a bike,
a sensation rose in me
at the call of a Ruston engine
breathing from a mud-bricked room.
Its call sounded as if from another world,
which touched my heart
and settled there forever—
one of the most unforgettable moments
of my life.
When I grew older,
I wandered from village to village
just to hear that iron nightingale
singing in the dawns of rural Punjab.
In my wanderings I discovered
that at night its echo,
deep in the quiet fields,
was like a spotted owlet
resting in the dark.
Now its music grows rare.
But whenever it reaches my ears,
the fields return—
golden crops bending in the wind,
silver canals under the sky,
and a little boy on a moving bike
holding his father
as the villages pass.
Off to work upon his bike
in early morning time
When suddenly confronted
with a loud spine chilling wine
He really was confused
what's the source of this alarm
Nothing sinister he hoped
to likely cause some harm
His heart was beating faster
as he pedalled with such fear
He never travelled faster
with the bike now in top gear
Then one day he saw the culprit
in the fullness of the light
He new at once it was the source
of his enormous fright
Suddenly it hadn't been
a figment of a nasty dream
A bird , the bush Stone Curlew, claims to be
the owner of the caterwauling scream
The bird is now revered
when it's heard throughout the night
Though sleep is sometimes ruptured
The bird is now invited, to screech with all his might
Crying,
you held me tight.
Baby's needs are all met,
I can feel your big loving arms.
Your girl.
Time flies,
growing up fast.
Learning to bike and skate,
homework, dance and driving a car.
My dad.
Town cyclist flying,
by, ray of sunshine mood lift,
whose beam can “bridge” that distance,
on grey monday morn,
isn’t it breathtaking then,
such heart in “civic” passage
I rode my first rice burner bike
beyond the wild blue yonder
going solo the only way to go
on a red 50cc Honda
as being part of a bike brotherhood
was never in my repertoire
and moving on in Hawaii
my next was a 650 Yamaha
my last tho' fairly fast
in fact still quite nifty
on the hills of San Francisco
was a black Suzuki 550
if a motorcycle means personal freedom
of the road stretching out ahead
why do so many feel the need
to ride in packs instead?
When I kissed your lips this morning,
It tasted bitter and sour like a chicory,
How did sweetness flee its borders
Or has bitter seed been sown into its belly?
When I whispered love into your ear,
I found it deaf for God knows how long,
Its music no longer sways a single leg,
And its spark on your face brought no fire.
When I cuddled you close to my heart,
Your heartbeats were regularly irregular,
The coldness of your warmth froze like rime,
And the blood it pumps is laced with bile.
So love can flow like a river tumbling downhill,
That has a forward but no backward flow?
So love can be whispered with a muffled echo
That's spoken into the air and filled with silence?
We drive on the left
park in the driveway
and walk on the pavement
over here in the good old U.K.
They drive on the right
and on the parkway
also the pavement
over there in the U.S. of A.
It could be confusing to motorist
and pedestrian alike,
so where should we go
when riding a bike?
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