On Cottingham Green
Have you got a light he asked
Breathing whisky fumes in my face
The hand rolled ciggie in his mouth
Miraculously staying in it’s place
As he lifted the bottle
Up to his lips
Then returned it to its carrier bag
After one or two sips.
He said he was owed thousands
From a PPI claim
The money was there somewhere
Waiting in his name.
If they got a move on
And didn’t pay it too late
He was going to buy a caravan
And drink whisky by the crate.
We sat there enjoying
The early spring sun
The he mounted his byke
And was off at a run
The bottle in its bag dangling
From the byke handle bars
As he shot across the street
Narrowly missing two cars.
I watched him ride down the road,
Through a red traffic light,
And then he turned the corner
And was gone from my sight.
I’d been feeling desolate after
Visiting the grave of my wife
But after chatting with him
Felt I was coming back to life
On Cottingham Green.
She came along casually riding a watermelon bike.
I was merely walking down the street on an intended hike.
She yelled “Hey, Pete, or Samuel or Ike!”
You see I am a triplet, and this is what it is like.
I am Suzette, she said, introducing herself in a sweet way.
I wondered how she knew our names in just one day.
They had just moved here this morning from down Chester way.
I noticed that her blue eyes had a tinge of silver and gray.
Want to ride on the handle bars? She asked with a sassy smile.
I did for sure, but flatulence kept me walking on that lonely mile.
Maybe some other day, I told her with a wink and a sigh.
She never asked me again, for she was now dating Cy.
Sometimes in the night I dream of taking a ride on that bike.
I would sit on the handle bars as confident as my brother Ike.
I wake up in a cold sweat, wishing she was my intended wife.
But alas, I am just me in the morning, with a boring dull life.
Written 7-13-2022
Contest: A Watermelon Fantasy Ride to Feed My Imagination
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
She showed me her bicycle
With considerable pride
The wheels were red
With specks of black in-between
Handle bars in bottle green
As she sped away, little did
She know the bicycle was carved
From a watermelon ripe and green!
The bicycle wheels swirling
Slicing pieces for a queen
Squish squash sweet juice flying
Painting a watermelon sky
Pink rain cooling the air
She fell to the ground
With watermelon pieces in her hair!
28.6.22
Sponsor Mystic Rose Rose
A Watermelon Fantasy Ride
What a splendid thing to bicycle ride
Envisioning an adventure ahead
A two wheel machine just powered by me
Handle bars play as I gracefully glide
See sunglasses, gloves, and helmet on head
To be
Balance so tenable, a seat so small
Pressing pedal eager heart fills with glee
Cool wind in my face, sun shines overhead
Said joy filled soft words will embrace my all
Care free
Robert Gene Stoner Jr
10/20/2020
Curtal Sonnet
I’m adjusting fixed positions
On opinions and deductions
From now on breathing other airs
I have a stack of fresh instructions
I let go of once held handle bars
Veering off from straight line steering
Riding curves requiring nerves
Whilst watching stances disappearing
Chancers wait to try it on
Consider risk-maintaining stakes
Ask what can we afford to lose
Whilst still expecting lucky breaks
Like riding on the handle bars of a bike
with no brakes, going down Telegraph hill
in San Francisco,... during an earthquake…
...With a flower in your hair…If you like.
Miss Auchterlonie was my teacher
In the sixth grade and I was happy
I loved her figure and features
And she even dressed real snappy!
My love for her would not be denied
I'd impress her with my model cars
It would be cool if she would ride
On my bicycle handle bars!
But mine and more hearts were broken
When the bad news she gave us came
We were crushed by her words spoken,
"Mrs. Spencer is now my name!"
I was pretty cranky when my spanky new bike was janky.
The frame was too short for my body, too tall and lanky.
The tires too fat, too hard to push up boggy maintain trails.
The deal I got clearly a lemon janky, all wrapped in hanky-panky.
The bike looked so nice out of the box, its chrome frame so glint and shiny.
The first sign of trouble was rust on the chain, which made me angry.
Squirts of oil needed on chain and axles, to make pedaling smooth.
Front and rear nuts needed tightening, else wheel retention was dicey.
I set off for ride, bike all fixed up and ship-shaped I hoped,
but the brakes did not work when handle grips I groped,
Disaster averted, just in nick of time, by dragging my feet on ground.
The handle bars were loose, the seat too nippy on bum, but some how I coped.
Back home from first ride, mad as hell, I swore I would return the heap of junk,
I found the guarantee and read the fine print, but my hopes were sunk
when I read that the bike could only be returned to get full refund,if never ridden!
So I’m stuck with my Jekyll janky skunk of a bike, deal a flunk, ego shrunk.
All the Christmases distant past were all so very memorable. Except for one Christmas I truly remember,
especially because it was unforgettable.
My parents and I gathered around the tree Christmas morn.
Many beautiful presents I found,
I was torn, which one to open first.
I looked about the room, there behind the tree
stood a large clumsy wrapped Christmas package.
I asked, “Can I open that one first please?”
Unwrapping the package with quick fingers,
I tore at the string and wrapping.
Then, ecstatic screams of joy with tears and wails
it took my breath away.
There was the Schwinn bike I saw in the store window
that my heart simply craved and yearned.
My parents looked at me with pride and joy and said,
” Merry Christmas!”
My eyes were fixed upon the bike with a smile;
it was the most magical moment of any Christmas.
It was a bright red, with shine chrome fenders,
and tassel hanging down the ends of the handle bars.
For all day long I rode.
12/15/2016
I rode my little bicycle
Down the little street,
I pushed the little pedals
With my little feet,
When my little bicycle
Hit a great big bump,
I flew over the handle-bars
And landed with a thump.
I pushed my little bicycle
Home to see my mum,
She put some little band-aids on
Where I needed some.
Now I'm all patched up
But my little handle-bars are bent,
I'm sure my dad can fix them
After my little accident.
Cohabitating with your floral penance,
I slow grind
With
Memories
All metaphorical bets,
Off
Jumping head first
Another solemn wish
Unto you
To caress my smile
Another didactic breath
For your silky, titanium retinas
To share this potent sway
Against time
I, grip
Rusty handle bars to ride
Upon your caramel sunsets
Sweetened with diabetic urges,
Feening
Feening
Inject me towards unbridled upbringings,
Chrysanthemum sentences
Etched upon your neck
Of Egyptian cotton awakenings
…
I do not want to be your tomorrow,
Because that could never be promised
Yet, all we have is today.
Because all we have is today.
All we have is today…
©Drake J. Eszes
Oh those candies behind the counter
They look so good
Just out of my reach
I imagine
My mouth waters
You say maybe tomorrow
Oh that bike
High handle bars
Banana seat
Just like my friends bike
So very different from my own
My tomorrow never comes
Oh those boots
The smell and feel of the leather
Check out the stitching
Those pointed toes
If only I could wear them tomorrow
Oh all the things I want
All just out of my reach
Left for you to decide
Your desires satisfied
Mine set aside
You say maybe tomorrow
Oh I can hardly wait
One day I will grow up
The world will be my oyster
I will decide
I will have my tomorrow
Oh he is so cute
This gorgeous son of mine
I want the best for him
I can wait for me
I'll give my best today
I can wait till tomorrow
Just need that feeling
That same old feeling
At 10 years old
Riding my yellow
Banana seat bicycle
That sweaty afternoon
I jumped on not sure
Where I'd end up
Just needing that urge
To steer and go
Anywhere I wanted
Grabbing those handle bars
I jerked them left
Then jerked them right
Making sure it was me driving
The streamers hanging
From the rubber hand grips
Blew loud in the wind
The wind I was making
As I pedaled
And so I did pedal
Independence filling my chest
Years have passed
And I lost that feeling
The one my heart needs
To beat out my own path
That giddy stomach feeling
Of me deciding
Where I want to go
When I think of you
When I think of you, I think of the needlessness
of such thoughts too. Because it is as simple as
who but you that’s saved in my mind’s memory bytes.
When I think , I think of the cliff by the ocean
flat and vast at the top and wonder why the shrine
sitting at its foot didn’t choose its crest as its spot.
And I also think of the super duper timer
in the sleeping passenger’s brain that never fail
to wake him when it is time to get off the rail.
And the stupidity of the same brain that makes
him race and jump on to the first bus he sights
that has just started to move and move too fast
leaving him dangling from its handle bars as feet
failed to touch footboard so close but so out of sync…
01/OCT/2012
My first tricycle should have been built for two
My baby sister jumped on the back
Down through the woods we zoomed
Running into a tree, I scraped my knee
Across the handle bars she flew
My beautiful tricycle could not be fixed
The cuts and scrapes were only small knicks
We never rode a tricycle again
But me and my sister
Are forever best friends
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