Long Pedaled Poems
Long Pedaled Poems. Below are the most popular long Pedaled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pedaled poems by poem length and keyword.
Mr. Robin arrived on Spring's early Tide
Of mid-March born to a chill wind born
From his wing dropped a feather
Foretelling milder weather
Yet those slants of ice in the air
Hunger pangs, mealtime's prayers
'Twere no whistles of mirth
'Twere no worms in the Earth
No gentle rains to nurture the ground to give birth
To shoots of bright blossoms or soft-pedaled roses
Nor even a hint of green-tinged garden-hoses
All still lay bare, brown, hard as a rock
"The Earth be not ready!"
Quoth her biological clock--
When through the heart of Mr. Robin
Hurtled Winter's last gasp
A glistening icicle
In the shape of an asp
I jumped on my bike as fast as i could
but not fast enough, it did me no good
The bully kid was big and mean and acted very tough
laughing all the while he quickly knocked me on my duff
Rubbing grass in my mouth, slapping me in the face
him laughing at me, me feeling so disgraced
He punched me so hard then left me crying on the ground
I slowly stood up, was there no one else around?
I gathered up my books and jumped on my bike
and pedaled straight home mustering all of my might
"What happened to you, son?" Mom was the first to see
I cried as I replied "i got beat by a bully!"
"I'm so sorry for you son, I'm so sad that you were harmed"
just then my dad walked in and immediately looked alarmed
Dad quickly asked me "Son, did you give him back the same?"
I sheepishly said "no" re-experiencing the shame.
Dad just stared awhile then said "I don't like what you're becoming.
Next time you better fight, give the bully what he's got coming!
First you punch him in the stomach then you hit him in the face
He won't hurt you any more, when you put him in his place!"
i slowly nodded as he left, Mom quickly gave my cheek a kiss
"I'm so proud of you son for not fighting with your fists
The Lord's servant doesn’t fight but should be gentle instead"
"Yes ma'am" i quickly said as conflicting counsel twirled round my head
The next 5 years when tensions flared i was a gentle talker
but as a bully approached my sophomore year i threw him against his locker!
Thank you Mom and Dad!
***
October 26, 2019
F T I series 9 childhood
Brian Strand, sponsor
Among the many things that sit
Forgotten in our shed,
My son’s old bicycle called out,
Just messing with my head.
I finally decided that
The time had come to see
If it could be restored enough
To get some use from me.
I dusted off the cobwebs,
Scrubbed the frame but after that,
I noticed that the tires were
Unfortunately flat.
We tossed the bike into the car
And drove to get some air.
Back home, I hopped on for a ride
Not thinking, do I dare?
With just one gear I pedaled on;
It made a clunky noise
And even though I fell (just once!)
It brought back childhood joys.
I doubt I’ll ride it very much
But when I can, I will,
As long as I don’t leave my street
And have to face a hill!
She loved our First Nation Cafe
from the primal blessed moment
just before she first could not yet think
of this cooperatively-owned communal place.
As other than some sacred space
She has liturgically revisited
and faithfully communed each starlight night
within secular developing
Right hand prominent wombs.
It felt right and left good
that everyone she saw blending local grown organic juices
fueled by fresh air-turbine bikes
pedaled by consumers
drinking juice from outside
community cooperative garden beds
fertile through compost from FairShare coffee grounds
brewed right there
All cooperatively honeyed
pollinated
owned and self-managed
by those who blend nurturing waters
fueling healthy blood
heart and mind and embodied
by those who heart pump the bikes
and therapeutically mind step the hydro-milling anthemed steppers
and build green capturing solar panels outside
and sing
and dance
and improvise farming and gardening and incubation networks
tell bold new creation love stories
share organically resilient skill sets
cook and preserve local nutrition harvests
design and play WinWin on-line and off-line
deep learning green-STEM Games.
This First Nation Cafe re-creation place
feels like cooperative organic network space
for liberally loving ecoconsumers
and ego-conserving health producers
to ecoschool
and ecovillage
eco/theo-logical after school
and on through each vespered late night regeneration
candle lit inside
star lit campfire outside
nights of lovely ultra-violent FullMoon
through NewMoon full-shadowed integrity
of water-bears
and their synergetic spear-carriers.
He lived this First Nation Cafe
from primal blessed first cooperative moment
just before she first could not yet charge intuition
for this cooperatively-owned communal place
of mutual Wonder.
Long ago duriong my childhood Hon'ble M.L.A.s attended state assembly riding bicycles.
Officers of the govt departmens and staffs attended their offices
riding bicycles.
Policemen in groups went riding bicycles to arrest roadside gamblers.
If caught they were taken to police station on bicycles.
At school our Headmaster, teachers and staff came on bicycles,
some on foot.
As for the students most parents did not allow them to wear long pants nor use bicycles till they clear H.S.L.C. exam.
So they went to schools on foot most of them for miles.
At the college principal, lecturers, staff and studens came riding bicycles.
There were long bicycle sheds in the campus.
But today a few people use bicycles
and on the roads and market places bicycle users are looked down
as poor and starving people
But I dont shed my old habit of riding bicycle
often bumming miles in the countryside.
During the coronavirus lockdown time and again I came out
of the confinement at my home initially with timidity
pedaling my bicycle wearing a protective mask.
Although on the road police stopped the four wheelers, auto rickshaws
and power driven bikes, detained the drivers
or made them turn back non of them stopped me
as they thought bicycle users harmless.
So during lockdown often I pedaled my bicycle to the foot of lonesome
Nongmaijing hill
enjoying the scenary and gentle breeze there,
looking at the egrets flying in the sky and landing on the barren rice fields,
taking snaps of the countryside with my smartphone.
I returned home everytime regaled
without any fear of getting infection with coronavirus
nor police stopping me on the way.
Life was hard when growing up cus I was poor.
Farm work always needed doing, chore after chore,
wearin' hand-me-downs, never gettin' new toys.
No time for playin' with friends, like other boys.
They made fun of me for pickin' melons and corn,
but it was the world into which I had been born.
It wasn't easy gettin' by, those days in the South,
especially when they called me, 'Melon Mouth.'
There was a road that passed by our farmland
where I sold our crops in a little wooden stand.
Folks pedaled on shiny bikes and passed me by
until one day a girl fell off hers and began to cry.
I picked her up and made sure she was alright.
She said, "I'm okay, but that gave me a fright!"
She'd hit a rock and her bike landed on a stump,
causing a tire to go flat, but I had an air pump.
She asked why she'd never seen me ridin' around,
so, I told her I didn't have a bike to get into town.
She frowned and thanked me, then on she rode,
I kicked at the dirt and felt as gawky as a toad.
A week or so later, I saw her riding a new bike.
It looked sleek and fast; the kind that I would like.
She nodded and smiled, so I smiled right back.
Yeah, that red bike had it all. Nothin' did it lack.
Mom said I'd had a visitor when workin' in the field.
Somethin' left for me beneath a tarp, concealed.
Quickly, I lifted the cover, gasped then exhaled
when I saw the girl's old bike. All words failed!
I found out that she had become my new neighbor.
Together, we fixed up the bike. It took lots of labor.
I fell in love with that girl, whose name was Helen,
when she said she could eat a whole watermelon.
She helped me paint the frame, melon rind green.
It was the coolest lookin' bike that I'd ever seen!
Cardboard melon slices with seeds behind the spokes
made the city boys keep teasin' me with lame jokes.
But I didn't care what cruel names they called me
because they suffered from green-eyed jealousy.
I had the prettiest girl in town riding at my side
and I knew when we grew up, she'd be my bride.
June 30, 2022
A Watermelon Fantasy Ride To Feed My Imagination
Contest sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..." E.E. Cummings
Hello my dearest darling, it was our time to wake,
The rustic rooster had already roused my reverie,
Heralding the dewy dawn
Of our new great day.
For I could never live without you.
I yearned for your presence all the time.
Everywhere in the countryside was peace
And crowned with our steadfast love
With the sound of nurturing nature.
As I lay on our comfy broad bed,
I looked at my still-slumbering wedded wife.
Her fragrant freckled face looked on so serenely,
A soft sweet smile hovered on her luscious lips
So peaceful and fair,
As if she were amid many pleasant placid dreams
So I could not bear to wake her up and spoil
Her various favorite fantasies.
Suddenly her emerald eyes fluttered wide open,
And saw my boyish grim smiling seductively at her.
She grabbed my head and lowered me on her lips
That smell of lavish lavender filled my nostrils.
This was a harmonious heaven on earth.
Later we went down for our favorite food,
We rode our bikes and pedaled hard,
Admiring the snow-capped mountains that rose far.
Cedars, larches, and junipers adorned the steep slopes
Where eagles, kites and vultures flew
Searching for their potential prey.
Whilst on the grassy picturesque plain,
Warblers, thrushes and orioles
Twittered their serenade symphony songs.
Finally, we arrived at my Taverna
And beckoned the masterful Manager.
Heard the required report on the gains I made.
Everything was smooth
For I wear my enchanting emotions up my sleeve.
We idled the dreamy day away,
Hugging and kissing most of the time.
Partook of a delicious dinner for two,
But at closing time we went back home,
To a well-needed restful rural repose
In each other’s enticing embrace.
Placed 1st
Well I was feeling stir crazy and I needed to move
All juiced up you could say, with something to prove
So I strapped a helmet to my melon and headed for the door
No telling where I was heading, just feet to the floor
I hopped on my bike, closed my eyes and sped away
Letting go of all the stresses that led up to that day
To unwind I ride blind, and when I ride, I ride the rind
The watermelon kind, in the unexplored of my mind
So uphill to the clouds I inclined launching through fluff
My tire seeds flying from speed, the skies rough
The faster I pedaled the more seeds hit the clouds
Mixing with raindrops, growing like unruly crowds
These air born watermelon vines suspended in the sky
I couldn’t explain if I tried so don’t ask me why
It began to rain, but not your regular precipitation
Green and white orbs hurdle down without hesitation
Now I’m riding back home on a falling melon mountain
Exploding everywhere like a fruity citrus fountain
Sweet pink pulp showering the earth as they land
More seeds take root now and isn’t it grand!?
There isn’t a square foot not sprawling with melon
And if loving this is bad, well, call me a felon!
An endless supply of the sweetest summer slices
Who would have ever thought, if left to my own devices
My scenic bike ride up above would leave an orchard
For the whole world! And if you think that it’s absurd
Then YOUR bike is probably made of metal, and rubber tires
And maybe you are the one that has some crossed wires
So listen up honeydew, you may say I’m out of my gourd
But you cantaloupe being married to an idea you can’t afford
Squash the misconceptions and you just might really find
You’ll close your eyes, open your mind and love to ride the rind!
June 28, 2022
A Watermelon Fantasy Ride Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
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
One weary dusk, after a day of teaching’s strain,
I pedaled my bike through the traffic’s refrain.
The smog of exhaust kissed my tired face,
As car horns screamed in their frantic race.
The gut feeling above my head wanted to pry,
“Why not take a risk? Just give it a try.”
But then I was right, the path of my wandering feet
Went wrong all the way to another street.
I recall my old self in a cemented jungle
Of a filthy city- I had never learned to juggle.
Where people lived bound, their dreams denied,
Captive to sorrow with no place to hide.
No matter how hard I pedaled my way,
I was stuck, unable to move or sway.
Not smog, but poverty clung to my skin,
A cruel fate I never chose to begin.
Here, plates would shatter before roosters would crow,
Un-gargled mouth would bicker with no peace to show.
There’s religion, yes, but why so crude?
Why is life filled with bitterness and feud?
It’s dusk again, and clouds fade from sight,
Mama took the blow from my father’s palm.
While her empty stomach crumbled, his clenched fist,
A tragic tale no meal could fix.
Where’s the one who wandered astray?
Regretful now, like a prodigal’s way.
Turning back to the road I know,
To a home where light will surely show.
The dawn breaks through, a radiant beam,
Guiding a soul from a hopeless dream.
But the path ahead is narrow and steep,
With faith as my only treasure to keep.