During my bicycle ride
through the countryside one evening,
I saw along the hamlet lane
in the quiet backcountry,
girls in plain dresses walking together,
brass pots shinning at their sides
to fetch water.
They moved towards the nearby pond,
with laughter, free of rank and pride.
Their joy simple and unrestrained –
a sight I loved to see
as I pedaled slowly by.
My mind paused a moment among them
unfastening the chains of inequality,
social evils and worries in life,
as I pedaled slowly down the dusty path
watching their simple joy.
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 tied a string to my tricycle handle.
In the basket, I placed a shining candle.
From the other end, I tied a balloon.
By hook and crook, I knew that one day soon,
I'd be in the court of the Crimson King.
But what would he offer - not a thing.
He sailed a walnut shell in the gutter,
floating like a boat without a rudder.
So, I pedaled to the frozen North,
as my balloon and I sallied forth.
an erotic bike ride
as we rode along,
she said she
wished that she
was my bike
that she liked
how i pedaled
and i turned
to her
and said,
i wished she was
my pedal
that i liked
how she pumped
and when we arrived
at the bike rack
smiling
we both secretly
wished that
it was a bed
where we would
one day
rack it all up
Santa's wife wasn't happy at home.
With Rudolf, on long trips she did roam.
'Ol Santa took to drinkin',
Don't know what he was thinkin'
When he showed her his dapper new comb.
Mrs. Claus slammed shut the bedroom door.
Santa said, "what did you do that for?"
Rudolf was wearing a grin.
What Santa said was a sin
When he called his dear missus a whore.
Santa's reindeer all went on strike,
And his wife told him, "Take a hike".
So, he gave up the bottle,
And he pedaled full throttle,
Delivering each toy from his bike.
Amazed Sue said, “This bike is built for three!”
How weird is that? How crazy can that be?
Women do not get along in threes, do they?
Let’s give it a try said two, and they pedaled away.
Three women on a bike, how much fun could that be?
By the end of the time, one was a clear enemy.
Women, like girls cannot get along with each other.
Not in odd numbers; just ask me or my mother.
Kai put the koi on first
Their bags were the heaviest
With all the water weight
Next he attached his bags of goldfish
Luckily, he lived in a town where people understood
His need to sell, and the need for the fish to survive
Kai pedaled his bike to the market
Hoping not to encounter practical jokers or thieves
"scared"
"I'm getting off"
Still, my bike ride continued
everyday I cried and closed my eyes
I begged ardently
feeling father's hand, we went forward
"Dad, are you holding it?"
"Are you holding the bike well?"
in a large playground
there was father and me alone
already a month
I was just falling wheeling
I couldn't even ride my bike for a few minutes
every time like this
Father
with one hand
wrapped up my back and shoulders
with the other hand
prevented the bike from falling over
we were moving towards the finish line
little by little
when it getting dark
Returning home,
Father whispered in my ear
"Don't look back!"
"Yes"
At sunset, we stood at the starting line of the playground
Again
I pedaled harder than any other day
The bike flew forward like a flying bird
The finish line began to appear before my eyes
listening to father's tired breathing and footsteps
I felt father's hand so
I was able to keep our promise
i knew
Father, not with hands, but with love
like a bike,
he was holding on to my life.
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!
I woke up one gray and melancholy morning
munching oatmeal and buttered toast, alone
same as yesterday, last week and maybe tomorrow
when I saw a whirling wonder flying down the road.
It whirled outside my windowpane
it whirled from head to toe
it whirled with neon pinks and greens
it whirled and twirled and flowed!
I saw a bicycle with watermelon wonder wheels
as it rode in tumbling tandem down the road
and on it sat a generous, plump lady ballerina
wearing bright red lipstick, holding a bright red rose.
She waved at me and smiled, as I gawked at her, alone
her hair flew wildly behind her, as she pedaled down the road
the clouds suddenly parted, and as the morning sun shone
joy filled my eyes, to see that watermelon wheel rider
whirling down the road.
He walked around the showroom
the cars were shining bright
He told the nearest salesman
I do not see a bike
They thought he meant motorcycles
instead of brand-new cars
The little green man got offended
so he pedaled on back to Mars
How many leaves?
Ah, you can’t count because it’s burning hot
Vermilion Red Hands
One on top another
Seem to transform into
A perfect synthetic persona
Their burning desire is to color
The whole world
With true red
Sadly, their nerve fibers
Cannot connect with each other
Oh, God
I watch them tremble in this hopeless struggle
I took a ride on my bike
Holding them on the front basket
Pedaled hard, at full speed, so that
All winds will toss them,
Scramble them
Shuffle them
Here, the top of a cliff
This is the farthest I can come
Where the reds slide from my palms
At the end of the world
Blown by the last and strongest
Gust of the wind
Each red leaf was then dancing
Down to the deepest blue of the ocean
I felt they wanted me to say
Good-bye
He stood on the steps as his feet hit the floor
Opened the window and yelled out the door
Called for the cat using just the dog’s name
All was quite normal with nothing the same
He hopped in his car as he pedaled his bike
On a short walk that was such a long hike
Climbed up a tree while he rolled down the hill
Won’t do this again and he probably will
For the Nonsense Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina
Whisker Fever had suffered a really horrible, angry, bad day.
He had not gotten the Kibble he wanted. His master was way.
Creature he’s left him with was too prissy and stuck-up to like.
He would have pedaled away if he had been left with a bike.
“Oh, Whiskers,” she cooed, in a saccharine voice, irritating him.
She had a tiny bit of oatmeal stuck firmly to her left chin.
“Where is my big boy?” she crooned, like she was a friend.
If he had an axe, he would have given her a swift happy end.
“Where are you Honey?” she asked in a voice meant to please.
He hid in the smallest cupboard, a place his body could barely squeeze.
Tonight when she was asleep, he had a diabolically wonderful plan.
He would dump all her fish, watch them twist in his hand.
Then he would gulp them up and spit out their heads.
Their eyes would go buggy showing their last moments of dread.
Whisker Fever was angry as all get up, and wanted to leave.
But then she brought home catnip, and renamed him King Steve.
rolling up
with pedaled breath
I came upon the mounded snow
that telltale shape
in streetlight glow
my prize!
my goal!
crumpled bills, rising hope
I spilled off my bike
ran up that shoveled icy slope
cracking door, splitting light
I threw the cash, I grabbed the key
my hopes now soaring above the night!
(no more pedaling for me! Hee hee!)
I tore off round the house with haste
ah, the fumes!
the freedom!
such a sweet, sweet taste!
scrape the glass, then jump inside,
that musty smell
ah, who cares, it's now my ride
turn the key
a sputter, another!
click! click! a muffled shudder!
but soon a wheeze
a petrol cough
a roar to life,
I'm off! I'm off!
down the lane
I rolled and sped
new found freedom on Vulcan's tread
but wait! a pop!
an urgent whine
what fell spirit steals this dream from me?!
rolling stop with shivered needle
a dashlit arrow stares right back...
pointing laser straight at the letter E.
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.