Pedaling Poems | Examples

Planet in pluvial fluvial flux

Planet in flux…it sucks

No refuge..Scrooge rules..

Stooges subterfuge deluge..

Fossil fuel fools..

Poleaxes..then relaxes…

As the earth burns..

As it turns..on its axis..

***************
Us schmucks battling....

Puzzling...prattling clucks...

Aloof to proof....daft defiance..

Shucks the sleuth of science..

**************
Glower at their ivory tower..

Cruise ship trip fillip..

Dour baby boomer power..

******

Absurd herd..cans compliance

Uncouth trampling truth..

Nip & tucks alliance..

Mottled rucks…throttled petro bucks...

Plucks for retro reliance..

*******

Muzzling…weasel hatchets meddling...

Diesel guzzling trucks..

Saluting high falutin polluting

Pander to propaganda pedaling..

Ratchets up our dander…

Open the ruddy window!

Have a bloody gander!

Chances of Me Leaving Home

chances of me leaving home
chances of me donning blues
chances of me wearing a flight suit
chances of me being chosen
     to carry the sports flag
chances of me staying

what chance do I have to find love
chances of living a life apart
     from what I had known

chances of being whistled at by ships
chances of the greatest adventure of my life
chances of boogie boarding the Pacific
chances of kittens
yes, kittens…mom wasn’t a fan

chances of tempura and teriyaki
chances of children in muumuus and leis
chances of sunshine and rainy season days
chances motor pedaling a bit far away
    what we won’t do when we are pinch-cheek young

chances of wading, submerging, merging
     with (parrot- butterfly- trigger- trumpet- ) fish; and tangs
chances of Hanauma reef and frozen peas
chances of being half a world away

chances of my son finding love in Guam
chances of my daughters marrying Southerners
chances of happiness
chances of me leaving home

His Scale

I fill your cup with light from sun up
till sun down with 
the brightest of smiles
Don't frown when it appears you're 
running on empty for
you'll be replenished 
by the mile
This one life is a game over the 
heads of many so listen
closely to what
I say
A man with many hats I have styles
for days one for every
arena in which
I play
I'm one with this Arcade so for
awhile it's these
numbers I'll 
consume
The uptick comes in spades with
many keys until
we move to
other rooms
We're all just flowers in bloom pedaling 
toward the sky while
we languish 
& toil
Don't let this fill your heart with
anguish but be
full while you're 
seeding this soil
You'll keep receiving the spoils
as if you were &
always born 
to be the victor
Just measure your winnings with
scales & caution 
while keeping an
eye on the Richter

Big Kid Small Town

When I was a kid, about ten,
Living in a very small town,
The streets were all gravel,
And I was free until sundown.

I would leave the house each day,
Ride my bike to get my friend,
And we would race across town,
All four blocks from end to end.

The only places we went
Were the park or the little store.
We got two pieces of gum
For a quarter, sometimes more.

Pedaling like hell to get away,
We were outlaws on the run.
The park only had two swings,
But those monkey bars were fun.

We'd go home when hungry,
Eat, then be back out the door.
That big taste of freedom
In that small town we'd explore.

Never once was there a worry
Until the sun started to fade.
When the street light came on,
My curfew had been made.

I'd tell my buddy goodbye
And make my way back home.
A little kid who felt grown
In that tiny town I'd roam.

running away

we ran away 
each riding on our tricycle.... 
switched all the way home 

privet hedge limbs  
have so many uses.... 
red streaks on my legs 

the ride back home 
took so much longer.... 
crying and pedaling

self confident Mort

March hare rides a bike to twinkle town court
The rest of the bunnies are a bit jealous of Mort.
He thinks he’s all that, and I guess maybe he is.
Said a caramel-eating rabbit named Oldie McGizz.

Mort hears the chatter, and smiles deep and wide.
He has self-confidence, which means he likes himself inside.
He keeps pedaling, all the way to twinkle town court.
Thinking to himself, I am the most amazing Mort.

Watching Frog On a Trapeze

frog came across tightrope riding on a bike so high
entire circus crowd gave a loud gasp and a sigh
there is a dog in that basket! A little one yelled.
We held our breath now, for he could have been killed.

the frog was cocky, reckless, wild, and crazy for sure.
But dogs are innocent, loyal, kind, totally pure.
I hope the dog is okay, someone yelled from the crowd.
Let the dog down! We began shouting, some of us loud.

frog gave us another cocky wave, and kept pedaling away.
it was a scary ending to a very nerve-wracking day.
the next act was an acrobat who had done away with the net.
I was too nervous to stay, so I ran home to be with my pet.

Fomented

In field of emotions, a fire-storm has grown,
Seeds of rebellion aflame and wind-borne are sown.
Creating chaotic scenes, burned by spirit's flame,
Fomented fervor, a revolutionary game.

Fomented hearts, with courage compromised are made lame,
Unyielding on purpose, foments have staked their claim.
Anger simmers, rancor seethes, and heart beat wavers
In the cauldron of discord, it quivers quavers.

Fomented minds, with thoughts so tainted, twisted unkind,
Make claims to sublime reason, unravel unwind
They inflame the embers of long stagnant belief,
Awakening the masses asleep, pedaling grief.

The frothy foment foam spewed up into the crowd,
Ignites ferment and loathing in threatening cloud.

Grandpa and I

Grandpa took me to the ice cream store.
On my tricycle, yes, I was well_loved!
What girl in braids, could ask for more?

There were comic books there, too.
Pedaling along, in my white sandaled shoes.
And yes, paste and new pencils, too.

Friendly butterflies and lovely, tall trees
Birds of all sizes, that chirped so merrily.
What lovely days~that gave birth to poetry.


3/5/2023

We Call Him Silver

Lee rides a silver fish all day long was the report.
We call him Silver, and he is a good sport.
What is a silver fish? I asked my friend Tike.
Not sure, he answered, but it looks like a bike.

Silver Fish is a customized contraption made by Lee
He must purchase a car though, if he wants to date me.
I am not fond of pedaling, I have a bad right knee.
So, Silver and I decided to never a couple be.

Upside Down, Inside Out

Hummingbird hardly heard,
airily, merrily
extraordinarily
effortless floating, near
weightless transparency,
seemingly without the
slightest of care.

Urgent persistency,
terribly panicky,
frenzied and frantic, she's
burning through energy
rapidly, hungrily;
precise machinery
executes there.

Mallard so lazily,
buoyantly floating on
glassy flat waters, he
glides on the surface, and
wanders unhurriedly,
conveying contentment,
trivial feat.

Feet like a bicycle
furious pedaling,
splendidly, swimmingly, 
chasing and fishing, he's
hungrily hunting and
ready to eat.

My Unicycle Ride

It's my first time riding a unicycle,
I am terrified.
I don't want to let go of this wall
and end up mortified. 

My friend had told me it was easy;
Now I know she lied.
She promises she'll be right there
and she's by my side.

I take a breath, I shift my feet,
I pedal just a bit.
The wheel scoots forward, so do I.
Finally, I commit!

I let go, pedaling forward,
I'm finally doing it! 
I laugh with joy and stop the cycle.
Now's a good time to quit.

Oh the Hell With It Its a Holiday

Oh the Hell with it   It’s a Holiday
David J Walker
 
Knowing that
I am going
 
On a diet but that
Fat or slim
 
I will die anyway
But try not to stray
 
Into the fast foods
And savory flavors
 
Tempting me with
Deep fried
 
Culinary favors from
A Pied eyed Piper Pedaling
 
Perfectly baked
Buttery dishes
 
Cornmeal flaked and
Best wishes
 
For a man like me
Preferring deep
 
Fried catfishes to
Any kind of sushi
 
Oh….
            The hell with it
It’s a holiday

Winter Vii - Butterflies Behind the Snow

The snow covering the ground
Out my window
Goes on like torn-out pages
From my empty journal
Striped with a shadow from an old Red Maple 

A bookmark

To the Monarch’s migration
From the mountains of Mexico
To here

Where we wait the four generations
It takes
For the butterflies’
Arrival

To drink from a cup of Michigan milkweed

Pedaling their wings
On the lakes of our wind

Weighting the Earth just enough
To keep the orbit in its gentle place
Rippling around the violet sun

And from these passing quiet gestures
My book of pages stirs and flutters

I look up

Find a prayer of words to move forward.

Mishka

He walked in with
White Converse and 
Striped shirt.

Five years ago, spoke
born a friend.
Five years of 
flying down concrete 
pedaling two wheels
rocking a park bench watching
cars drive by, clouds drifting in the endless
expanse of blue.

Sixteen years of fighting of 
being not enough of
cracking open of
another cold one of
another cold joke of
injecting the morphine of 
laugher and being of 
busy brightening lives of
others that no one noticed of
tungsten in his bulb’s overheated of 
burned out, gone, of

when they found him he was gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone into the abyss of white.

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