Short Handlebars Poems

A book of scars 
tells the tale of a lively past;
A book of scars 
falling off of my handlebars 
opens leaving me an outcast; 
Still, I am who I am if asked;
A book of scars....

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Children in the dark

Of bitter memoir

Are but a spoke in a wheel

On a cycle

To round and round go

But for feet off the pedals

Hands off the handlebars

Wind in face

There happy place...

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What's behind your well groomed facial hair
Pretend not to have a single care
Whiskers that hide scars
Moustache handlebars 
Detours to avoid the barber's chair



AP: 3rd place 2020

Posted on August 11, 2019...

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Bright pink Apollo Candy bike
her smile as wide as handlebars
with new found freedom my young tyke
laughed as she tried to race the cars


Viv Wigley
25th November 2015

For contest 'A Christmas memory', sponsored by Broken Wings...

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Secrets,
now memories,
piggybacked through summer.
On handlebars, calloused fingers
steered dirt bikes to an emerald kingdom.
Two boys, on tree stump thrones, ruled worms
unearthed with splendid crowns
of sundrenched leaves,
carefree.   


Written 2/27/17...

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Let go of both the handlebars,
free the fireflies from mason jars;
Poignant lyrics sprung from memoirs
barz built for starz, barz built for starz;

So much fervor flooding the mic 
moving across the stage catlike;
He’s controlling a missile strike
riding a bike, riding a bike....

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Cruising my bike up the beach
Gave that hot chick a bicycle ride
Hoping one day she'll be my bride
We went over the handlebars with a screech
Crashed headfirst into the hardpacked sands
Which ruined my hopes of wedding plans
Cruising my bike up the beach

Make It Seven Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
10/4/19

Picture # 1...

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Start 
to shape 
a moustache
this time of year,
handlebars, pencils,           
or lines from ear to ear,
funny grins for volunteers,
and charities will remember,
a tidy growth every November

handlebars, pencils, = types of moustaches

A November Nonet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich 
Counter > Howmanysyllables 
11/09/22...

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A little boy from the city
down on the farm for a day
wanders away 

to look at the sheep
and finds a bull 
penned up to go 

to the county fair.
The boy loves  
the big Texas Longhorn 

quietly eating his hay.
The boy smiles at him
admires his beautiful horns

thinks they're handlebars
the biggest he’s ever seen.
So over the fence for a ride.  


Donal Mahoney...

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The Mustache

Thick and brown, 
wide and black, 
Up and down… with handlebars…

Some to the sides, 
and some to the middle, 
it is just so hard to say, 
to mention all the hairy types,
and, all the merry ways…

A special comb
A special brush, 
A special man indeed…

A hairy face, 
Sometimes…out of place,
but so fun to talk to…,
when found…any place. 

Ah… the stache…...

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We’ll tell the naysayers to go take a hike -
we're kids at heart and having so much fun!
I’m sitting on the handlebars in the blazing sun
whilst hubby's freewheeling our old pedal bike.
So what if we're pensioners with graying hair
we're both on the cycle, we don't have a care -
we'll tell the naysayers to go take a hike!

Image 1 chosen

Make it Seven poetry contest 
Sponsored by Joseph May
10/14/19...

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Come out, come out, taste the bouquet!
Flowers smell better tossed with stars;
Tonight the fairies will come out to play;

Riding the sky without handlebars 
the Fey’s toadstools delicately ring;
Their vibrato hanging within bell jars;

As you gaze within wings are fluttering,
throwing a wimpering whirring glow;
Your reality is left all but stuttering;

Vim and vigor pollinate with gusto,
tender loving care allows wishes to grow....

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The bike you thought you wanted
Lies wasting in the yard
It now has weathered paint
And rusted handlebars
Briefly shown some favor
When it was brand new
Once thinking it unique
But changed your point of view
It never lost it's usefulness
It hardly stood a chance
You laid it down and walked away
A choice of circumstance
What made you change your mind
How could you be so fickle
It simply takes some time to learn
To ride a new bicycle...

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Camels do bite and even spit but for desert travel nothing as equipped
They lie upon the ground and you set astride, up they go and you're riding high
A saddle with a blanket for your bottom, handlebars for hands
 bouncing, bouncing upon the sands 
Stop at an oasis relish the shade, for this journey camels are made
They kneel for you to get down and as your feet touch the ground
You hope the camel knows it's way back
since the wind swept away his camel tracks...

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It is hard to let go
 
Of the hand you are holding
 
On the first day of school.

Or the handlebars of a bike

To ride “no-hands”.

The wall at the roller rink. 

The bar of the roller coaster.

The time you are called away to serve. 

The time you are told: “There is someone else”.

The time the veterinarian says: 

“There is nothing more we can do”.

The time when visiting hours are over.

The time you close your eyes for the last time,

It is hard to let go....

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