My Bicycle of Imagination
The day and I are hand in hand,
brimming with a zippety-whippity-do.
I sit atop my saddle, my bicycle, my hill;
the morning mist is ragged like candy floss
on barbed wire, waggled fences.
Below a liquorice-tarmacked road
elbows through a mosaicked landscape;
churned fields sitting either side,
serrated into channels of earth;
suited and rooted in browned corduroy.
Then further on and along,
the sky sits sedately on the sea,
resting on a blue, rippled settee,
just out of close reach
of a mustard scarf of a beach.
Clouds rear - wild, white stallions;
they settle, then away at a gallop,
racing, chasing the prize in
the finishing line, the horizon.
Watch out, speedy swallow,
now, it’s my time to follow!!
I sense my bicycle’s stalled frustration,
so my body engine sets it free;
muscles tighten, pedals spin,
it’s time to fly, time to check in.
Off we go…wind pushing at my heels,
sunlight splashing off the wheels
down I swoop, a dance of balance;
the bike glides, the road slides.
Watch me come, watch me go
connecting, perfecting with nature’s flow;
sky, land and sea…………WEEEEEEEEEEE!
Categories:
tarmacked, fun, imagery, imagination, morning,
Form: Free verse
Did the earth weep when we paved the streets
Tarmac. cobbles, flat slabs of grey stone
Leaving merely holes for trees long roots?
Covering in our cities all that’s deep
Startling ancient graves and bits of bone
Did the earth weep when we paved the streets?
Motorways increased that tarmacked roof
As we drive our ruinous cars alone
Leaving there no holes for trees long roots
In the hidden depths beneath our feet
Live the riches, seeds awaiting growth
Did the earth weep when we paved the streets?
As the trees bloom we see our deceit
We want it all but do not pay nor mourn
Leaving there small holes for trees long roots
Once an orchard, now so sterile, torn
The gardens became car parks bleak, forlorn
Did the earth quake when we paved the streets
Leaving merely holes for trees long roots?
Categories:
tarmacked, analogy, feelings,
Form: Villanelle