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.
Jesyca
A little girl full of life with so much love
for her papa. It was love at first sight
when papa laid eyes on her at her birth.
He was her nanny; papa never laid
her down but cradled her in his arms
until it was time to leave.
He was mama until she was two.
When he would correct her, he'd say,
"No, "Papa."
She was unbending and would repeat by saying,
"No," Mama."
He taught her to ride her first tricycle,
taught her to throw her first ball,
he helped her with homework when she started school.
Once in a while she'd call and asked,
"Papa would you come to school today
and have lunch with me."
and of course, Papa couldn't never say no to his little girl.
Her first baseball game she played on,
was a t-ball team of all boys and one girl.
Of course, she outshined them all
and took home the winning game ball.
She has been playing in the All–Star Softball Team.
Now eight years old,
coaches are watching her to get her on their team.
By Eve Roper 9-10-2014
Look
I can
Ride my tricycle
On only two wheels
because I have to
till we fix it
and fix it we will
in the poor quarters
downtown
the tricycle
in our midst is
overused and well shared
among many
It's because we care
for each other
and the little things we
do and have matter
that I can ride
my tricycle
on two wheels only.
As a kid I tried to ride a tricycle down a hill
Start was fine, but as speed inclined the handlebars shaking grew
To wobbling crescendo, and the trike bike ejected me the dill.
I also tried billycarts galore racing down dogleg hill slope descent
Trouble was where did you go when car appeared coming up the road
No choice but to lay back, and slide under parked car, to dent with intent.
You ended up stuck, jammed under the car all covered in grease and blood
Still, alive you were, to race another day down Evil Kenevil hill
The trick was to use tiny ball-bearing wheels on flat-bed missile scud.
I'll never know how I survived the dare-devil trike and billycart rides
Down tracks and roads with no brakes, helmet or boots
Surviving all the grazes scratches, bumps, bruises and back-side glides.
Jesyca
A little girl full of life with so much love
for her papa. It was love at first sight
when papa laid eyes on her at her birth.
He was her nanny; papa never laid
her down but cradled her in his arms
until it was time to leave.
He was mama until she was two.
When he would correct her, he'd say,
"No, "Papa."
She was unbending and would repeat by saying,
"No," Mama."
He taught her to ride her first tricycle,
taught her to throw her first ball,
he helped her with homework when she started school.
Once in a while she'd call and asked,
"Papa would you come to school today
and have lunch with me."
and of course Papa couldn't never say no to his little girl.
Her first baseball game she played on,
was a t-ball team of all boys and one girl.
Of course, she outshined them all
and took home the winning game ball.
She has been playing in the All–Star Softball Team.
Now eight years old,
coaches are watching her to get her on their team.
By Eve Roper 9-10-2014
My first tricycle should have been built for two
My baby sister jumped on the back
Down through the woods we zoomed
Running into a tree, I scraped my knee
Across the handle bars she flew
My beautiful tricycle could not be fixed
The cuts and scrapes were only small knicks
We never rode a tricycle again
But me and my sister
Are forever best friends
The tricycle army
What does a tricycle mean to a three year old?
Just as another plaything, does, it, she behold?
Loving it like the grown-up’s love for love’s madness
On it, she roves about the yard and inside the house.
But , is it all there is to this special bonding?
No, it has got another level of standing.
Like, when she thinks someone in the house had hurt her
Crying for help, she runs to her grandfather,
Quickly mounts her tricycle without omission
And escorts the grandpa to the scene of action
Seated on its saddle like a queen on horseback
Shouts orders to give her tormentor a nice whack
Applauding the action with gleeful laughter
The- tricycle- army glides back to its quarter.
For: Gwendolen Rix’s “My Bicycle” contest
28 apr 12
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