Wheel Poems - Poems about Wheel

I sometimes wonder if I’m meant to be a third wheeler In friendships, romance, and in the world Standing on the sidelines always dreaming I notice them siting together Her arm wrapped around him; they both smile carefree I close my eyes and wish I was them...

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Written: June 08, 2025 for contest by Brian Strand ********************* of ...

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Life requires adventures sometimes So that we can gain courage all along I'm telling you, slide down from here And your troubles will disappear then Come and try it, it will be interesting It's better than being alone at home With your thoughts and being bored It's good being childish sometimes Recall the old fun play hide and seek Than...

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"Go along to get along" a wise man he once said (altho' I don't concur) but it occurred to me neither follower nor leader be if you want to get ahead and if the herd you stroll behind please do consider the view (but not too closely) yet what is worse yes you may curse that which you step into some believe the...

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Why does the trolley dolly or cart I choose to use in every supermart always have a wonky wobbly wheel and feel oh so wearing as if it's about to lose its marbles or ball bearings? It clunks like junk with a 'thunking' sound and almost dumps my groceries on the ground won't go straight invariably tilts veers careens or curves and without a doubt indubitably gets on my nerves ...

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Emotions are stroking, Combing through my being. Seeing them growing, Now taking control of me. My tongue acts appropriately, A person I don't want to be. Acting uncontrollably, And then feeling sorry. Emotions just grab ahold of me, Running my reality, Ruining what I thought to be. Battling duality, Challenging all of me, Revealing what I could't see. As energy affects everybody, Emotions signal the party, Attracting those just like me. Trapped...

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Don't love deeply Till you are sure Whom deeply so. How deep your love Is how deeply Wounds tomorrow. Whom you cry for Is deep down there Your heart long for. Soon tears stop If heart too tired No more wheel tears....

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Changes, know what they’re all about; Flip each of the pages on double breasted doubt; Let it go in stages. Back road may be a bit longer but you lighten the load; The trip makes you stronger left running in beast mode. Do it! You have your future locked; Sick rambunctious misfit you always leave them shocked, I’ve got five on your wit Changes can...

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The Endless Wheel Hamster like, I run all day, too bad it is not for play. I make my wheel to spin, wonder, when will it all end. I try to grab my tail, but, in the end, I will fail. I play catch up all the time, but, in the end, I’m still behind. ...

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Sweet air, sugar high on the breeze; it’s like the county fair; leaves me weak in the knees cinnamon in your hair; Running as long as you permit, now my heartbeat’s humming; Eager fingers comb it, I find this so soothing; Let’s go buck the odds of the fates, find a nice easy flow; Panaderia brunch dates, like my touch let’s be slow....

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The Wheel turns, steady and true, Carrying us with every hue. Through long dark nights and endless dawns, The dance of seasons, it pulls us on. Yule whispers in the quiet cold, A flicker of warmth as stories are told. The longest night, but we hold tight, To the promise of light in the coming fight. Imbolc stirs with a fire that’s soft, Brigid’s...

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Droplet, a taste of clever quips; Please don’t ever forget, smear the blood on my lips; Turn my eyes to scarlet; Maroon is a little too dark; Shining under the Moon is the depth of your mark; You woo me and I’ll swoon; Shrewd pain has such an attitude; Suffer me your sweet drain, I’ll willingly be food; Silent, I won’t complain; Sharpen those perfect pointed fangs; My soft skin will...

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The obscenely convincing, have arrived in their stealth mobiles. We are made to unmake-belief, to regurgitate Saran wrapped words. Wide-eyed we watch the spreading creep of windowless thought-factories. Druids rage for the loss of their tongues. Magic dragons puff obesely and cannot now climb their spines. Combative batmen tussle with spitting cats. It all makes no-sense, and yet we know the fantasy is built on self-destructing concrete, we see...

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Juno doesn’t like my wheel; not sure I comprehend the deal. She greets me when I walk on by, but on the wheel I think I’d die if only for that flimsy fence; it really doesn’t make much sense. The wheel invokes her sense of chase and I would surely lose that race. No, Juno doesn’t like my wheel, and I’d not like to...

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secured in place upon painted seat spokes crisscross at its heart neither useful positioned to gain dismissed attention the 'art', of course, is a parody of itself named a 'readymade' a concept - to make you think we all need that as we run without rims upended we are not a concept built all...

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