Star BG May 17

I glide into my life everyday,
as if I'm on a bicycle.  
A fun ride
to feel the wind gently caress face.
To experience the power inside the moment.

Yes, I ride a bike everyday
to pedal through all my dreams.

Inspired by Ana Papaya
Paul Cam May 9

You are riding into the sunset
on the Nine Streets
Going against traffic
but it’s all good 
says a sign ‘Uitgezonderd’ beneath

Out of nowhere
an exuberant Porsche Cayenne appears
enters your vision
stealing the peace
your space
damn businessman!

Just get your key out
Slash through the paint
Expose the metal
Teach them what it takes
to mess with a bicycle

Anivel Aidan Mar 19

remember your first bicycle?
i was so happy, so eager to learn,
i remember going through so much pain
falling on my face, picked up by my dad
as i cried and he kissed my feet saying
'there, it's all good now'
but then the bicycle ended up being my life
for a few short years
but then it is too small, and i was too big
i have grown, and it hadn't.
so i said goodbye and put it on the corner of the garage.
bought a brand new one.

i realize now, it's kind of like you and me.
you have grown, back then, and i hadn't.
you've made other friends, and i hadn't.
that's why when i'm not what you wanted,
not what you needed anymore, you left,
little by little.
you replaced me, just like the yellow bicycle
that leans onto the wall, unused and forgotten.

John Reilly Jan 28

Four months
Too long
Too cold
Too dark
Too busy
Held ransom
By reasons
No excuses
Idiopathic idiocy
Pathological apathy
Four months
Of pain
Eradicated by
four seconds
Of cycling
Cognitive breakthrough
A synaptic symphony
Endorphin re-indoctrination
Free flight
From myself
Four months
Fuck you

Lydia Hirsch Nov 2016

This is my attempt to rationalize beauty.

A few years ago I saw a woman riding on a
green bicycle. I don’t know how to explain it,
but something clicked in me, and I was never
the same again, though the woman will never

know I exist, let alone that she’s affected my
life in so profound a way. All of my failed attempts
at novels, including the one I’m currently in the
process of disappointing myself with, have been called

The Woman on the Green Bicycle. I think of
her every day. I haven’t the slightest idea why.
I don’t try to invent stories for her, but appreciate
that one little image I have of her.

Mom was driving me home from school. The
Woman was crossing a busy intersection on her
green bicycle. “Do you see her, Mom?” I asked.
She didn’t understand. But I knew I had witnessed

an act of beauty.

Morning bike ride. Wind
rushes past my face.
Light and shadow play
for space on the pavement.
All things are possible
in this new air.

I don't know how to ride a bicycle
So you grabbed the bike and showed me how
But I didn't quite understand how you did it

So you let me ride it while holding the backside
I pedalled slowly at first, then gradually faster
Until the breeze hits my face and I've got smile on my lips

At last, I thought, I learned how to ride it
Then I looked behind and saw the view
You're not holding it anymore, you're faraway from me

I'm far from you, and you waved goodbye
So, I turned towards north and pedalled some more
At last, I thought, I learned how to ride the bicycle.

I didn't know how to ride a bicycle
But you taught me how, so I turned towards north, and pedalled some more.

for some people only comes to your life to teach you something and help you balance life. but you gotta leave them behind and let go with a thankful heart.
PS I actually don't know how to ride a bicycle. Haha
Sean Tierney Jun 2016

rainy days have always
brought me to the surface

I suppose I
move through the world
like a worm
lodged in the tire tread
of a child's bicycle

another major re-write for the ol' manuscript...
Derron Schronce Mar 2016

Across my path, skipping on air uplifting, yellow wings pulse erratic in fashion as they go about their flight of fancy. I think not much, yet smile for such lighthearted play before me.

Moments and miles pass, alas, yellow wings appear and arrive in the sigh of the wind. As if to capture me they whip wildly in every direction as I dodge and lean, avoiding collision in our dance of dare.

Like ticking hands of clever clockwork they point in my direction, and I wonder of the message scripted on the yellow wings of things seeking my attention.

I think not of random chance in meeting yellow wings so plenty, and I begin to see the glee in the creatures flight. The crawler once grounded is now the flyer free, to be everything it dreamt impossible. To relinquish what was and greet what is, with gusto and fervor in fever pitch.

I nod and acknowledge the message received, the butterfly and I affirm our mantra, “I am not he, tis merely me, morphed into spirit soaring.” I sense the change and feel the difference between what was hidden and that which magic has revealed, through eyes upon yellow wings.

Derron Schronce Mar 2016

Curls of clouds,

high above the songs of cardinals,

their red wings brush the air that chill my face

Upon the road that beckons forth the wheels,

they carry me through joy,

to places wide and free

From which my mind will abandon thought and then,

my heart does sing a melody of love,

with sun on my face and brow

Winds nudge,

they drive me forward in motion towards peaks and plains,

the landscape changes its mind, and my view

Riding there and back,

out beyond the limits of lights and lanes,

there lies tranquility on my bike

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