I wish I could go bike riding with a girl,
I wish I knew how to ride a bike...
or how to perfectly apply lipstick in a way
that looked natural.
There's something about long hair and rural roads,
leaves ruffled along the dusted trail,
perfect petals proud in the wind.
I want it all.
That perfect song during a midnight wander,
the taste of fresh oxygen on my tongue.
The feeling of two eyes locked on mine
hands so soft, fingers unbelievably smooth.
I guess there's more that will come this way,
an imaginable feeling felt only today.

Sarah Jean Ashby May 2012

No age limit.

Don't care if it's a hipster fad.
I Loved you far before the world.
Simplicity of my legs.
Yet so much power behind these things.

You make me throw my OCD needing to rhyme and flow completely out the window.
Well... Sort of.
And yeah, it bugs me that I'm now writing in complete sentences, but I don't even care anymore.

I care about my bike.
And the beauty that it brings to the world.

twilight tempo, pedal
yolky glow, guide me
ride on feel, glide
through inky night
stealthy, silent
twilight, tempo, pedal

mc jules May 18

A child's laugh is heard
Early one morning in May;
Along with the chains of a bike;
Ringing their song,
Harmonizing with rubber tires,
Humming against the street.

Alert as a bird,
The child rides away;
In a day so dreamlike,
And sings along,
With voice like the wildfires;
Seeking a friend to meet.  

The sun reflects on golden hair,
Fingers run though the chopped cut.
A youthful smile glows,
Complementing the sun, so bright.
Interrupted by the squealing of breaks.  

The child stops right there;
Not so childish now, but
The now faded smile shows
That the child is alright;
Although the child aches.

The child has fallen into  
The same May, accept a different year.
The bike's coated with memories and dust.
The tire's out of breath and flat,  
And no song is sung.

Saddened eyes of blue
Accepts nothing but fear.
The laugh turned to rust;
And just to think that
This change has just begun.

April 2016

During my freshman year of high school, in a very rigorous I.B. English class, I was assigned to write a poetry book including seventeen different types of poems. I just thought to share a few with whoever is willing to read them. This was my "change poem" which meant that something was to differ by the end of the poem.

Thank you.

Pushing my bike up the hill as others ride up it.
Their eyes both laugh at me and judge me.

Jon Po Dom Apr 10

I see your green pastures
Coming back to life
Hear birds singing
The woodpecker moves
To the beat of the tree
Springtime has arrived

The waters rush fierce
Moving fish in its current
Leaves slowly returning
The building blocks of life
Arching over like a tunnel
Springtime has arrived

Water droplets fall off the rocks
Creating miniature rivers
Leading to roaring waters
A stream that flows with life
Washing away my cares
Springtime has arrived

Man made beasts
Move through the paths
Post hibernation
Breathing fresh air
And little ones following closely behind
Springtime has arrived

JM 4/9/17

Went hiking with my son for the first time this season. This is what we saw, heard and felt.
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

Solaces Jan 25

On the far side of me was you.  I ride on my lightning bike passed Neptune in route toward home.  Its good to see my solar system.  I have been all over the galaxy.  Seen wonders no one has ever seen.  And yet none are as wonderous as you smiling at me for but a moment.  I cannot have you nor will I steal you away.  All I want is your smile. Just to see it.  Then I will ride off for the 2nd universe.  On my lightning bike made of star glass.  To see if I can find a wonder that is more wonderous than you.  I smile at the thought of me coming back again. Just to view your smile.  Because I know that even in the 2nd universe there is nothing more beautiful than you.

And there she is.

Slipping and sliding, that's how she flies
Dodging the taxis, avoiding semis

Expert in the clinch, a move of her hip
Death so defied, a professional trip

Delivery assured, she's never been late
Vouchers and packets, she makes no mistakes

Gliding the white line, a perfect traverse
No greater her time, in this universe

She prefers her Schwinn, it's light and it's fast
Weaving a path, all traffic to pass

Don't try to catch her, she's over the moon
She ducks as she hums, singing her tune

No records to break, nothing to prove
Doing the freak, shooting the groove

Flying off to the left, a sexy sensual move
She does as she wants, all silky and smooth

Kinda gleaned this from a Dire Straits song "Skate-a-way".
Took it down a bicycle bend, based on seeing vids of delivery riders in NY, who did crazy things on a bike. :D
TKO Aug 2016

I recall inheriting my first bike.
Solid steel.
Pink as a Maritime sunset, only more bright.
I remember replacing my sister's bike after two long years of back-n-forths -- two years of childish insults and character building -- as I choose to see it.

The thing was invincible -- rain or snow.
Save the rust, which had its way.
I missed that old bike for a time...
It was sentimental, as they say.

My next two broke down fast -- they were hardly comparable.
When I was able to buy my own, the excitement was unbearable.

What a beauty 14", titanium dirt jumper,
Canadian made Norco -- Red, it gleams.
Even to this day, twelve years downstream.

It's too bad it hasn't grown with me
Because I'm having trouble giving it away...
We've spent a short lifetime together
And I know I will rue the day
I forsake my childhood
And take
Three hundred dollars
In its place.

This melancholy brings me back,
Because this doesn't feel unlike
When the rust took away
My sister's bike.
This is a true story, I hope you enjoyed it.
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