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Chad Young Jan 8
How did I walk 37 miles in 19 hours?
How did I bike 90 miles in 11 hours?
Inhale in nose, exhale in nose 4x
Inhale in nose, exhale in mouth 4x
Inhale in mouth, exhale in nose 4x
Inhale in mouth, exhale in mouth 4x
And repeat.

You just need enough food and water and a pair of soft and hard soled shoes.
Life's wisdom
Ashlyn Rimsky Dec 2019
it is sixty degrees
the sun on your skin

you have nowhere to be
and everywhere to go

not a cloud in the sky,
not a bump in the road

just this moment
just this sliver of heaven

just your feet on the pedals
your eyes on the horizon

unspoken joy, an effortless smile
wheels turning forward motion
Levi Bradford Apr 2018
It's morning, rain has fallen making all the ground darker shade and I'm sweaty,
and, god, I didn't want to be sweaty.
I'm pushing panting up a hill in sixth gear on my six-gear bike because
the gear-shifter has long since broken
as a result of a time I cut too close to a
old-fashioned lamp post,
caught my pedal on it
and went spinning headlong into a rose bush.

The trees are green,
greener than I've ever seen them.
It's morning and the cars shick by, rolling atop the water in the road like Christ did in the early years.
A car slams into a puddle.
When did our lives become so perfectly metaphored in cars?
The a to B life; stopping only when stopped by a glaring light or harsh word; filling up and running out; breaking down only on the road, never in my own garage.

A warm rain will fall this morning.
I hear only the breathy whisper of my breath out my mouth
and engines and tires.
I think nothing, which is a hard-earned comfort
seeing as I, like every person, have a lot to think about,
ever since we invented the automobile; ever since we crucified a sinless man; ever since the moment we thought nothing, and were sent crashing into a rose bush.
Sometimes I'm just so tired of my anxiety
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.
Blazing down the dirt road,
nothing but sky and and and

renegade on the run
like my loose tailing past no longer matters
like everything I was
will be
is lost in the dust burned trail
nothing but sky and and and

it is found again some
forgetful Sunday
when the air smells of
dry salt asphalt
spring mud, river,
racing rapids
bound to lose
nothing but sky and and and

don’t look for me
I’ll be home soon but
don’t look for me
when there's
nothing but sky and and and

Air dancing through
Hair, faster faster I peddle away
Trying to find a way
A haiku dedicated to biking away all the problems in my life. Biking is also a muse and a beautiful companion esp. At the end of the day, one I can always go to. I'm glad I found my bike
Alin Mar 2015
The Sun Is Shining Today
The Storm Has Finally Stopped

a statement says:
<we have done something yesterday
nothing like our best
just something
to stop that storm>
the statement returns true as fact

inconsequent gestures of nature
we weave
to serve an unknown wish
-made of numerous physical and non-physical senses-
so that fabric of a network  
evolves  itself
materializes sense
sense to fabric
fabric to sense
scientifically improbable it remains

an infinitesimal loop
unwinds when you are not there
runs within an ideally operating closed circuit
remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives

an etheric vitality
materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste
and some of yet undefined ones
- possibly  assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable-
executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only.

So then Only then
When You Combine the patchy Network
of Things
of Beings

You Can Dance Them
Sing Them
Play Them
Make Love To Them
Become One With Them
Compose Them


All these on condition that
it remains as an unpacked gift

Without telling to Yourself  
or to Others
or to That Storm
You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm
All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow

But again

How important is it really that biking tomorrow ?
I mean when sighs and cries whirl around?

a statement says:
<you can’t stop wars by fights>
the statement returns true as fact


if I know that
you can stop storms by touches

touches to smells
smells to lights
lights to metals
metals to elements
elements to stars
stars to flights
flights to a breeze on my fingertips
breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss


I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow
so that I can be blown away on a broken December day
and let my long hair collect dune corrals  made of cosmic ray

Huh So Yeah

I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some!
- not because I need to for my own sake or think about it. written on 11 Dec. 2014:  I think some poems have capricious spirits! This one did not allow me to post it until I would bike to the beach. I have done it now after my winter procrastination and the sun was shining this whole weekend :)
Hashim ZK Feb 2015
For a while, I ride my life.
I reflect on my thoughts.
I wander into a different world.
I chase stars.

For a while, I own the dream.
I feel the warmth of the Sun.
I meander on the roads.
I feel the spell.

For a while, I chart my destiny.
I engineer my journey.
I flaunder with joy.
I race the winds.

For a while, I live.
On my wheels.
I'd recently been on a road trip to Goa (India) on Bike. It's around 700kms from where I live. And this came out just as I reached home and reflected on my journey. :)
Christian Reid Oct 2014
Axels and chains and
Feet and brains
It's the bicycle beats
And the trees and the streets
Join the lines in the sidewalk
As I ride and I talk
To myself,
"Breathe in," &
"Breathe out," --
Burning and churning to the
Grooves and the cracks
Red light's the only chance to relax
Racing the bus and flashing a grin
To the sorry folks trapping themselves therein
Ecstasy building with each revolution
Wiping my sweat away, tasting pollution
Grinding and winding a path on my bike
Where cars and pedestrians hate me alike

— The End —