#bike
Breathe deep, fill your lungs
expanding the chest to extend life
slowly release with lips tightly pursed
til the emptyness seems to make you gasp
eyes defocus as if emptyed of life
waiting for the next ******* in of air
when it comes they focus again
taking in the view over the vallys below
Legs give a tremour, muscles exhausted
knees requesting a seat to relieve the weight
hamstrings are tight, threatening to snap
tendons strained at the ankles, stretched just to far
and all you can think as you stand there
looking back from the direction that you came
and shaking your head unbelieving the pain
is why did I attempt to ride up this ****** hill
Jul 13, 2025
Jul 13, 2025 at 3:28 PM UTC
useless knowledge
reflective ceiling
guys who park their bikes here
never feel anything
i wish that were me
and i wish that were on me
the bike shed stares back
he’s not looking at me
Nov 15, 2024
Nov 15, 2024 at 6:57 AM UTC
Those Bikes
See the goth heavy metal custom motorcycle
Ride past with a long haired rider
Dressed how they should be dressed
Black jeans t shirt denim leather
Low rider chopper as it should be
With twin coffin saddle bags
What a ride to the other side
Give him Devil fingers\M/!
Then there was a classic looking bike
Parked up alone
And I saw two racing bikes
One with a fairing the other naked
Heard his engine as he passed
A man asked me on the bridge
Where am I going?
Planet Mars on a custom bike
With my chick and loud tunes
Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 11:48 PM UTC
I love the two wheeled demons
they are in my soul waiting
to let fly
all my inhibitions
I have studied them
coveted them
but the courage to be free
defeats me
as I see the smiling face of death
on the first hairpin bend
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 5:55 PM UTC
Plane Bike
There was a man who was mad
He ******* wings onto a motorcycle
And went flying up high
The engine turned the prop
That was at the back
And the front was a rudder
His rear passenger was thin
For his plane bike was slow
With a 125cc engine
Going from A to B
No rush here 1500 feet up
Motorbike made plane
Land take the wings off
Ride where you want
No rush here...
Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 4:22 PM UTC
A child begging to be with his dad,
Ride a bike going to the north,
Where her cousins are there.
Sitting in the front,
She saw her dad's hands getting calluses
from an hour biking,
Still seeing her dad with happy smile,
and she don't know why,
Maybe because of the smooth road they're taking,
or the pastures they're passing by,
Trees swaying so as their hair
As they contradicts the direction of the windy day,
The ways are getting longer,
But she let her eyes to freeze on the right side,
it passes beautiful sceneries,
enough not to get boredom,
Getting to the place,
She sees her father, though tired from a long ride,
Lots of stories to talk to her grandmother,
While she plays with her cousin,
This child step
on becoming years older than before,
Realizing that memory as more than anything,
to be treasured
now she misses her dad
while she's away from them,
working for long hours
not getting enough pay,
planning to get farther to them
to earn more than enough
But whenever I gets back to that time
where I used to beg to be with my dad,
I now know why happy he is riding his bike,
I just like to be a child again and go back home now.
-A.M.
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 12:03 AM UTC
"Get out,"
I was told.
"Leave my sight"
I packed a bag.
"Just leave"
I rode off.
"Come back"
I was chased.
"I love you"
My bike was taken.
"You can't leave"
I'm crying.
Your arms hold no comfort for me.
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 7:26 PM UTC
I am on Mackinac Island,
Lying down on a big white lawn chair
In front of the Grand Hotel.
The faint scent of fudge
Lingers on the air so I can almost taste it,
And my hair is getting constantly blown
By the wind that flows among the
Chairs, grass, and music.
The music comes from the direction of the water,
Where an old style jazz band has
Temporarily set up shop,
Creating gorgeous silhouettes
Against the orange and pink sunset sky.
The purring of the clarinet
Bounces off of me like the waves are
Bouncing on shore,
But even lighter than that,
Even lighter than the
Wings of the seagull trailing overhead.
The clarinet drops in and out of sync
With the waves as the silhouettes start to
Bounce to the music.
A distant bike bell dings,
But it matches so harmoniously
With the music that I don't notice it.
Waves, bike, clarinet.
Waves, bike, clarinet.
A constant cycle interrupted only by
The saxophone and drums occasionally.
Waves, bike, clarinet.
The sun is set.
Silhouettes turn to shadows.
Waves, bike, clarinet.
Waves, bike.
Waves.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 2:44 PM UTC
I went on my bike following the red thread.
Just like every other day, the one thing I ever had.
And so I went and the water next to me got so wavy.
And so dark, darker than darkest blue navy.
It won't cover me here cause there's no burning suffering.
When the red thread is covering my skin.
I can just keep on cycling.
Always singing.
About how I won't be ok.
It's not alright and it can never be fine.
Still this moment is always mine following the red line.
I went on my bike cycling and singing.
That is always ok.
So the burning will finally stop stinging.
Like every single day.
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 4:41 AM UTC
took his bike to the end of the street and disappeared.
he was laughing.
maybe today, just find a way
to bell the bones of magnificent fun.
she thought he was funny. he
took to the day like a wild oat.
took a bullet to the chest, still had long to go.
that old bless of a naked always-stretching lung
[can we account for nuance?]
took. took. took.
holocene compounded, brain aneurism expounded.
he knew the city suffered, city slumbered, never, not ever.
your number? he asked her.
or about some kind of snake wrapped around the heart.
war chest, drum the chest, bone or breast.
twas rhythm, not explosion.
rhythm/blast.
city/socks/electronics.
the humdrum conundrum of *** thumbs and time.
we are surrounded yet alone.
****** yet liquid.
remember the lung?
city/shoes/blood.
he thought she was funny.
stoop, stop to think about a text…
send.
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 7:07 PM UTC
Far beyond the gable ends of dark suburban streets
Riding past the furthest flats where paths give way to fields
Where giant cranes with groaning frames are elevators into space
Looming over dark estates, unoccupied and halfway built
A regiment of vacant digs
Set out just like theatre props; a sort of play not yet begun
The porches laid with welcome rugs for when the future tenants come
And when they take up residence and get their keys and pay their rent
They'll surely never think of me as I have thought of them
The countless nights I've seen to spend, exploring every lamplit bend
Or how I'd trekked those distant places, before they'd laid the first foundations
Beyond the reach of tired feet, where fauns or fairies surely meet
The dark and curing plains are real and stretch for starry miles around
The rustle and din of windblown things, the rush of moonlit clouds
And soon from now when strangers come and pick the perfect house to live
And make it theirs and settle in and pick a room to put the crib
I'll stop the squeak of spinning wheels upon some distant mound or cliff
And moving closer to the lip; Dublin twinkles past the tip
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
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
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 11:00 PM UTC
My dad and I would spend sunny afternoons
riding our bicycles
through my suburban neighborhood.
We would ride down my street
until we reached the sidewalk that diverged into two paths
and neither of them were less traveled by
as we always ended up taking both.
The right path leads to the small waterfalls
just past the basketball court
where my brothers and their friends
would play pick-up games.
Riding across the tiny bridges is a moment of brief bliss
as the sounds of the water rushing reaches your ears
and drowns out everything else.
We’d maneuver to the giant lake
filled with brightly colored kois
and serene storks standing out on the rocks.
Following the curve of the water
we would end up in a private neighborhood
where the blacktop is so shiny and smooth
that your wheels glide across the entire street.
And you can go fast
since it’s silent
and no cars come barreling down the road.
Somehow, we’d end up at that beginning sidewalk
and now it’s time to go to the left.
Over here, there’s a small playground
where my dad would chase my siblings and me
and I would hide in the tube of the slide.
We could spend hours there
on our spaceship
trying to outsmart Darth Vader and the dark side.
Just past the park, we’d reach the stretches of green belts
lacing their way through the streets
and the bushes I flew into
when first learning how to ride my bicycle.
We'd take a left after the dip in the sidewalk
ending up back on our street
and deciding that it’s getting late
once the sky turns pink and orange.
We’d end up back at the cookie-cutter house
that I don’t live in anymore
but part of it is still mine.
I wonder if the kitchen is still red
and if the guest bathroom still smells like lemons.
I contemplate knocking
only to remember that there’s a new family living there
making memories in our pool
and playing in the basement.
I smile, hoping that maybe
they will ride the same sidewalks I grew up on.
I paste these memories into a poem
but there is really no need
because remembering the twists and turns
of my old neighborhood
is just like riding a bike.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
As we go on our journey
We Crawl
Walk
Run
Race
Swim
Hike
Bike
Through what we call life
There are things we must do
There are things we must avoid
There are things we must finish
When we arrive here we have no clue
As we get there we will learn
We will
Make Mistakes
Fall in love
Get a job
Lose a job
Find a mate
Learn what it takes
Get older
And then it's over....
Have some fun while doing all of this
Brian Hill - 2019 # 192
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 9:09 AM UTC
I saw him that day
Not when he woke, like
Any other morning, next to
The warm naked body of his girlfriend
Still muzzy with sleep, half open eyes
Searching to see his face, unbeknown
To her for the very last time,
That sweet smile,
Not as he kissed her on the doorstep
She, wearing his T shirt baggy on her small
Frame, hiding slim undulating form,
After a breakfast of toast and Marmite
Which he loved, but she had always hated
The taste could still be detected
On his moist lips,
Not when his bike exploded to life
Fireblade thunder, exhausts spitting
Wrath and fury, the voice of an engine
Wanting to go, go, go, like wind
As though the Devil gave chase
To his helmeted head, full faced
Soon hiding death mask grimace,
Not then, but later,
From a motorway bridge, wondering
Why all the traffic had stopped
Checking for my return journey,
He and the bike lay across the lanes
A little way apart, neither going home,
Next week she’ll move back with her mum.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 6:49 AM UTC
I'm the Toy that never got sold,
Oh God!! I'm the one you had cold ******
I'm the Bike stranded at the signal,
Oh God! I'm the one figuring out how to be rhetorical
I'm Still riding on an empty pillion,
Oh God! Why am I the one u chose to ***** in the billion?
All I ask from you,
Is some Luck and Cue
As Oh God! I'm the (only) one who forgave you :)
I promise I won't blame you
Again for my blues;
Because My dear God! I'm the one who needs you.
I'm the land that has been for long barren,
Oh God! Do remember even I'm one of your Children
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 1:37 PM UTC
The girl i like ...
is beutiful ..
Like a motorbike..
But not Ducati...
She moving softly
Like a motorbike
But not Yamaha .
Neither Harley...
She is more like
British bike.
Triumph ..
I like her sound.
I like her shiny armours..
And ride..???
Ooo...what a ride..
Smooth and silky..
And..what a bike..
God... is beutiful and shiny..
I know
she maybe like the man ..
The rider ..
Her own
Dark ...
Ghost rider..
Maybe ..?
Me.?
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
the asphalt is smooth
the tires of my bike glide
over hot pavement
the sky: inky black
a bright beam cuts through darkness
the cars will see me
a bottle broken
a car window that shattered
either can deflate
shall we keep going
or shall we stop for coffee
giving pedals rest?
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 10:44 PM UTC
We eat and talk, you check your phone
I eat some more
I check my own
We talk and eat and get up to go
You grab your bike
I walk alone
We walk and bike across the street
I wait and you stop
You kiss me
We kiss and talk and go home
I open my phone
You text me
We text and call and text once more
I read the last text
You love me
We go around and around for months
I miss you
You come back
You leave and come back some more
I never leave a text ignored
You use me
We go and kiss and cuddle and chill
I love your energy
And you still
We never ever end we go on and on
I never will forget you swear to god
You have me
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 2:04 AM UTC
It almost feels like summer,
breeze at the dusk, killing mosquitoes.
It feels like
Taking a stroll on National Mall,
On a summer night in front of Lincoln Memorial.
Playing Frisbee riding bike
On the meadow in front of the Capitol.
My summer in the capital
With you, him and her and them and myself alone
It feels like the humidity in the swamp, with jazz playing in the background
It smells like crab cake and french toast, out from the diners I frequent
It looks like the summer sky, cloudless, your eyes
The meadow the ducks, summer dress and birkenstock.
Brunch, breeze and bike, followed by more bike rides along the riverfront.
Sitting on the marble stairs of the Supreme Court
Dipping toes in Reflection Pool
Summer in D.C. oh how I much do I miss you and adore
Summer is a state of mind and so does love
But you never fail to give me the feelings of those above.xxoo
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 5:04 AM UTC
A man’s bike is very much like a loyal dog,
Obedient, fast and often times clumsy
For us men, our bike’s can mean the world to us,
For they take us from A to B, and from Y to Z
Our bike’s can’t survive on their own you know, the past has proven this so
Maintenance is a must, not a maybe,
Just like you wouldn’t leave home without feeding the hound, would you?
We’ve travelled across cities ten-fold, my bike and I,
Beyond mountainous regions and across lakes and rivers
You see, my bike has this energy,
Not like anything I have witnessed before
It surpasses all expectations, and has held together strong through the ages of time
I never gave my bike a name,
And nor will I ever plan to do so
For the bike, you see is part of our physical being,
And has one solid purpose in life
See, It’s just a piece of mechanical assembly
Built for our pleasure in mind
It takes us places where the foot dare not enter,
And where the car wheel would struggle to go
Two wheels, rotating simultaneously at dizzying speeds!
Ah! What a sight to behold
As I take my dear boy by the handle bars, its glistening paintwork shines bright
I make sure it’s sturdy for the ride ahead, my mechanical warhorse
I say to myself under uncertain breath..
“Let’s follow the sunset, or where the rainbow ends its journey”
For our uncertainty leads to great adventure and discovery
And in the end, isn’t life meant to be one big beautiful adventure, anyway?
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 7:34 AM UTC
I've driven automobiles, boats, and bikes
I've got different takes, thoughts, and likes
when she's with me
holding tightly
loving the tandem, my trike
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
My dreams are filled with the rush
the freedom and the road
treading lines ahead of us
adhering too the code
The hum of radial tires
and the feel of your arms
burning with desires
passing fields and farms
It's not the rebel spirit
or the need to be untamed
not what others would permit
I'll never be ashamed
The heavens have no demand
that I will ever heed
as down the track my own command
the road, the wind, and you
fulfilling every
need
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
Legs crossed,
Riding my bike over the curvature of these roads,
Their patterns I've memorized,
The people in each house,
I remember.
I pass by Blue,
The house where A stole my hat
And made me chase him down the street,
Childhood crushes and games of catscratch,
His father called me "Sweetheart" once.
I'm so tired today, I couldn't sleep last night.
I take a breath,
And pass by Red,
The house where B walked his dog daily,
He was getting very old and acted very young,
Talking to him made me smile.
I nearly fall going around a curve, and my shoelace is ripped in the chain.
I take another breath.
I pass by Yellow,
The house where I visited C for new year's night.
It brings regrets and shame, but I hate to show it,
So I sit up straighter and with pride while in view.
I go around a second curve and go down a hill, picking up speed.
I pass a car, the driver and I exchange waving hellos.
I get home, dripping sweat.
I enter White,
The house where I have the most memories,
But that I did not begin in as a baby,
And that I don't think about remembering as much as the others.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC