The world slims down
To a tunnel of trees
Punctuated by the crackle of leaves
And I leave the cackle of my life behind.
I tackle the root strewn hill
And ponder lightning fast
What it means to be a quitter.
In a rare approach,
My inner voice urges me on
With a triumphant cheering
And I hit the top
Suddenly lighter and
High
With my heartbeat
Galloping and chest heaving
Like a racehorse
My proud voice says,
And I laugh
And ride away
Down the backside.
10 comments:
well aren't you being all poetically sexy today...
The poem was written by a chick, although she probably thinks of herself as a woman.
I got a poem for ya'.
Hickory Dickory Dog
Bloggety Blog Blog Blog
The CCRider de Monte Cristo
Needs to load up his bike-
and a couple of his bros
and come east for a sloggety, slog, slog, slog.
Hey, here's one:
Bumpy bump bump, roots dirt,
You crashed and you ripped your shirt.
Another mechanical?
You're kind of fanatical,
For a sport full of sputter and spurt.
Or hey, how about:
Cruising fat knobbies,
feeling the power.
Too bad I'm crawling
12 miles per hour.
29'er for sale
slow as a snail
never been ridden
without a good bail
I don't like the dirt
and I always get lost
I want to be skinny
just like Kate Moss
Or..
Fuddity, dud, dud, dud
I'm totally scared of the mud
I ride in a straight line
all of the time
and see cows chew their cud, cud, cud-
while my buddy gets air
and darts here to there
through the woods like a
stud, stud, stud.
or something like that.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I've got speed I'd like to keep.
And miles to ride before I sleep.
And miles to ride before I sleep.
Hey Juancho, there's the wife and children again!
Juancho loves the little children. And the wives. He's especially concerned about the wives and their various needs. He's told me many a time, "Listen man, family comes first. You've got the rest of your life to ride that damn bike, but those kids are only young once. And if Momma's not happy, nobody's happy!" Then he winks and laughs in a most understanding way.
He's even scratched, "But what about the kids?" onto his top tube. You'd better believe it's family first under the Big Top.
Someone must hold the line against the tyranny of domestification. Come on CC, you can park the fam at S'quatch's house. There are so many kids over there he has no idea which are his.
They're all his. Metaphorically if not genetically.
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