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maggie W Feb 2019
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
love letter to dc, ode to summer
HeWhoExplores Jan 2019
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?
Ray Ross Jul 2018
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.
Ron Gavalik Jul 2018
On the bicycle trail, a middle-aged
woman in spandex biking gear
had her bike flipped upside down.
I dismounted next to her.
“You need a hand?”
She kept her eyes fixed
on her bike wheel. “Why do I need
your help?” Her voice was filled
with contempt. “It’s only a flat.”
I didn’t respond.
Pedaling along the river,
I made the decision
to keep offering assistance.
Someday I’d need it.

-Ron Gavalik
Dig it? Hit my Patreon. Patreon.com/rongavalik
Dejected by the performance
in an administrative test
a guy returning home
couldn't give his best

Perturbed mind
deluged with spike
It was only his reflexes
controlling his bike

A crowd gathered
on the road
grabbed his attention
switching off his thinking mode

He applied brakes
only to know
the real life and the turns
it takes

An office guy
had met an accident
remaining was the trampled car
while the soul had gone far

Filled with mixed feelings
of guilt and fear
sitting on the roadside
he couldn't stop his tear

Gathering himself
he kicked the bike
Mind was dumb
with no more spike

He reached home
and hugged his parents
he had got his answers
and he never laments

In spite of aiming high targets
he now accomplishes his immediate goals
Instead of showing off in the society
he plays his each and every role

For now, life is his only test
and he has to give his best

Today, an engineer near to his village
he writes and writes with courage....
Benedict May 2018
I know you shake and squeak,
I bought you cheap,
Parts of you dropped below,
Down to the road,
So, I slowed,
To rescue your parted pieces.
Then back inside,
With limited tool supply,
I’d scratch my head,
And knot my brow,
As your rusted threads,
Spun round and round,
But I’d make you whole again,
My shaking, squeaking friend,
With you there is no end,
For every time your handles creak,
Any rush of air that peeps
A look through treads run bare,
I’ll carry you home,
With care,
And make you whole again.
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