An Orange Bicycle
an orange bicycle
is parked on
the side of
an abandoned
house
it has flat tires
and its
spokes
are eaten
by rust
obviously
nothing depends
much on it
beside it
there are no
white chickens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My White Bicycle
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
Riding all around the street
Four oclock and theyre all asleep
Im not tired and its so late
Moving fast everything looks great.
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
See that man, hes all alone
Looks so happy but hes far from home
Ring my bell, smile at him
Better kick over his garbage bin
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
The rain comes down but I dont care
The wind is blowing in my hair
Seagulls flying in the air
My white bicycle
Lead:
Policeman shouts but I dont see him
Theyre one thing I dont believe in
Find some judge, but its not leavin
Lift both hands, his head in disgrace
Shines no light upon my face
Through the darkness, we still speed
My white bicycle and me
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
(burgess/west)
Getaway music
Copyright 1975 nazareth (dunfermline) ltd
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Dream Flat Tires
It came to pass
Like lightening striking from above
Electric flash
Just like lightening striking from above
Struck by precious love
Precious, precious love
So hopeless and so inspired
Why do you dream flat tires
When you dream flat tires?
You dream flat tires
With a jack and a spare youre there
Trying to get to where love is
Coming in on a wing and a prayer
Trying to get to where love is
cause love is precious love
You said it was precious
When first you felt my fire
Before you dreamed flat tires
You dreamed flat tires
You dream flat tires
Woman she bounce back easy
But a man could break both his legs
Are you telling me that to tease me?
Or just to hear me beg
Please dont go!
Cause I know that you love me
But, when are you going to let love be
Just a vague flirtation
Or extra special company?
cause love is precious love
Everybody knows its precious
When first they feel that fire
Before they dream flat tires
They dream flat tires
They dream flat tires
Woman she bounce back easy
But a man could break both his legs
Do you tell me that to tease me
Or just to hear me beg
Please dont be cold
I know that you love me
But, what are you going to let love do?
(flat tires, love, love is precious, flat tires,
Love, love is precious, flat tires, love,
Love is precious)
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bicycle Poem
do not worry how the bicycle looks
ride it.
do not think how the wheel and its
spokes work
do not attempt to understand its structure
ride it.
do not think how the other people looks at
you with your bicycle
just ride it.
when you are riding it already
just feel the joy of the air that meets your face
the speed by which it takes you
to another destination
just ride it, disembark when you get there
you do not even have to own it and keep it for the rest of your life
when you get old
remember that bicycle that once gave you all the joys of riding
before you die
give it to the young
they shall have their own joys too
riding it
and perhaps they will write a poem about you
or if not
about the bicycle at least
who knows?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Matters Not to the Red Wheelbarrow
The red wheelbarrow doesn’t care
that it is rusty from rain
The chickens, however,
hate the taste
of the rust
So much
depends
on their eggs
poem by Mary Havran
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Social Chickens
i wonder why the
white and red chickens
escape from their
house
tonight they roost upon
the branch of an old
tree
so high that they can
see
above our fence
the road
the red and white chickens
too of my other
neighbor's yard
roosting on the other tree
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Prince Of Orange
Look at these hands
Spokes of the sun God delay you, spray you
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
Brass robinettes
Trumpet and drums for the taking, baking
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
All the food he steals is all right
Far the tall and gentle poplar
Causing fanfare to those listening
Now
Drape round your head
Mischief and secrets in green kelt, all hell
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
Look at these lands (--- --- ---)
Youll get no books for your dinner
Sinner
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Had Flat Tires
A mindbinding that begins,
With an awakening from a dream that ends...
Sends one that has become conscious,
Wondering...
If a message 'was' sent...
Why does it seem to make little sense?
And how important is it,
To seek from those who do not comprehend...
Why anyone would dream,
Something the dreamer does not understand?
'What did you eat before you went to sleep?
Maybe you shouldn't eat it again.
Especially if you ran from it.
And it chased you screaming.
With, as you say...
A pigeon behind the wheel,
Of a tricycle that had four flat tires?
I wish I could help you.
But I don't have dreams like that.
It had flat tires, huh?
Well...'
And 'why' are you looking at my stomach?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Being Insensitive
You said to me 'if' I rode my bicycle,
I may or MAY NOT get a flat tire.
Well...
Mister President,
I 'did' get that flat.
And I'd like to know...
What you intend to do about it?
'I understand the gravity of your concern.
I can either take the bicycle back.
Which this administration purchased,
At no cost to you at all.
Or...
You can fix the flat tire yourself,
Creating a minor inconvenience.
To get back and forth from A to B.
Opposed to hitchhiking,
Or taking your time to walk.
Getting both exercise...
And obtaining a more healthier outlook on life.'
But Mister President,
Don't you think your response is a bit insensitive?
'Perhaps you are right.
I should have been more direct,
And called you an imbecile for your attempts...
To accuse and blame me for your recklessness.
Sit down fool.
Now...
That's being insensitive!
Next comment or question? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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After Thoughts About William
did i tell you that in this life what we see is what we get?
like william's
red wheel
barrow
words are things
and things are words
interchangeable
you see what i see
but what i see need not be what you know
and what you know
need not be seen by me
just like a red
wheel
barrow beside the
white
chickens
it is great
behind the lines is this child's death
eyes closing
forever
you stand by the side of the window
helplessly looking somewhere where you become nothing
but
this speck of dust
falling on that red
wheel
barrow glazed by rain
water beside the white chickens
a thought falling
endlessly on a chasm that sinks deep within you
helplessly, you,
just stand there for in truth we are here just to see how things come and go
and then we go too, like the white chickens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Man's Pride For Safety
while it maybe true
that the red wheelbarrow
does not allow the rain
to drench it in inferiority
but it is the master farmer
that finally decides
whether it should rust
under the rain or not
on the other hand the
wheelbarrow knows that the
master farmer loves
whatever redness it has
even the accumulating rust
the white chickens though
preoccupied with the grains
knew all these glazes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Red And Orange
Ther's a red house,
Inside there's an orange door.
Beside that there's a red carpet,
On top of an orange floor.
There's a red table,
Below an orange ceiling.
Upstairs there's a red bed,
Inside an orange room.
There's a couple of red people sleeping soundly,
Next door two orange ones too.
Outside there's a red truck,
No one knows what to do.
I don't see the proble,
Why don't you leave us all alone.
But now I see the red more clearly,
And I know what's done is done.
And I'll float away with the cloudy smoke,
Before the inevertable happens and I start to choke.
Good bye red house,
So long orange door.
I'm going for a long sleep noe,
Six feet under the floor.
A White House
There is an old abandoned house.
I planted a white rose in it's precious soil.
Clouds begin to rain calmly on the peaceful rose.
Its sparkling roots and stems slowly cover the house.
I returned the next day only to see the white rose turn the house into a big, beautifully white rose.
poem by Roshaun Beasley
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Rust
Rust
Brown.
Cracked,
Chipped.
Burnt,
Orange.
Nothing
Is
Rust,
But
Dust.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens
Last night I dreamed of chickens,
there were chickens everywhere,
they were standing on my stomach,
they were nesting in my hair,
they were pecking at my pillow,
they were hopping on my head,
they were ruffling up their feathers
as they raced about my bed.
They were on the chairs and tables,
they were on the chandeliers,
they were roosting in the corners,
they were clucking in my ears,
there were chickens, chickens, chickens
for as far as I could see...
when I woke today, I noticed
there were eggs on top of me.
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Life Is A Wheel
Life
Is a wheel
The heart, brain,
Lung lever, kidney
The spokes
The blood works
The same way as
The air in the tube
Of the body like tire
A small leak
Can make the tire flat
One broken spoke
Can halt the wheel
The living
Becomes dead
The present
Turns into past
Let the
Wheel of life move
Exercise a bit
Keep the spokes fit
Air full
Live as long as the
Almighty wants
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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This Is The House
This is the house
This is the hill
This is the story - it's a little thing
A lock of hair
An invisible smoke trail
Nothing there but the dust and the rust
Oh/oh/oh everything changes
This is your picture (it's in black and white)
This is the family having a party
There's a crack in the ceiling
And there's an open door
Nothing there but the dust and the rust
Oh/oh/oh everything changes
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Descriptive...
the window is open
beside the garage where the white
pick-up is parked and below it
is the white poodle
sleeping soundly
it is 4: 07 in the afternoon
in my house in Katipunan
where the road is empty where
the trees are still
where the wind is as silent
as the grass
well manicured at the
center of the
yard.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Leli
She does not eat 'fufu',
But they do;
He does not ride a bicycle,
But they do;
And now the pot is calling the kelle black,
For sex and drugs have eaten my people in the land of peace!
This world is being eaten up gradually with negativities,
Oh earth, wind and fire! !
But Leli is here to guide me on;
And like love, peace and care in the sweet land of beauty.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ode to Chickens
An Ode to Chickens
Oh chicken, oh chicken,
With orange little feet,
All white and fluffy,
So good to eat,
Oh chicken, oh chicken,
I will get you so fat,
Then I will kill you,
And eat you at last
poem by Trevor Cummins
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