A Boy Named Zach
There was a young boy
Who lived with his dad,
His name was Zach,
He was never sad.
When he wasn't in school
He'd ride his bike
Or swim in the pool
With his buddy Mike.
Fishing with dad was a huge delight,
They'd fish for hours
And return in the night.
Zach was a nice boy,
He would never complain,
The approval from dad
Was his greatest gain.
(our neighbor in Hemet, Ca.)
poem by Debora Soramaki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Super Summer
No more school
I’m always swimming in the pool
This is summer break, doesn’t this sound great?
I smell loads of chorine
The grass is a beautiful bright green
I scream for ice scream
On the beach I fly some kites
Sweet corn, ice pops, and strawberries open up, and take a bite
I sit under the stars at night
Quiet rids on my big blue bike
I love taking hikes
Charvale pool is always filled with little tikes
Always socking up the sun
but watch out for sun burn because it hurts tons
I hate burnt hotdogs on stale buns
I love huge boom fires at the beach
Fishing in funs when we all get one fish each
My hands and face always sticky from the peaches
Extremely hot air
Katie and I make a great summer pair
Pink and blue cotton candy at the fair
Sleeping in super late
When fishing I always run out of bait
Winning my swim races makes me feel great
Listening to my favorite songs
On road trips we spend long hours in the car
Mini put is lots of fun but I never am under par
I live for the summer
But soon it will be all gone and have to go to school and that’s a bummer
This is my super summer
poem by Molly Breadcrumb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirt Bike
Here comes the dirt bike
Beware of the dirt bike
Because I hear theyre coming to our town
Theyve got plans for everyone
And now I hear theyre over their sophomore jinx, so you had better check it out
All hail the dirt bike
Philosopher dirt bike
Silence as we gathered round
We saw the word and were on our way
Now its
Brain washing dirt bike
Ground shaking dirt bike
Mind bending dirt bike
In control
Soul crushing dirt bike
Self propelled dirt bike
You see I never thought Id understand
til that bike took me by the hand
Now I ride
Ride
Ride
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bike Is Just A Bike
A bike is just a bike
It can take you for a riding hike
A bike is just a bike
With a motorcycle it is a look alike
A bike is just a bike
When you ride it you feel childlike
But there is something I dislike
It is hard to impress and make a good strike
Two wheels and one seat available for hitchhike
Your charming words will have a declined spike
Therefore it is best to leave the bike for the dikes
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bike Ride To The Moon
Push me off to start the fun
On a bike ride to the moon
Lots of room for everyone
On a bike ride to the moon
And well bring back cheese for my auntie jane
And some magic moon dust thatll stop the rain
On my poor uncle alfreds head, even though he stays in bed (silly alfred)
Why not bring a pot of tea
On a bike ride to the moon
Angel cake for you and me
On a bike ride to the moon
And well pack a tent case its cold at night
And Ill share your sleeping bag if I might
And might be a positive boon
To protect you from the man in the moon (who happens to be me, look out!)
Racing forward cant look back
On a bike ride to the moon
What did I omit to pack
On a bike ride to the moon?
With the stars all glinting in the shiny chrome
Then I suddenly remembered what I left at home
Now I shant be peddling any higher
cos a sharp sputnik has given me a cosmic flat tyre
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bike Ride To The Moon
Push me off to start the fun
On a bike ride to the moon
Lots of room for everyone
On a bike ride to the moon
And well bring back cheese for my auntie jane
And some magic moon dust thatll stop the rain
On my poor uncle alfreds head, even though he stays in bed (silly alfred)
Why not bring a pot of tea
On a bike ride to the moon
Angel cake for you and me
On a bike ride to the moon
And well pack a tent case its cold at night
And Ill share your sleeping bag if I might
And might be a positive boon
To protect you from the man in the moon (who happens to be me, look out!)
Racing forward cant look back
On a bike ride to the moon
What did I omit to pack
On a bike ride to the moon?
With the stars all glinting in the shiny chrome
Then I suddenly remembered what I left at home
Now I shant be peddling any higher
cos a sharp sputnik has given me a cosmic flat tyre
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hik-Tee-Dik!
THE WAR-CRY OF BILLY AND BUDDY
When two little boys--renowned but for noise--
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!--
May hurt a whole school, and the head it employs,
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
Such loud and hilarious pupils indeed
Need learning--and yet something further they need,
Though fond hearts that love them may sorrow and bleed.
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
O the schoolmarm was cool, and in no wise a fool;
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
And in ruling her ranks it was _her_ rule to _rule_;
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
So when these two pupils conspired, every day,
Some mad piece of mischief, with whoop and hoo-ray,
That hurt yet defied her,--how happy were they!--
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
At the ring of the bell they 'd rush in with a yell--
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
And they'd bang the school-door till the plastering fell,
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
They'd clinch as they came, and pretend not to see
As they knocked her desk over--then, _My!_ and _O-me!_
How awfully sorry they'd both seem to be!
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
This trick seemed so neat and so safe a conceit,--
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!--
They played it three times--though the third they were beat;
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
For the teacher, she righted her desk--raised the lid
And folded and packed away each little kid--
Closed the incident so--yes, and locked it, she did--
Hik-tee-dik! Billy and Buddy!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Bike Ride
Jim's younger sister
Followed you everywhere
and stood watching
as you rode the old car
around the field
or whizzed around
on their motorbike
to the cheers and shouts
from the fence
Monica why don't you
go off and play
Jim said
yes
said Pete
her other brother
go play with your dolls
go take a run and jump
she said
and still stood watching you
her eyes fixed on you
like wasps on a jam jar
I want to watch him ride
she said
and stood with her hands
on her hips
waiting until you stopped
the bike and got off
and wandered over to you
and said
I like the way you ride
like how you sway
and swerve on the bike
and you smiled at her
and took in
her short stature
her dark eyes
her determined expression
and as Pete rode off
on the bike
and Jim stood
on the fence
calling to him
Monica put her hand in yours
and said
wish you were my brother
I know you'd let me ride
the bike or car
and not tease me
or bawl me out
I guess I would
let you ride the bike or car
you said
and sensed
her small hand in yours
her thumb rubbing
against your skin
but seeing
as you're not my brother
she whispered
maybe you could
marry me one day
and we could ride off
into the sunset
like they do in the movies
in Jim's old car
yes sure maybe
you said
knowing inside
that'd be a bridge too far.
poem by Terry Collett
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I saw young men, boys just out of school (Villanelle)
I saw young men, boys just out of school,
working men with university degrees
far too clever to be any anyone’s fool
being called up for war, being tossed into its whirlpool
set on fire and burning like a bunch of trees.
I saw young men, boys just out of school,
who over war did not drool
but hated every moment of it, men with great qualities
far too clever to be anyone’s fool
who’s lives were threaded out like from a spool,
treated like mere sediment, dregs, refuse, like lees.
I saw young men, boys just out of school,
in places flaming hot, icy cold wearing jerseys of wool,
praying, standing in the wilderness on their knees
far too clever to be any anyone’s fool
with pierced bodies draining in bloody pool after bloody pool
becoming the sons of Cain, the devils own employees
and I saw young men, boys just out of school,
far too clever to be any anyone’s fool.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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School Is Cruel
I woke up for school
Wanting to swim in my pool.
Thought I felt like a fool,
Because the air was too cool.
But I had to go to school,
Because it was the rule.
But school is so boring that it makes me drool.
I got there and forgot my writing tool.
At recessI had a Yu-Gi-Oh duel.
I won, but cheated, and felt pretty cruel.
poem by Julia Wright
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In The Swimming Pool In The Park
Your sister called her
the girl in the red beret
and there she was
in the outdoor
swimming pool
in the park
her gran sitting
in the stands knitting
and Janice saw you
and said
Fancy seeing you here
can you swim?
You stood
in the shallow end
of the pool
in your blue trunks
looking at her wet fair hair
clinging to her body
and her eyes bright
in the sun's afternoon light
No not so far
you replied
I can
she said shaking water
from her hair and head
I can swim the length
and back almost
you looked over
at Jimmy in the pool
talking to friends
she touched your hand
and said
I can show you
how to swim
and she smiled
and you felt her hand
on yours and hoped
Jimmy wasn't looking
seeing her touch you
Maybe another time
you said
pulling your hand away
and plunging it
into the water
I've got to go
you said
my friends
are waiting for me
and she looked at you
her eyes now sad
and she said softly
No stay with me
I like it
when you are near me
and she stood there
in her pink swimsuit
her hair sticking
to her face
her eyes watery and blue
and gazing hopefully
(the noise and laughter
from the pool
momentarily shut off)
at seven year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Non Swimming Man Of The Sea
He had his own fishing boat for many years though he never ventured far out to sea
And from fishing he made a good living enough to upkeep his family
He was born and he still lives near the ocean and the ocean holds no fears for him
But to many it may seem a bit strange that he's never learned how to swim.
Though he left school young for to fish with his father he's a bright man and nobody's fool
And his son and daughter live in the big city their children in Primary school
Two years ago his wife she died suddenly they had been married for thirty five years
And though for her his grieving is over thoughts of her still move him to tears.
A year younger than him she felt quite well till a massive heart attack struck her down
And one day he too will go to join her in the grave yard in the sea side Town
He had a wish to be cremated and his ashes spread on the sea shore
But to his wife he must remain true and with her he will lay forever more.
He sold his fishing boat when his wife died his great zest for life with her died
He now lives on the old age pension and from his cottage he can hear the tide
Rage against the rocks on the fore shore the huge waves they rumble and roll
The immortal voice of the ocean is ever soothing to his soul.
Last February he turned seventy and the years have left him gray and slow
Still he finds comfort in his good memories of his better days decades ago
Of his beautiful wife and their children but life part of mortality
And the Reaper is now quietly waiting for the non swimming man of the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Hate Getting Up For School (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I hate waking up for school
Having to get ready at 7 in the morning
Having to eat when my stomach is upset
Having to get ready when I don’t want to go
Having to be quiet so I don’t wake anyone
Having to ride my bike in the cold
Having to sign in for school
Having to try and get through endless days
I’m sick of this and yet
Nothing I can do though
Getting up when there’s no sun
Having to wake early and get
My coat and gloves for weather worthy of snow
School however, has won.
poem by Mason Ream
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The bike must go - a song
Got to keep the engine running - My soul's on fire
Like to see my baby - my one desire
Can't help this feeling it's hard to explain
It hurts my heart it gives me pain
She says
The bike must go
No no no no no
The bike must go
Riding through the city streets, with my leathers on
Looking cool in black as the day is long
I can't quite understand it but my baby's wrong
Plugged into her Ipod and listening to her song
She says
The bike must go
No no no no no
The bike must go.
She's driving me crazy with her stance
And I'm sure she's taking me for a dance
When she says I hate it - it's like doing time
Then she looks at me and says
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go.
There's no way around it, can't persuade her n-o more,
it'll be a pity but what can I do?
Sooner or later she's got to see
The bike's for cruising with her and me
And she says:
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go
How can she be so cruel when I love her so
I tried ever thing to please her that I know
Got to keep my baby on the wild side
And she looks into my eyes and says
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go
I love my baby like a dog chewing a bone
I called her this morning on the telephone,
There's no way around it
I tried my best
There's nothing more to say except
The bike must go
The bike must go
Oh no no no no
The bike must go.
*I turned this poem into a song which you can listen to on Youtube or google. Just type 'the bike must go' Enjoy.
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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When I Was A Young Boy
All right, hey!!
Cmon!!
Yeah!!
We gonna make you loose control!!
We gonna make you loose control!!
We gonna make you, we gonna make you,
We gonna make you loose control!!
When I was a young boy I used to chat on the mike.
When I was a young boy I used to chat on the mike,
til somebody told me this aint gonna be allright.
When I was a young boy I used to chat on the mike.
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
Yeah!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
Yeah!!
We gonna make you loose control!!
We gonna make you loose control!!
We gonna make you, we gonna make you,
We gonna make you loose control!!
When I was a young boy I used to chat on the mike.
When I was a young boy I used to chat on the mike,
til somebody told me this aint gonna be allright.
When I was a young boy I used to chat on the mike.
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
You got the feeling, I got the feeling!!
Yeah!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
Give it up right now!!!
Ride on, ride on!!!
We make you loose con, we make you loose con,
We make you loose controool!!
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ....
song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Learning
a little brown boy
perhaps aged three
is learning
how to ride his
bike
the father bought
a bike
taller than the boy
but the boy
has passion
breaks his bones
suffers the bruises
just to learn
this new skill
he rides on top of the
bike unable to reach
the brake
and he laughs at all this
not seeking
any help.
there he falls again
on the ground.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bike Ride
Like a vine him entwined,
While the bike rushed.
More speed; tighter hugged:
A ride ecstatic.
The bike roared and jolted
With the thrill never experienced.
Small pits on the road did
Jerk them with the bike.
Rain water in pits the bike
Beautifully splashed.
Very risky drive,
But speed reduce both dislike.
The greatest pleasures hid
In the pits of risks.
poem by Fabiyas M V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Horse Riding Boy!
A boy goes on horse riding to school!
He doesn’t like cycle or bike or vehicle!
His parents work in foreign countries;
They are ready to give him even bike;
He insisted on horse only for his ride!
He has collected points on horse also;
So, he has got horse for going to school.
He spends Rs.150 daily for his horse;
He even participates so on functions
And he earns considerable amount too!
His aim is to become a race horse jockey!
He learns a lot by doing from now on.
His aim is not to become a book worm;
His vision, idea and action is to achieve
Unlike other boys of his age in school!
Music, arts, games and creativity make
One great after education as it is sure!
A horse riding boy is an inspiration indeed
For kids to develop talent and rise high!
Education is just basic alphabetical letters;
But new creativity only makes one great!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Two Riders On A Pavement
On the pavement to finite end
We ride two two-wheelers.
We, a young boy on a cycle and I on a bike.
A ride of the kind.
His muscles are strong and he cycles fast
Even as I observe his face blushing.
I let him go first, next I accelerate my machine.
The boy loses for a while..
I smile for a while like a winner
My machine is my pride I feel for a moment.
As I look back, I see the boy coming close
But another thought strikes me down.
I wait for a while and soon he overtakes me.
Let him go first ever.
I begin to recollect my teen age feats
When I too had strong and young muscles like his.
On the pavement to this finite end
Why should I ride my machine for a win?
The triumph of the machine is just stupid.
I salute you, my dear young cyclist.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Fishing
I went fishing, for you
Well more net dipping
Not wanting to upset the balance of nature
I clumsily caught you, fishing.....
Gently I placed you in my ice cream tub
I fed you with images, words and honesty
You ate eagerly, it appeared to please
I studied what I could see and tried to learn it by heart
I put the tub in the water
As I had been taught at home
So you could swim away freely and unharmed
I watched you swim
but by surprise, you swam back
And whilst I smiled the deepest your wish to return
I did not want to tame you all the same
You are not mine to keep
You belong in wider waters
But my ice-cream tub sits below the surface
Dear friend, if you are curious, swim by when ever
I may just, by coincidence walk past and peer in.
poem by Stevie Taite
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Fishing Hole
Some place quiet
peaceful
Preferably
I would like to
Walk
Or maybe
Ride a bike there
If I have to drive
I think too many people might know about it
It has already become too popular
Its purpose
The reason I would have went there
has already been defeated
I'm not trying to give an impression of exclusivity
Sometimes
I just want to be alone
In a place where
I can take a book
Read for hours
I can take a pen and note book
Maybe my laptop
Write for days
I'd bring my headphones
Or
Listen to nature's symphony
A radio would be too much
Too loud
Not something I would want to carry
I won't do what I did to my last one
One became two
Two became a few
A few
For me
Became too many
I won't tell anyone
Ill just leave a note,
Gone fishing
Be back
Sometime between
Now and Then
©Christopher F. Brown 2012
Technorati Tags: Fishing Hole, poetry, Christopher F. Brown, cfbrown.com
poem by Christopher Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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