Wednesday, May 17, 2017

403

[internet image]

THE BICYCLE
Two wheels
their spinning magic
and soft whirring

took me to kindergarten one day
the green dots
dotted a white cotton dress

My father rode his bike
in poverty
proud
way back then
THE BICYCLE © gillena cox 2017

Blog hopping today with
Poets United Midweek Motif
~ Bicycles, Tricycles or Unicycles
[Susan says "There are far fewer poems with a cycling motif than  there should be.  Let's fix that!" Susan is prompting today]
This year is the 200th anniversary of the bicycle, introduced in  Germany in 1817.

✿ܓ

Revisit
17 May 2016

22 comments:

  1. Oh! Vivid and compelling, the tone of this poem lingers with me--as does the soft whirr of memory.

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  2. Thank you for dropping in to read mine Susan

    much love...

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  3. Yes, I too feel great nostalgia for cycling, but am still happy to use the safe alternative. It is strange what memories are invoked by bikes.

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    1. Never rode a bike on my own. But that tiny childhood memory of my father taking me to school on his bicycle is vivid even today
      Glad you dropped in Robin

      Much love...

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  4. Your beautiful piece evoked some nostalgia.

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    1. Yes, thank you Khaya. Sometimes I marvel at the images I still carry in my head

      Happy you dropped by

      Much love...

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  5. That last stanza was so deep ..loved this. A wonderful memory.

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    1. Thank you for your appreciation Thotpurge

      Much love...

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  6. Anyone who can ride a bike has nothing to be ashamed of, whether he/she is rich or poor. Bike riding is a grand accomplishment.

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  7. Such a sweet memory of your proud father. Thank you for sharing!

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  8. Two wheels to memories

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  9. A good thing to be proud of I too could picture the smile..

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  10. Beautiful...Oh, the poem lulls me into a feeling of deep contentment!This was so perfect, Gellina!

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    1. Thanks for your appreciation Panchali

      Much love...

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    2. Lovely, Gillena. I am glad you put the sound in.

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  11. Thanks for your appreciation Sara

    much love...

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  12. I like the image of your poor proud father. Bet he was lovely.

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  13. The soft whirring is a wonderful accompaniment to your memories and poem.

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