Cycling in London
The city today is a blanket of fog With sirens out at sea that howl like a dog Fluorescent ghosts pedal watchful and alert Whilst they find a path so downhill they can skirt
Poems
News, Poems
New Viennese appointment for Borracce di poesia
New Viennese appointment for Borracce di poesia. The project returns to the Austrian capital after the experience there last June when they exhibited for the first time outside of Italy thanks to winning the Cycling Visionaries Awards organized by Velo-City 2013: an event of meetings, planning, exchange of ideas between experts and enthusiasts of urban
Poems
The bike in all of it’s finery
Pass the cable through the frame and the front wheel and fix the back one to a post not a tree lock the saddle with a chain of hardened steel Then leave the bike in all of it’s finery
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Sorry mate I didn’t see you!
With lights on my helmet and flashing wheel rims Even my teeth reflect like bright hi-vis things Bike and I lit-up as a flashing tanker And still I’m not seen by that 4-wheeled wanker
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And you think it is me who started this war?
Phone glued to your ear, conversation in full flow You don’t look behind and throw open the door I swerve out of the way with nowhere to go And you think it is me who started this war?
Poems
Do not underestimate the power of a bicycle bell
Like the power contained in a painter’s flick A bike is equipped with a command unique The sound of a bell is a magical trick Clearing paths quickly without having to speak
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I sail my bicycle on through a storm
While I sail my bicycle on through a storm My knuckles are seizing and crack in the cold But I smile as the helmsman which keeps me warm As the rudder, my handlebars, glow like gold.
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Dedicated to the winter cyclists
Winter cyclists need to have a master plan Pedalling round with no feeling in their cheeks As the freezing fog enfolds the traffic jam Surrounding motorists will think “What a freak!”
Poems, Poesie
One day on the motorway cars will be banned
One day on the motorway cars will be banned A pathway of cyclists shoulder-to-shoulder from junction to junction bicycles will span of every age from younger to older.
Poems, Poesie
Like a swimmer I turn my head for a breath
Like a swimmer I turn my head for a breath As between the lanes I am passing through To escape the fumes I move out of my depth However my bike brings a new point of view.
Poems, Poesie
Will anything stop the bike thieves?
When you realise your bicycle’s been nicked Your chest tightens speech slurs like a heart-attack You’d sell your soul to the devil in a tick In order to ensure you get your bike back.
Poems, Poesie
The bicycle is the metaphor of life
The bicycle is the metaphor of life. Whilst on the flat, way down or uphill in strife The question is choosing and changing the gears Which impacts one’s behaviour over the years.
