i used to go for a ride around the park across from my house at 6 every morning...
Water your garden and you'll miss it
The idiot hurtling down the hill,
Trying painfully to reach the summit,
The rollercoaster of the ride.
Rush of blood to the head,
As the night's lack of sleep
comes back to haunt,
Bearing the weight of a thousand thoughts
Three long weeks.
With a posterior accumulation
Prompting immediate action,
Shrinkage operations.
Sleeves pushed up,
Falling down on the third quatrad
Best not to have worn it
And overheat when the sun is in full bloom
You know the houses,
You come to terms with your pattern again
The routine of reaction,
The time to dig deep.
I see you're still stuck in second gear.
You never were an expert on transitions,
But why confuse and complicate
for something unnecessary
When you can chug along your own way
The landmarks are the same,
You still look at the same things.
Breathe where you need to
Rely on the muscles to do the rest.
The fresh air is good for the mind
Aerating the festering spaces
Filling thoughts with new ones
Digesting new material coming to light.
The motive of early-morning arousals
To feel the wind in your hair
And the power beneath your feet,
The sun in your eyes.
Never used to be the case,
But 'tis a half past the hexad,
Summer is creeping its way in,
Sun rising at the crack, the pentad
Pangs of pain upon return,
Pulsating and periodic
Overwhelming the middle tyre
The stomach forcing hard to escape
The heart rate has slowed now
But 'tis not to be,
For in the space of an awakening
Joggers will again walk the road.
We're back on track now,
So tomorrow's another journey,
To reinvent thy name
And cycle closer to the sun.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 438 times
Written on 2006-09-17 at 03:37
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Cycling
Water your garden and you'll miss it
The idiot hurtling down the hill,
Trying painfully to reach the summit,
The rollercoaster of the ride.
Rush of blood to the head,
As the night's lack of sleep
comes back to haunt,
Bearing the weight of a thousand thoughts
Three long weeks.
With a posterior accumulation
Prompting immediate action,
Shrinkage operations.
Sleeves pushed up,
Falling down on the third quatrad
Best not to have worn it
And overheat when the sun is in full bloom
You know the houses,
You come to terms with your pattern again
The routine of reaction,
The time to dig deep.
I see you're still stuck in second gear.
You never were an expert on transitions,
But why confuse and complicate
for something unnecessary
When you can chug along your own way
The landmarks are the same,
You still look at the same things.
Breathe where you need to
Rely on the muscles to do the rest.
The fresh air is good for the mind
Aerating the festering spaces
Filling thoughts with new ones
Digesting new material coming to light.
The motive of early-morning arousals
To feel the wind in your hair
And the power beneath your feet,
The sun in your eyes.
Never used to be the case,
But 'tis a half past the hexad,
Summer is creeping its way in,
Sun rising at the crack, the pentad
Pangs of pain upon return,
Pulsating and periodic
Overwhelming the middle tyre
The stomach forcing hard to escape
The heart rate has slowed now
But 'tis not to be,
For in the space of an awakening
Joggers will again walk the road.
We're back on track now,
So tomorrow's another journey,
To reinvent thy name
And cycle closer to the sun.
Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 438 times
Written on 2006-09-17 at 03:37
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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