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#OpenLinkNight, @dVersePoets, Brian Miller, Contemporary American Poetry, dVerse - poets pub, Innocence, Modern American Poetry, Poetry
Some day, when I’m old enough to ride
my bike without training wheels again,
risking the blood of the scrape,
I hope to become accessible to readers of humanity.
It may all turn out to be quite a challenge, loosing
then growing all those teeth back again
for the taste of raw green fruit in my mouth.
Or not.
I may yet respect the tree
and not surrender to the vices and the verses of its boughs,
avoiding shade that isn’t shade in winter.
Or I may learn what wasn’t done before
and plant right down in our family grounds
seeds of those forever gone.
I’d water them carefully right
when the sun is just about to go
to quench their thirst.
Won’t care for a single color beyond the maple
ruffled by wind. (That will just be music for remembering.)
I’ll grab my knees close to the chin
right under the sheets
and think of all of you – gone – ‘cause
I’ll be old enough to ride my bike without training wheels again,
your hand just inches from the seat.
**************
For OpenlinkNight at @dVersePoetsPub, where Brian Miller has shared some beautiful thoughts tonight—sad moments—sincere feelings for those who have gone. Thank you, Brian.
Sea-Camel 
man, some heavy feelings in this one…particularly there in the end…the hand on the bike as you learn to ride…whoever it was gave you freedom in learning to ride…and having lost them is hard…ride on man…ride on…smiles.
Thanks, Brian. It certainly is for all of those who gave us freedom.
I may yet respect the tree
and not surrender to the vices and the verses of its boughs,
avoiding shade that isn’t shade in winter.
Love that stanza! I like contrast of maturity and childhood. Beautiful work!
Thank you for reading, Apryl. Glad you enjoyed it. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with sentiment. Best to let it go.
thats a great image and emotion to explore and render at the centre of your poem:
learning to ride a bike and that feeling of being released or releasing is small on the surface but actually a massive move and one we can all relate to, one way or another. 🙂 the hand still close by . . . nice one!
Yes, it’s an attempt at releasing feeling—though this is not a new poem, by the way. I like exploring feeling and the “idea” of feeling and how best to trsnsmiti sincerely. It’s a great challenge; I usually fall short! Thanks so much for reading.
I really liked this, how it made me feel, which for me is what matters most… very well written and kind of magical…
No matter the contrivances we employ—style, language, concept, imagery—poetry is after all one of the last repositories for feeling and sentiment. Not sentimentality. We don’t always succeed, though we ought to be sincere in the try.
oh heck that last stanza with the hand just inches from the seat…the hand that gave security…heavy emotions in this chaty…a felt write
Thank you, Claudia. Life’s always teetering on the brink of security….
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Wow, this poem gives me chills. It is depthful and heartfelt and filled with caring. I love the premise of being old enough someday to write your bike without training wheels again. Bravo!
Thank you so much for stopping by, Mary, and for the kind words.
I enjoyed this, and I do see we are working the same trope–coincidentally, I just finished another poem about youth and loss, though yours is a much more mystical and ambiguous one, in that good way that stirs the pot in the head and lets the steam rise full of all its various fragrances, and all the memories and impulses that come with that most powerful sense. I especially like the ending image, the child clutching its knees, the hand on the seat guiding, making life safe to take off into…a poem of worth.
And thanks for your gracious comment at my place, as well.
Yes, we are working on similar themes, I think, so perhaps even at an unconsciously selfish level I am attracted very much by what you are doing with your work. It’s a bit eerie in a way to sense so much in common.
My work—this kind of work, not so much the language stuff—is teetering on sentimentality. I’m obsessed with the ability to show true sentiment without crossing the line into Pollyanna land. I’m failing dismally.
Hi Chaty. Thanks for your visit; I finally have a reliable free connection that’s letting me make my rounds. I was smiling as soon as I read your opening lines–and I liked the closing ones even better. I never rode with training wheels myself; my dad just bought a used purple bike with a banana seat at a garage sale and held onto the back of it while he ran with me down the road until I could pedal fast enough that he had to let go. 🙂
Thank you for stopping by, Julie, and for your kind comment. Glad your sailing trip is going well. What’s more poetic and beautiful than that? Happy Thanksgiving, by the way!