Ride it Right

One poem every week (1)

I’m always falling off my bike

Can never seem to ride it right

Doesn’t matter how I sit

I’m always left arse over tit

I can’t forget, when I fell

down a snaking northern hill

My knees were scraped and stuck with grit

Me tooth had struck straight through me lip

My nose was bent, my eyes were black

Self respect had turned it’s back

My thinking raced into the night

Why can’t I bloody ride it right?

My legs are strong! I peddle fast?!

I mind all people when I pass!!

I stay alert, my bike is top

I grip the handles like a knot!

But recently that pavement crack

Feels all comfy on my back

It’s not ideal, a cold wet place

But sunshine seems to find my face

My body loosens in the air

Suspended moment, chosen there -

Accepting what has come to be

Will always break the fall for me