Saturday, November 12, 2011

Cycles


CYCLES

Grrroom, grrrooom goes some Harley down the street.
Never had a motor; had a playing card in the spokes,
And that sounded neat, like a put-put-put,
And had a siren, oh it was loud and illegal
Probably
But my grandfather found it, bought it, got it
Somewhere
And it was a police bike siren from the 1800s.
Recycled on a Schwinn and it really did squeal.

But that was long ago, back in my childhood.
How the years cycle by like flip cards
In a peepshow nickelodeon.
I can see us as scrawny little urchins
Plopping coins saved from gathering pop bottles
Off the street to recycle at the grocers,
Buying us some creamsicles and fudge pops
Out of a cooler inside an Atlantic gas station.
Or was it Esso then?

A lot of things are gone that’ll never cycle back.
Sinatra sang of cycles
But ol’ Blue Eyes is a long time dead.
The seasons come and seasons go
And we watch the bloom and blossom
And the frosting on the pumpkin
And the falling leaf and snow,
The ever churning changes of the
Same old same old cycles.

Life is like a washer, so much on automatic.
We’re awash in wishes
As we spin our way through time,
Then a rattle and a clatter,
Our cycle out of balance,
Reminds us that our dreams
Have changed from grandiose
To mundane
And now we only recycle memories.


Posting her for The Gooseberry Poetry Picnic Week 13, Childhood Dreams.

8 comments:

Andy said...

Hello.
"Our cycle out of balance,
Reminds us that our dreams
Have changed from grandiose
To mundane
And now we only recycle memories."...poignant yet somewhat bittersweet.
Nicely done.
Thanks for sharing & visiting. I appreciate it.

Imaginary Dreams

zongrik said...

i like the washer analogy a lot it's very true

The Cello Strings said...

wow,
This one is remarkable.

Thanks for sharing.

Marbles in My Pocket said...

This is really good. Nostalgic and deep at the same time. Nice one!

http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/11/13/another-nights-dream-3/

William Leed said...

Recycled memories are so good. I also remember the card on the spokes of the bike. The wonderful imagination of childhood days. Enjoyed your entry.
William

Grace said...

I like the trip down your memory lane. And your last verse is wonderfully written:

"Life is like a washer, so much on automatic.
We’re awash in wishes
As we spin our way through time,
Then a rattle and a clatter,
Our cycle out of balance,
Reminds us that our dreams
Have changed from grandiose
To mundane
And now we only recycle memories."


Nice to meet you ~

The Orange Tree said...

love the idea of recycled memories.

wow, the background music here is lovely.

The Orange Tree said...

love the idea of recycled memories.

wow, the background music here is lovely.