He Rides Poem by Jerry Pike

Jerry Pike

Harrow, London, England

He Rides



He Rides

He rides,
lawless into the sunset,
top bike, mean jeans,
so low his boxers
become a cummerbund.
His fashion hairstyle,
preened by an angry breeze,
flops across an eight year old grimace.
He spikes words
to his four year old brother,
puncturing his bouncing joy,
before stamping off, via pedal
in those white-sprung victimed shoes,
with the tick that says,
I am spoilt.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bud Art 25 August 2008

I liked this poem. It was understandable, It was specific and evoked a clear image and a certain emotional feel. Thanks

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Jerry Pike

Harrow, London, England
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