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Riding English Racer - The Poem ~ by John Jay Anthony Licata ~ Poet ~ Artist ~ Sculptor ~ Troubadour, And Makar to Boot ~

Rode the English Racer /

Down the hills /

On wheels and wings,


Airstream strider /

Head down glider,

Angel on my shoulder,


Pressing faster

Getting older

Missed the rock

Swerved the boulder,


Slipping the eddies

Of time and tide,

Swept down her belly

And banked her thighs

With Elliot Bay beside her,


Pumping legs

Splashed up wet

From puddles

In the small of her back,


And the hum and drone

Of slip cloping tires

Slapping staccato

On cobble street stone,


Near the fountainheads

Of holy waters

And the spindrift

Of epiphanous rain,


Slingshotting man

And bicycle dreams,

Free and untethered

From the weathered lands

Of loss and sorrow,


Into kingdoms of Camelot

Where men sing the songs

Of the promise of tomorrow,


And gaze the Canterbury Bells,

Come the return

Of English Spring,


When clarions of trumpets

Chorus freedom and justice

And the voices of troubadours ring.