Ode to the Bike

by muffin

My purple bike, you inspire me to write.
I love the way you freewheel, wait and climb,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the tall past times.

Let me compare you to a dark crowbar?
You are more benchmark, banal and heavy.
Large storms whip the twiglets of October,
And autumntime has the noble tevye.

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your favorite brakes, wheels and lights.
Thinking of your royal wheels fills my days.
My love for you is the elegant mites.

Now I must away with a simple heart,
Remember my stark words whilst we’re apart.


Thanks to Datamuse, whose word engine was used to complete the poem.Created on 15th October 2019.

Auto Praise for Ode to the Bike

“Never have I felt so moved by a purple bike. Thank you muffin!” – The Daily Tale”

Look, you might think ‘mites’ is a good rhyme for ‘lights’, but frankly I couldn’t make head nor tale of what you were trying to say.” – Enid Kibbler

“The author is so talented that I really feel the love for the object of the poem’s favorite brakes, wheels and lights.” – Hit the Spoof

“The iambic pentameter almost works!” – Zob Gloop

“Not even Shakespeare himself would be bold enough to use a simile like ‘a dark crowbar’ – wow!” – Betty Borison

This sonnet was generated by my computer as an exercise to improve my verse writing skills. I am not sure if it succeeded!

Two years ago I had an operation for lung cancer in the middle of winter, and I was well looked after. I wrote this poem of thanks to all concerned, which is appropriate for the Thanksgiving weekend.

The time has come to offer thanks,
To those who in their serried ranks
Supported us in many ways
During those past thirty days.
The surgeon who despite the snow
Found another way to go
Through the blizzard that had led
Me to be prepared in bed
The nurses who despite the murk
Found their way through snow to work
There’s lots of others I could list
Including the anaesthetist.
So many working night and day
To ease in bed my post op stay.
Then others came from near and far
To help out me and their mama
From Ottawa through snow and water
Came in sequence every daughter
Neighbours, Unitarians, Kootz
And others came in winter boots
Gathered round to give support
Or offer gifts that they had brought
Wine, balloons and cards and chocs
And even once a pair of socks
Muffins, salads, soup and more
Were delivered to our door
I offer thanks to everyone
For all the kind things they have done
And please don’t think of me as rotten
If you are one I have forgotten

                        .

I might have been a cruise ship that sailed the oceans blue
Filled with happy passengers, and a steadfast crew
Traveling to ports of call in distant lands
But I am in a dinghy, an inflated rubber dinghy
Propelled by a paddle in my own two hands

It might have been a tanker that traveled to refineries
Maybe not as beautiful as an ocean liner is
But vital to the keeping of our cars on the road
But I am in a dinghy, an inflated rubber dinghy
Carrying successfully a rather lighter load

It might have been a sailboat, gliding through the water
Wind blown gusts on my starboard quarter
Filling and billowing my nice white sails
But I am in a dinghy, an inflated rubber dinghy
Emptying the leakage with plastic pails

It might have been a battleship, a corvette or a cruiser
Facing up to battle to be the winner or the loser
Honing up its gunnery preparing for the worst
But I am in a dinghy, an inflated rubber dinghy
Checking the inflation lest the boat should burst

Poised in a high chair,
With air of anxiety
Toddler in Pink
Considers society.

Picture of innocence,
Seeing no dangers,
Toddler in Pink
Contemplates strangers.

Soggy, cold French fry,
On which ketchup lingers
Toddler in Pink
Grasps in her fingers.

Hers is the future,
With problems far ranging,
But Toddler in Pink
Needs her diaper changing.

Envoi
Not just for the moment
We have to think
Of protecting the climate
For the toddler in Pink

For those who like to wander, to walk or run or ride
There are maps around the city they can use as guide
They show the routes where trains of yore ran along on rails
That now are saved for people’s use ,the city’s walking trails
From Lincoln out past Silverwood they follow the Saint John
Or head along the Nashwaaks to Marysville and on and on
From Nashwaaksis to Douglas, on the hills of park Odell
There is a trail to follow, to hurry on or dwell
On both sides of the rivers there’s hiking paths galore
Providing views of countryside and rivers and much more
A chance to watch the wildlife the eagles, geese and ducks
Or even to encounter a doe with fauns or bucks
You can gaze in people’s gardens admire their planned array
Or watch in fall the falling leaves as you go on your way.
If you want to cross the river, I would really like to say
There’s a bridge just for pedestrians, but it is closed today
They’ll spend the winter fixing and when the work is done
We’ll celebrate as users, each and every one.

Road kill or not

Who does not dread that awful thunk
Which means that you have hit a skunk.
Preparing now for weeks of hell
Until the car has lost the smell.
Motorists will gladly brake
To ensure turtles crossings make.
And others carry things to do
For when delayed by caribou
Whose migrations, thousands strong
May go on for rather long.
The UK tunnels under roads
To make it safe for crossing toads
There’s tunnels built on highway 2
To help the moose and deer pass through.
But as a cyclist on the trails
I see where beasty safety fails
In finding squashed pathetic hairs
The tragic end of woolly bears
Please drivers do not be a killer
Of this harmless caterpillar
On its way to safe pupation
To raise another generation.

At least ten years ago my wife and I decided that since neither of us was very keen on doing it, we should have someone come in from time to time to tidy up after us. Because of problems which both of our parents sometimes had with individual cleaners hired directly we decided to go the contractor route. As a result every other Friday we would be visited bu one two or three ladies who would spend an hour or so doing some very specific tasks in accordance with predetermined instructions. This allowed us to maintain the illusion that we were maintaining a clean and tidy home. A month ago we received a phone call telling us that the firm we hired was going out of business at the end of August.
Now we are in a quandary, what should we do. There is another well known household cleaning contractor in town, but so we really need one? On a couple of occasions when one of us has had medical problems, we have sought help from the organisations that provide in house care, the people we have had from them on a short term basis have been very willing to help with the household chores as well, and on a price per hour basis were no more expensive than our contracted cleaners.

In making the naive assumption that most of the household tasks were still done by us anyway preparing the meals, making the beds, doing the laundry have decided to wait a while before rehiring and see what happens if I replace the contractors staff with me. That would give me $79 every two weeks to spend foolishly.

As a house cleaner of considerable years, I first look for tasks that will enable me to see the difference when I complete them, at least that is the theory, but I also need to take into account my wife’s priorities. A classic illustration has recently occurred. For a while I have been bothered by the appearance of the stair carpet, while it was theoretically cleaned every two weeks, the treads seemed to get dirtier and dirtier. Two days ago I removed the carpet from the stairs, took it outside to lay it flat and shampooed it three times to get rid of the embedded grime, you would hardly recognise it when I put it back on the stairs. However my writing was interrupted by my wife saying “What are you going to do about all the yellow bits that came off the carpet and are now beside it on the stairs” This of course demanded immediate attention with brush and mini vacuum cleaner.

In theory I am, or at least once was, a scientist. The linoleum on the upstairs landing which had been underneath the end of the stair carpet, revealed itself as a much lighter colour than the rest of the floor. So the colour of the main floor was not due to fading, but dirt. Trying all the miscellaneous cleaning fluids in the house in turn, I finally settled on a spray can full of bath tub cleanser. Once the froth settled and was rubbed off with a sponge, there was startling improvement in colour. Of course by next week the linoleum may have rotted to destruction from the chemical impact. I have swept floors and washed them with some success, but the whole concept of dusting things is beyond me,, fortunately my wife notices that and deals with it.

It is time for me to stop writing this and to go and use CLR to clean the toilets, a technique I developed over the years when our professional cleaners never did it.

Yesterday, as is my custom for a Thursday, I was out on my bicycle before going to my weekly appointment with the Old Kootz at the Lunar Rogue for lunch. As I was riding up the trail towards the pedestrian overpass, I could see a cluster of people blocking the trail ahead of me. Forced to come to a halt I recognised Justin Trudeau, our ethically challenged Prime Minister in full promise mode, surrounded by the mayor, our local MP, large numbers of camera and microphone wielding media, and a few liberals or persons pausing out of curiosity. As always when you see Prime Ministers out and about, he was discreetly accdompanied by a number of fit looking guys who seemed to have hearing problems, judging by the wires coming out of their ears. The sight took me back some thirty two years.

It was during the planning of the Atlantic Canada Opportunities Agency, there was a meeting of the Atlantic Premiers and the then Prime minister Brian Mulroney in Charlottetown. As a flunkey to Richard Hatfield, the then Premier of New Brunswick, I was present for the occasion, and as I was wearing a new suit, had had a recent hair cut, and was well over six feet tall. I was widely assumed by the Prime Minister’s Mounties to be some sort of security for Hatfield. Brian Mulroney was intending to walk from the hotel where he was staying to the meeting in the Prince Edward Island legislature. I was waitingn for Hatfield outside the building when an individual came up and asked if I knew where my man was, I said yes and he then turned to two old ladies, probably ion their eighties who were standing nearby. He told them that the prime Minister would be coming by shortly and asked if they would like to shake hands with him.

Obviously two dear old ladies would make good video coverage for his “streeter”. Their response put paid to that however, they cried “No *******ing way” and fled at speed.