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Creative Mood Writing on Bicycles & Cycling
Mood writing is evocative of the great classical writers, the masters of yesteryear. In The Mood Book's pages we absorb their craft via rich creative examples. Bicycles are the star of this page, those of gregarious gear shifts and clanking, clogged, crying cogs. Ting ting! They're on the way!
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Written by Angela Abraham in 2024
Creative Writing on the "Iron Horse" - Bicycles of Many Moods
Example One:
As a giggle of spokes and beams, the bicycle traversed the shadow road and bounded up the polka-daisy incline. As a steady steed it momentum-galloped, chain at maximum torque, summing the preceding downhill with its rider’s anticipatory glee. Tyres as black ferris-wheels turned. Its suspension rendered bumps smoother than a merry-go-round horse. Then upon the lit brow, prettiest panorama all around, it absorbed the joy of the inhaling second. Ariah gave it a pat-pat before alighting to dream beneath summer-clothed boughs, ensconcing herself upon a grass cushion, her notebook and pen at the ready.
Example Two:
Anna and her bicycle were at their phlegmatic best as they swooped down the crumbling, grumbling path. You bounce too heavy! You strike too hard! You cumbersome imbecile! You metallic monster! Shoo! Shoo! Of reply, neither Anna nor her steed made one. Impervious were they upon this most joyous day. The happy wheels gaily spun. The arc welded frame remained tank-strong. Its cherry gloss shone in the advancing dayshine. At times she trilled its bell as sparky-percussion to birdsong. At the anticipated fork it bid the curmudgeon track adieu and paid it no more mind.
Example Three:
New-night black was the bicycle, smugly shadow ensconced. Its spokes whispered secrets into a discreet wind. Strain as they might, the words slipped ears grasp, dissipating as easily as an early fog. Tree boughs stooped lower, vainly attempting an eavesdropping. Moles' ears did unplug. Even beetles paused their scurry. Owls, heads askew, puzzled. For all knew the wind was a messenger, a keeper of the code, an encryptor for the fairy folk. And, upon that enchanted thing did ride such a mage, a girl of The Velvet Cloak. Yet should her metal steed be stolen, or otherwise half-inched, a cold dead thing it would be. Magic, you see, is a personal friend, a sense of love from beyond the mortal veil - and this girl was their most treasured one.
Example Four:
Beneath a blushing sky, threading cherry blossom puddles, Anna’s bicycle surrendered to gravity in the advancing dusk. Feet free of the pedals, giggling with childish mirth, homeward she rode. She negotiated turns with balletic poise, her gravitational centre just right. Soon a new night would usher in the stars, the constellation choir of her eclectic dreams. With a lungful of eventide air, cool and fresh, she sang a new song into the breeze and whooped for giddy joy.
Example Five:
The bicycle by gravest twilight lay abandoned on soggy ground, wheels creak-spinning as a weather-vane. A grief of clouds lingered low and black to earth so freshly dug. Derailleur clogged, tyres thorn struck, it wheezed-breathed a dying pulse, flat tyres lined the ground. Wind wailed. Lightning shocked. Yet the rider, she was gone. Footsteps under heavy rain did vanish, all scents likewise the same. He crouched low to its pseudo-living frame, his heart pleading for a miracle, a clue, a murmur from sweet providence.
Bicycles of Bonniest Mood - Bouncy Writing Rolling Easy!
Bicycles of Flat Tyre Mood - Tired, Deflated, Done.
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