Best Biker Poems
You ride through shadows, chasing dawn,
But you never saw the storm you spawned.
I’m not the girl you left behind--
I walk the dark with purpose, spine.
Your wheels may spin on borrowed fate,
But I was born to navigate.
I don't chase ghosts or beg for grace;
I set my fire and claim my place.
The night knows me--I wear its name,
Not weeping soft, but burning flame.
No chains to break, no debt to pay--
I forged my freedom, kept the way.
So ride, lone wolf, your distant mile.
I walk in boots, not in denial.
You had your shot, your smoke, your song.
But I’ve been midnight all along.
Authors Notes: poetic response to Midnight Rider by The Allman Brothers Band
I didn’t know what I would feel about Doug Gay,
But I looked for a motorbike outside the church,
To reinforce his black biker jacket and sociology,
Which superseded church goers and that bunch.
I made it one of the first things I did in Glasgow,
To spy on the sanity crutches of its gem leaders,
Of the contemporary church the ancient throw,
To understand my place in society, had readers’.
I actually managed to have a short conversation,
With him, where I did inquire about monasteries,
And he told me that there was an abby, fixation,
Which he attended often for all his quandaries.
I felt that Doug Gay thought that this discourse,
Was important for what direction I took for sense,
And I knew he wished to replace choice, of course,
For serendipity, onto which god could map, hence.
It was an ephemeral chat, but I kept the dalliance,
And I felt efflorescence from my litre against religion,
Because I’d confirmed that Doug’s bold defiance,
Of the traditional church was fuelled by abbey liaison.
He related the bucolic abbey to Christian theology,
Saying that the Glasgow Christian scene was demesne,
And was a harbinger to the students was cosmology,
By relegating the church’s Jesus to erstwhile, totally.
He said that his god or Jesus had petrichor sweet,
Unlike the nauseating odour of the church stated,
Giving him propinquity to redolent credence neat,
Because he was historical, within the abbey gated.
I appreciated the Late, Late Service somewhat, bits,
His modern worship service of dance, so rebellious,
And now the Rev Doug Gay diligently and surely sits,
As a Glasgow University lecturer in studies religious.
I have brothers and sisters
Not by blood, by an unspoken bond
Some wear leather some wear lace
We all ride our bikes to and fro
We are a community within a community
We know what one is thinking just by a look
Based on Respect ,mutual trust
We live, love and laugh just like you
We ride the twisted, curvy roads
Wind in our face, no destination
Sound of our engine, appreciating nature
The smell of the grasslands
We're like the indians
With our own reservation
We're like cowboys, who ride a horse
Ours is a steel horse
We protect each other
And will help out anyone
Funds are raised, toys for tots
Breast cancer awarness
A family who just lost a loved one
I'm the sister who saved your daughters life
I'm the brother who protected your son
I'm a mother a father, a daughter a son
A sister a brother, an aunt an uncle
We love the same as you and yours
Our family is bigger, the ties run deep
So next time you see us, remember this
One of us might be the one to save your life
OLD WEATHERED BIKER
Come sit by my side and stories be told
of bikes and good times on open road
Winding our way to destinations desired
under wind, rain and sun all mired
Nature reminding us of its command
take in its grandeur from hills to sand
Conversation with those who are there
living the dream with experiences to share
A beer, a laugh and a wave goodbye
we will meet again when the day is nigh
Old boots now sit with leather in strife
a revealing glimpse to a wilder life
Us replicas as dust gathers round
weathered old men riding wheels to the ground
Once young and full of passionate desire
now happy to reminisce by an open fire
Come sit by my side and I will reveal
life lived unabashed and truly real
Man and his bike forever entwined
till death do part and one left behind
I have always been on the rough side
I even look butch enough to pass for a man when I ride,
I want to be a biker chic and ride a Harley
So I can look bad to the bone when I am really sorry,
You see my dream came true one July when I received a check
It should of been for my kids but I decided it was for me instead,
In 2006 I bought a black Harley perfect for me
I didn't care that I used my kids money because I wanted to be free,
I got paid back by the lord above
When I tried to pull the bike off the truck it fell on my arm and wrapped it like a glove,
You see it was wrong for me to be so selfish
As it turned I never have ridden the bike I thought was so lavish,
I paid a price for what I have done
The lesson here is your kids come first before having fun,
I still have the black bike I always dreamed of
I guess it will stay in the garage until I am forgiven from above.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2006: This was inspired by someone I knew that this really happened to and is very sad.
My Dad came around the other day, on his Harley Davidson, all decked out.
The Trolls all came a running to see: what that load roar could be about.
They immediately became so very impressed, with my biker Dad, no doubt.
But it seems they’d never seen anything like: a shiny hog, that’s fully dressed out.
The bling on my Dad’s leather jacket, matched his helmet, and the bike.
And Man- Oh- Man, you can say… That’s exactly what, they really like!
That shiny hog was a gleaming, and made a special sound you can’t dislike.
Yes, a powerful engine, straight from heaven, had made this the perfect bike.
Now a Troll knows how to really roar… but could they also, tame this ride?
My biker Dad, a mischievous dude, was ready to help their biker souls arise.
He took them to the dealer… to help them find their wheels, so they could fly.
And sure enough, within a week… You could begin to hear their Great War Cries!
Now don’t you dare be frightened, it’s really not so bad, for all of us, you see…
They also found a biker bar, which plays Willie Nelson, by the hour, down the street.
From him they’ve learned to put together fundraisers, and biker run’s for charities.
And singing those, you done me wrong, country songs, are truly their specialty.
And though they love to travel… still, a lot of it’s for the He Manly show.
And the beer, pool, and fun, you know, only add more to the Willy Nelson zone.
Surprisingly, the biker chicks think, that to ride with them, is all the rage.
And the attention The Trolls, do garner lifts their spirits every day.
Thank goodness they still know, to find their way home, before the sun goes down…
When I'm on my bike,leather jacket,shades,I feel cool....
No helmet
I wanna feel free.
Free especially from rule.
Just me and the road.
From here to there.
Sun on my face.
Wind blowing my hair
It's my true self.
So happy.
So mean.
No longer held back.
From a corporate machine.
The loud thunderous noise.
Always keeping my poise.
Sometimes I'm alone.
Sometimes with my boys.
When I'm on my bike,leather jacket,shades,I feel cool.
went is cold
they get more bold
in there suite tights
the bike at night
there plan stand
thyer up hill hiker
tthoses
WINTER BIKERS
Occasionally I visit my brother and we talk upon his porch.
We were always so very different, of that you can be sure.
He was always the smartest of us and we choose two different lives.
I became a chemist while he worked on Chryslers Assembly line.
After 35 years of working he retired with full glorious benefits…
After 30 years in a corporation I lost my job and the retirement went with it.
He bought a Harley while I looked for a job at the computer where I sit.
See… I told you he was smarter… but we were different, just a bit…
I was always very conservative, but actually he was in many ways, too.
But his life was different… as I stayed at home… he went to biker bars.
He listened to their bands and music while sipping on a beer…
While I watched movies at home while I sipped a soda I held dear.
I looked him up on facebook just the other day…
And I found a biker babe nestled there… on his lap to stay.
At first I almost choked on my soda as I set it on it’s coaster stand…
But he looked very happy with absolutely every thing in hand…
Both of us raised good kids… we’re just a little different, you can see…
He ties his long gray hair back… mine I cut and dye with glee.
But while we sit upon his porch swing we never fail to happily talk…
Perhaps we have something in common… amazingly, after all.
I am for all a man to see
Broken, I be
Too old to care
But on a dare
I walk with a limp and a cane
Suffering pain
Deserving all
But standing tall
Accept me for who I am now
Not one to bow
I keep my pride
For the last ride
BIKER
The night sky is made of black tar, and broken glass,
And the moon, if you melt it in a spoon, once was an old hubcap.
So by the light of night, ride the Milky Way’s bright stars
And by day, cruse the endless highway,
Via cheap biker bars, expensive cigars, and blues guitars.
A heart made of gasoline and chrome,
The oily platelets of mother earth, is the only blood in my veins.
The road I roam, together or alone, is my home.
What is around the bend? And is it there still? That is all I ask.
So, fill the haloed hills with wonder. To wander is my task.
Brimstone, flame, and thunder, as I ride down the lane,
My brain, in a padded bucket, to prove that I’m not totally insane.
Picture my skin, some would call it a sin!
But, despite the pain, I like to go against the grain.
Demons, angels, and all beings that have wings,
Or a naked dame, to me they are all the same.
The wind boldly whispers through my hair.
If I listen, it will tell me the truth, but most of the time I don’t care!
There is hell to pay in hog heaven I’m told
So, with Dionysus, I celebrate the mystery of the unnamed tree,
For me, I must set my mind free, and dare to bare my soul.
The ghost in the machine I found is me.
And God, would you believe, I can make more noise than Thee?
In a gator’s abode my bones ride free, no cares to cross my ride
No law to abide, at least none that I saw!
If I were a serpent I would swallow my tail
And into eternity sail.
Where the rubber meets the road
There, forever, would be my abode!
It’s a very busy drug store
with seats along the wall
where folks who wait for refills
sit and sometimes chat
but as I discover you can
leave the store worse off
than when you walk in.
The fellow next to me's
a biker as his attire says,
a red bandana around his head
a black leather jacket with
zippers dashing everywhere.
I’ve never met a biker
but everything is fine until
he presses something in his neck
and says his vocal chords
were harvested by cancer.
I lie and say I understand
but then he adds he's been told
he now has liver cancer.
He’s picking up some meds
he hopes will let him live.
The doctor says six months.
Again I lie and say I understand
but who am I to understand.
I’ve never had cancer.
I tell my wife later, next to
marrying her, the smartest thing
I’ve ever done was quit two packs
a day and vodka straight
no chaser on the weekends.
That was 50 years ago.
She says marrying her was
nowhere near the smartest thing.
Quitting all that stuff was better.
I suspect my biker friend
if he had another chance
at life would join me.
Donal Mahoney
After one too many beers
in the wee hours of the night,
I whizzed around town on my
motorbike, feeling light.
I zoomed into dim sidestreets
and who or what did I meet?
Deep potholes, like drunk hobos,
recklessly crossing the street!
But nastier than potholes,
the pavement was a different case.
It leaped and stood bolt upright
and slammed hard against my face !!
I ride the bike even when it's a little cold
I am now biker trash so I am told
What has changed I just can't see
Has parking my truck really made a change in me
Or is the fact that I like to ride
And that my friend I'll never hide
From the ones that can't understand
How that throttle feels in my hand
Yet it's still the same man as before
That now you have some need to ignore
Last week when you were broke
I didn't laugh or at you poke
Instead I held out my hand
Helping you as much as I can
When you once had no food to eat
Who put that sack of groceries at your feet
The that time your kids got really sick
My phone seemed to ring awfully quick
At those times you were not afraid
And a friend I thought I had made
But now my face you can only slap
Because I have a leather jacket and some chaps
Go ahead and judge me if you must
And I really don't need your trust
I have shown what I can and will do
In your time of need I was there for you
Now that you've seen me ride
Have I some how hurt your pride?
Now your friendship may be missed
But don't dial my number I must insist
Because in my truck or on my bike
I am still the man that for 5 years you did like
Maybe the stories are really true
Everyone is trash unless they live like you!
An Uncle Charlie Original
As I get older I’m taking a liking
To relive my youth and go motor biking
To pull back the throttle and kick down the gear
And tear up the highway, just like yesteryear
My hair flowing free as I ride without care
My wife put me straight, ‘You ain’t got any hair.’
I told her there’s one thing that time never steals
The rush that a man only feels on two wheels
And out on the road in all my old leathers
My gas driven steed shall vanquish all weathers
I’ll ride and I’ll ride till my legs are like jelly
She said that those leathers won’t cover that belly
Give me dirt on my face and flies in my teeth
Akin to a cow-herder out driving beef
The pounding of pistons driving me on
The joy of not knowing where to or where from
She said okay go be a speeding banshee
But don’t go too far in case you need to pee
I had to relent there’ll be no pennies spent
I can’t blame the wife, her thoughts were well meant
Don’t wanna get caught short in skin hugging leathers
There’s must be more ways to escape boredom’s tethers
And so this is me, not wild and not free
Just a wannabe biker writing bike poetry