Long Harley Poems
Long Harley Poems. Below are the most popular long Harley by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Harley poems by poem length and keyword.
it was the time to ascend and the elevator door closed with firm resolve
on his many needs and wishes that had pushed his buttons for so long
three wise men had spoken and a triad of Tarot cards had pointed the way
a pitchfork of ambiguous trinity had failed finding the needle in a haystack
horsemen of the apocalypse in his mind had traded their rocking donkeys
for a shiny Harley Davidson with punctured tyres and a hole in the tank
now he was stuck in the enclosure forced to listen to meaningless pan pipes
studied adverts of trade sharing Viagra and courses for meditation and yoga
determined to advance on his hierarchy of needs to the level of self esteem
but the display offered no fourth floor and he quickly went past his target
barred from quick levitation he went down again and attempted the staircase
only to find the door locked with a sign ‘sorry out of order for maintenance’
he bought climbing gear at a DIY store to scale the outside of his building site
carefully read the self-help manual and proceeded on his conquest for change
the windows had not been cleaned for an eternity and he could not look inside
but it was mirror glass cladding in any case and he got a bad case of acrophobia
by now he had received a parking ticket in an underground garage of anxiety
more points on his license reminded him that there was no fast track escape
when his scared gaze fell upon readjustment possibilities and alternative choices
he climbed an oak tree dangled his feet from a branch to look again at his roots
09th September 2020
I was ridin' my black Harley down a dark curving road,
my long tangled blonde hair full of wild wind and highway dirt;
when far off- I see a hotel light and a WELCOME sign.
In the office, a toothless guy in a ripped black t-shirt,
bone-weary I ask him, do you have a room for the night;
welcome to Hotel Hell where you check in but never check out.
I heard howling and saw shadows dancing in the moonlight,
guitars were wailing and weeping and pretty boys were swaying;
someone hands me the BEAST known as weed holding me still.
And soon with those pretty boys, I am dancing and clinging . . .
_______________________
August 3, 2017
Verse/Welcome To Hell
Copyright Protected, ID 926638
Written for the contest, Iconic Songs
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
Inspired by the song - Hotel California, Eagles
We’re here to remember you, Tony McDuff
Though most of us here knew you better as ‘Puff’
You’d take any challenge, no matter how rough
Alas your last struggle was simply too tough
That trusty old Harley you’d ride like the wind
Twas rumoured you’d nicked it from someone you skinned
A crime which upon you could never be pinned
Which upset the cops for you frequently sinned
But though you were rough and was frequently bad
And often described as a bit of a lad
All of us here will be equally sad
As you go to wreak havoc... in hell... with your dad
Two slugs removed by unscrupulous vets
They did what they could but they weren’t taking bets
But your lifetime of wounds without any regrets
Was finally lost to those damned cigarettes
For nobody knew as your voice became gruff
That it wasn’t the weed or the powdery stuff
See you real soon if we’re good-bad enough
So off you go Tony, off you go ‘Puff’
24 June 2019
For Funeral Service contest
Sponsored by Team Poetrysoup
No attempt at presumption... no prize required.
It is the evening I have waited for,
stiletto heels three inches high adorned my feet,
real nylons hung from garters beneath a
skin tight, leather skirt of maraschino cherry-red.
A blouse of white silk, with a cascade of ruffles,
played peek-a-boo with my décolletage.
Outdoors, the rain pounded the asphalt
making the reality of his arrival even more bizarre.
A Harley barrels into the driveway.
Apparently, he thinks
he is Marlon Brando
and I am Stella?
I stand on the porch, a black umbrella
covering my new do, and watch as he
saunters through the puddles on the concrete walk.
The color of the umbrella my only
non-incongruent element in the frame, the scene made.
His smile was like a box of Chiclet's
on his clean shaven face.
He kisses me.
I lick the raindrop
from the tip of his Roman nose
and take hold of his Russian fingers.
He tosses my umbrella on the porch,
throws his black leather jacket over my shoulders,
lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the bike.
The sun breaks through the clouds and the rain stops,
just in time for the neighbors to glare at the sight of my legs
reflecting on the bikes chrome work.
Shake their respective heads
and donate a few wolf whistles.
Howling at the Moon
I stood outside
Between the trees
In a field
On the outside of town
Beneath the lunatic rays
Of the blood-red full moon
The lunatic lights of the moon
Casts a wild primeval glow
On me
The hormonal chemicals are unleashed
The wild beast within
Escapes it chain
And I howl with delight
A werewolf
Free at last
To run amuck
Free of its civilized restrains
Throwing off its clothes
Stripping naked
Running wild
Naked and free
A wild man
Enjoying his freedom
As I sit
Under the lunatic light of the full moon
Of the blood-red lights of the moon
Full of wild passions
The lustful beast stirs again
And starts running and running
Howling at the moon
Riding into the new dawn
On a demented Harley Davis cycle
With two naked babes on his back
Riding into the moon
90 miles per second
At the speed of thought
He disappears into the lunatic light
Of the full moon
And I wake up
Alone,
In my bed
Saying, man, that was quite a night
I better not go there again
The wild beast
Laughs
He has heard that before
And I join him
In howling at the moon
I walk inside to get a bite,
truck stop diner, late at night,
eyes all red, I’m quite a sight
to see.
Take off my old trucker’s hate,
think of the girls waiting out back,
have no interest in getting that
disease.
Sometimes I wish I had a home,
a wife and kids to call my own,
more than voices on a phone
to hear.
But I know that I can’t have them,
urge to move would just kill this man,
some men aren’t mean to be a dad,
I fear.
As so the road takes me,
one day it will break me,
but what else could I be?
Some souls have to roam free.
I step off my fine Harley bike,
my kind of bar to spend the night,
just some fun, don’t need to fight
today.
Familiar visions greet my eyes,
leather-clad women and guns,
a felt pool table where they stand
to play.
Some people will never know
why us vagrants take to the road,
they never feel the urge to go
drifting.
Maybe I’ll never get respect,
but they won’t see where I go next,
See snow-capped Rockies for a stretch,
shining.
And so the bike takes me,
one day it will break me,
but what else could I be?
Some souls have to ride free.
Tramp along this broken trail,
feeling wild, strong and hale,
sunny day, their ain’t no gales
this time.
Hiking to that overlook,
to take back what the office took,
better views than a picture book
this climb.
Some say I play pioneer
when I drag myself up here,
others think I’m bloody weird
to hike.
But I think I would go insane
sitting home with video games,
why imitate when you can range
outside?
And so the trail takes me,
one day it will break me,
but what else could I be?
Some souls have to hike free.
I'm dreamin' of a dry Christmas
just like ones I use to know
where weathermen announce, all use our bypass
where you may go, all clear of night's white snow
I'm a deamin' of a dry Christmas,
just like ones I've used to know,
where tree-tops glisten an children listen
to hear my Harley roar, just for show
I'm dreamin' of a dry Christmas,
where my loved ones expect me, to show,
Home, where my heart is, at our Sunday-Mass, you know...
Ho! Ho!
Packin' gifts like Santa Clause, swiftly as a bike will go
Where treetops, an my Sportster crome glessions
each piston hummin' to, never missin' its tone,
True symphony, as she roams, with clean air without emissions
Tis Christmas, an packin' gear, with my Lady, have gone on home
Ho! Ho! Ho!
Have a Merry Little Christmas
When you wake up in the morning
And it's beautiful outside
You spiffy up your Harley
Because you want to take a ride
Your woman gets excited
Because she wants to get a taste
Of her riding on the back seat
With her arms around your waist
You dress up in your leathers
And your belts, boots, and gloves
And you get ready to go riding
On that awesome thing you love
You buckle up your helmets
And put your feet down on the peddle
Then you cruise on down the highway
On your shiny piece of metal
As you're motoring down the highway
With your hands upon the bars
You get looks from all the people
Who are driving in their cars
After a joy ride through the mountains
You then pull up to your home
And you're thrilled because you've been riding
On your pretty piece of chrome
"Long May You Ride"
Dedicated to my friend DanO
James Dean Bob Marley,
a Valentines Hunter on a Harley,
ties his horse hog down,
enters the house saloon of get "lucky" town,
Offers imbibe after imbibe
as suggestinal ingestinal bribe,
but forget about her tolerance,
she fell asleep on the couch,
out cold as if she'd died.
So romeo with advance
he missed his chance, ouch!
And he with a wine on his hands
and ****happens-stance,
said goodbye to his smooth plans,
said goodbye to romance.
Was also left with his....in his hands.
Since a boy I can remember ;
Many things are now bizarre,
like first time fishing with a doobie,
then having to drive the car.....
Never did catch much fish ;
and our pictures tell you so,
maybe was not our wish;
but let some time pass ya know.....
Wrenching in the cold dark night ,
fixing one car or another ;
knuckles looked like I was in a fight ,
in electric tape or another .....
I owned a Ducati, and a Harley too,
before I was in high school...
just things I had ,
didnt make me cool....
snow machines there were a few ,
most all were 2nd hand ,
but I always made them run real good;
taught that by Dads hands.....
I miss you Pop,
you knew alot ,
so what you didnt read;
most men couldnt keep up with you,
with a Doctorate and degree....