Long Motorcycle Poems
Long Motorcycle Poems. Below are the most popular long Motorcycle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Motorcycle poems by poem length and keyword.
One Shoe On
One shoe is on, the other is gone.
Let’s put this majestic jester hat on—
once upon a time,
a black swan.
2018 into 2019,
my inner voice whispered:
There will be a toilet paper apocalypse.
Get your M95 mask.
A rhyme from the land of Wuhan,
a lab leak—
stay six feet apart.
The joke and the joker will laugh.
Thirty-two, maybe thirty-four felonies
for Trump, from the Big Apple.
Israel attacked by Hamas on the seventh of October.
A kidnapping—someone named Nora—
a cheap motorcycle,
and Al Jazeera knows.
I'm no doctor
Three Kings’ Day, desecrated by rioters.
“Ashley, go home.”
A vision of Corey, a firefighter,
falling during national turmoil.
And the voice says:
“The pen is mightier than the sword.
Turn your head and cough.
So, Fight, fight, fight—
That is my Trump card.”
A quake, seven points,
On or near the seventh day of the seventh month
Near ridgecrest California.
The fall of Afghanistan.
Thirteen U.S. dead.
A special forces 'guy'—
Gone.
Roe v. Wade overturned.
States' rights.
We, the people,
Will be held accountable.
Go home, Emily Willis.
Get out of ****.
If I needed help,
I’ll go to St. George,
Not California.
And a few other Ideas
But whatever I'm not Tiresias
Nor a revelator
Or like a prophetess
Just someone who's missing a shoe.
I am a sinner.
Call me the freak.
I don’t care.
I should have copyrighted it.
Said:
Jesus is the Christ,
Joseph Smith is a prophet.
I lost my faith.
Found it again.
So much déjà vu
I thought I’d gone insane.
Anon in the comments calls me a con.
I don’t care.
You might say i have a demon
I don't care.
Foregone in the present.
Twice before,
maybe.
Once, in 2001–2002.
And maybe—
If the high school memory is real—
1996.
A Cold War relic computer,
an Army officer from the West,
and my warning:
“Tolkien’s Two Towers.
Call 911.”
I don’t know if it was real.
Maybe crazy.
Most likely.
I don’t care.
there are days that will test us
there are times that will be challenging
there will be situations that
we will feel overwhelmed
keep your chin up
smile like there's no tomorrow
keep the shiny side up on your motorcycle
laugh and put those blues on hold
we all struggle to find a happy medium
to make ourselves better then before
there are always opportunities
knocking on the door
close this chapter of your life
be optimistic and move on to
the next chapter
make it amazing!!
Encourage Poetry contest
Regina McIntosh
February 3, 2022
so believe in yourself, your spouse,
and your children
in the end they are
your rock, your support, your stability
“Metamorph”
The Invocation of Fire cast,
She imprinted her mark, a
Metamorph holding keys
The Siren,
bare feet, walks
towards
the blue-green mirror Sea
Out of the cave
from the Underworld
following he
A rope around her waist
One leg in Heaven
The other in Hades
Eurydice;
This time he doesn’t
look back,
jute unravels,
She’s free
(LadyLabyrinth/2020)
“Contaminated” / Banks
https://youtu.be/DwZMHkYTvhY
“Half State" / BRMC
https://youtu.be/eejX7kX-mIw
“what was it that crossed my face
with the light from yours
and your glance?
what was it you saw in my face?
the light of your own face,
the fire of your own presence?”
“An empathic metamorph is a creature
perceived to be the "perfect mate"
by changing its persona and behaviour
to meet another being's emotional
requirements and sexual desires.
It achieves this using a subtle form
of telepathy which is more akin to empathy.”
1. Eurydice
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurydice
2. Orpheus
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orpheus
3. Minor god, Aristaeus
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Aristaeus
4. "Orpheus and Eurydice on the Banks of the Styx"
Artist: John Roddam Spencer Stanhope (1829-1908)
5. "Eurydice" by H.D.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51869/eurydice-56d22fe6d049d
6. "Nothing Else" / Julia and Angus Stone, Lyrics
https://genius.com/Angus-and-julia-stone-nothing-else-lyrics
7. "Half State" / BRMC
https://youtu.be/eejX7kX-mIw
Lyrics: "Half State" / BRMC
https://genius.com/Black-rebel-motorcycle-club-half-state-lyrics
My thoughts drift back thro' the fleeting mists of time,
To my youth when life seemed somewhat more sublime.
Memories waft thro' my mind as tho' on gossamer wings,
Recalling uncommon folks, events and very special things!
I'll never forget the taste of Blackjack or Teaberry gum.
Being chosen last for the game and feeling so very glum.
Then we played the game without raging, meddlesome adults.
Kids handled things, albeit, at times with bruising results!
My friends nor I ever owned fancy pedigreed dogs.
We played with Erector Sets, Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs.
A motorcycle sound was made by pasteboard flapping on bicycle spokes.
Eyes smarted from fizz in noses as we sipped our nickel cokes!
Teachers wore suits and ties; ladies wore dresses and high heels.
A bit of sass earned a session with one of the school's wheels!
They didn't abide chewing gum, caps or any other slovenly trait,
But worst of all was facing Mom at home and learning of your fate!
I recall Green Stamps, the Fuller Brush Man and Studebaker cars,
Candy cigarettes, Bit-O-Honey and Powerhouse candy bars.
How wealthy I felt upon receiving an allowance of a dime
Ah! Such simple joys! My! How things have changed over time!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
With the roar of that motorcycle
You got one more ride ahead
An asphalt highway The wind in your hair
A younger man with eyes of an older soul
That gate is waiting for you to round that bend
Hold on tight for a great beginning
Lite by love and heart
You cruise right on in with that purr of those two cylinders
Freedom from pain and freedom from strain
You are on your way Uncle Rich
Heaven's gate wide open like a throttle
Welcoming a kind and gentle man
Who was loved for his toughness
As well as his tenderness
We will miss you down here
Give gramps a great big hug for us all
We love you so god speed to you
Keep on admiring the view
We will make you proud and We will see you again someday soon.
I have no idea, she told me. Better ask Toughie, he will know.
I have never been to a motorcycle rally, there is an excitement glow.
Another guy said the same thing. Better find Toughie, he’s on a bike.
The whole place seemed to know him, but what did he look like?
I figured Toughie was big, wild looking, with at least one tattoo.
I would ask six or eight people about him before I was through.
I hear you are looking for me, a voice yipped from the crowd.
It was a tiny dog, but his voice was extremely proud and loud.
No, I am looking for Toughie, I told him, in a persnickety way.
A bunch of other bikers began laughing; they were merry and gay.
That is Toughie; see his helmet? A club member said to me.
AMA, ask me anything; he is the smartest one you’ll ever see.
I thought AMA was American Motorcycle Association, I said.
They laughed at my idiocy, I’ll remember this until I am dead.
You aren’t from around here, Toughie guessed, going easy on me.
He had all the answers, and was as kind as could be.
I once thought being a period was such a drag.
I'm usually at the end of most sentences, like this one.
How dull is that? You see, a question mark get's a person curious.
And an exclamation point is filled with excitement!
But a period just follows after the end of a statement.
Or so I thought.
One day, I happened to hear something new and amazing.
Sally said to Sam, "I never want to go on a motorcycle with
you ever again, Sam, and I mean it, PERIOD!"
I had never heard the likes of this before!
Sally not only mentioned my name, but she
shouted it out at the top of her lungs!
Then I heard something like this again from Jim Bob to Claire.
"Claire!" he said, "I will never go out on a date with you
again, PERIOD!" The emphasis was on the period.
So, I guess I must be important enough for people to holler
out my name like that.
I feel better now about being a period.
Written on 9/2015
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
Nowhere Man
I haven’t rode a motorcycle since 2011.
Riding through the trees was like heaven.
The last thing on earth that's freedom.
He doesn't need much.
Just a few bucks.
Ride on through with sunglasses.
Just ride until your heart's content.
Believe me, there's nothing like it.
Freedom on a bike.
A cool breeze outside.
My shadow rides beside me.
A lonely man on his bike is free.
Not many understand what it means.
On fire, the motor is always burning.
There is nothing like the open road.
Let all your thoughts go out the window.
Early morning ready to take flight.
Nothing else matters in sight.
Burnt tire tracks on the asphalt.
A beautiful day to ride in the fall.
So many memories so long ago.
Ride freely along the winding road.
Trees hover above as I ride below.
It’s like flying through a tunnel.
Just lean against your bike and grab a smoke.
Just cruse right into tomorrow.
after the dance we opened the doors
dampness surrounded this place maroon drapes
paisley patterns blinded my emotions license plates
of james dean covered the pine paneling only in the back
funny how a pair of levi's could bring about
such lonliness but there was james standing there
leaning up against his motorcycle flickering that cigarette
i had dreamed of life away from a smoked filled room
however i was being forced fed macho manner
by mere bruts tyrants wearing tightly fitted pinky rings
shuffling their feet quickly my only thought was that of
the stingrays sharp shooters how their eyes are morbidly
unseen right before they strike their prey i wouldn't even
speak of away from tropical shirts and the pelicans beak
an yet after the dance we had entered this think tank
of sea urchants mere leaches all reaching for small time
scores the same old crabs in the same old bucket
one by one pulling the one closet to the top back down
to scurry sideways with the bottom feeders night crawlers
here i am again your place their place our place i wondered
if they noticed me at all or was i just a cold curvy bottle
of coke a cola to be placed on a red and white canvas
in front of knitted covered candles or was i just a manikin
leaning against that timeless old seeburg continuing to drag
the needle slowly across the nylon fibers of my favorite record
over and over again like filing my broken nail or fussing over
another run in my stocking who needs stocking why i was simply
this forgotten mermaid among a school of green eyed hungry sharks
but then there was james a mere mirage gazing down route 66 in land
catering to the backside of those levi's oh wait here he comes again
he's going to ask me to dance what will i say oh my feet hurt or just
say no shoes tonight shall we swim out of here my mind tossed to and froe
i just couldn't bare to waste a perfectly good pair of fins don't you know