Wisps of clouds hang in the valley
Early morning dampness coats the air
As the morning sun dances in the trees
Barely above the skyline, greeting the day
Soothing rumble of an engine across the road
As the rider weaves among the curves, the
Land of rivers and Ozark Mountains
Shows its natural state of beauty
her wheels keep turning
every spoke glistens with sun
the road her calling
Breeze in the helmet
slight lift off leather seat
hang on tight to grips
I rode my first rice burner bike
beyond the wild blue yonder
going solo the only way to go
on a red 50cc Honda
as being part of a bike brotherhood
was never in my repertoire
and moving on in Hawaii
my next was a 650 Yamaha
my last tho' fairly fast
in fact still quite nifty
on the hills of San Francisco
was a black Suzuki 550
if a motorcycle means personal freedom
of the road stretching out ahead
why do so many feel the need
to ride in packs instead?
My back to the warm wild wind
Onyx helmet on my head
Trees street mountains blend
On a cloud the sun is red
Riding with my Harley crew
Carolina is our destination
Yes where the sky is blue
Cardinal song a celebration
Like them on we fly too
Engines roar as we soar
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
Motorcyclists terrify me
I fear they will fly off the road
Who will stop to help?
Will we all keep whizzing by?
Every motorcyclist is someone’s baby
Someone’s grandchild, someone’s love
On the interstate where no one is careful, I cringe.
Terrified the rider is going to be maimed or killed
I say a prayer when I see a motorcyclist heading my way.
I try never to pass him or her.
Hoping not to see them again
Lying next to the road or worse.
Midnight rides—his pulse aligns with the thunder beneath him
fingers tracing her curves polishing fire into steel.
Wind against his skin she sings beneath him once more
Saturday mornings spent bathing her shine in devotion
One last glance—wait for me—before stepping inside
his grip firm not on the world but the rhythm of her frame.
The highway fades yet she alone knows the way home
rain or shine she waits unwavering at his door
Twilight drapes them in gold two shadows stretching as one
beautiful chrome heart racing—her name dissolving into the wind.
Watching grown men shop like kids in a candy store
suns heat is intense
sweating while riding a
motorcycle
Her name is, Lucy
Her twin is Ricky
He is green with Envy
Because I’ve left him behind
There’s no ‘splainin’ to do
Nothing more to pursue
I just simply knew
All I could do was sigh
She purrs like a kitten
I was totally smitten
When my eyes
First upon her
Did lie
My thoughts preoccupied
By my diamond in the sky
Our twin stars aligned
Hers and mine
This union well-timed
We’ll ride the highlands and the low
Oh the places we’ll go
The curves and the bends
Wherever life sends
Us
To venture with flair and gusto
Together as one
At once I’m undone
I love Lucy
No more to see
Or say
On a road trip to Des Moines he bought a sidecar with wheels.
Filled it with cheese and peanut butter, mice favorite meals.
The mice had a heyday, jumping aboard, eating their fill, having fun.
Too fat to run off, they sat there, while he ate gobbled them up one by one.
Just climb onto the back of my Harley
And we shall ride to the songs of Bob Marley,
In no time at all
We'll be in Senegal,
Though I might stop for lunch in Kigali.
Those Bikes
See the goth heavy metal custom motorcycle
Ride past with a long haired rider
Dressed how they should be dressed
Black jeans t shirt denim leather
Low rider chopper as it should be
With twin coffin saddle bags
What a ride to the other side
Give him Devil fingers\M/!
Then there was a classic looking bike
Parked up alone
And I saw two racing bikes
One with a fairing the other naked
Heard his engine as he passed
A man asked me on the bridge
Where am I going?
Planet Mars on a custom bike
With my chick and loud tunes
my internal voice yelled “watch out!
He is going to pull out in front of you!”
I slowed down for a motorcyclist.
A mother’s son
A brother
a cousin
a grandmother’s joy
who pulled out in front of my car
missing my hood by six feet
I have no idea if he saw me or my car
but I saw him
the boy I saved
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