Motorcycle Poems

Volcano Run part 3 - Escaping the Ashfall

Part three

Once we were home, the bikes secure
we sealed the clubhouse, best we could
waiting for the ash to stop 
but fearing that it never would,

All the TV news was dismal;
all predicting different things,
each with warnings dire and dreadful
of the dangers ashfall brings.

I dug out pairs of coveralls
and painter's masks for us to wear,
and cartons of

Volcano Run part 2 - The Ride Home

At crack of dawn we headed out
before a cock or rooster crowed
and soon we found our asphalt path;
at home again, upon the road.

That 'greasy spoon' was our last stop,
Where we each tended to our ride;
we filled the tires and topped the gas
before we found our way inside.

Once we were seated I looked up
to see the

Volcano Run part 1 - The Ride to the Mountain

We ventured out one summer morn
to meet up with the rising sun,
the trip began at Castle Rock;
we joined the others for the run.

Inside a truck stop restaurant
the club debated where to go,
some wanted south to warmer lands,
the others north to find some snow.

We decided north and south were out;
most choices were too far to roam.
We

Motorcycle

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

Midnight Answer

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

Motorcyclists Terrify Me

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

Beautiful Chrome Heart

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

Motorcycle swap meet

Watching grown men shop like kids in a candy store

motorcycle ride

suns heat is intense 
sweating while riding a
motorcycle

Lucy, I'm home!

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

Man on the Precipice of Eternity

In seventy-eight, my steel-stallion, KZ1000, 
   pride, wind in my hair.
Its Sissy Bar, firm tether, bag secured, 
   my wanderlust's prayer.

Where sun, snow, wind sculpt my journey's theme 
   my odyssey untamed, my spirit free.
No car to claim, just two wheels flight 
   a bond profound, betwixt

the clever Motorcycle Cat

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.

Free-wheeling Through Africa

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

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

Watch Out

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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