Short Motorcycles Poems

Orchestra of motorcycles 
in perfect harmony...

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abrasive noises streaming noisily
motorcycles flabbergast the highway
I hear and pray for their worried mothers...

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harried freeway drive
stress in the morning
stress in the evening
tension in my back
waiting for a crash

race car drivers
stressing me out
motorcycles
sirens flashing

semi trucks
traffic stops
terrified

freeway
tension

car...

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He walked around the showroom
       the cars were shining bright
    He told the nearest salesman
       I do not see a bike

    They thought he meant motorcycles
      instead of brand-new cars
    The little green man got offended
      so he pedaled on back to Mars...

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wedding white worn while riding Harley bike
our love combined by shared seat
sun beaming down on us

motorcycles riding in unison
collecting wine through drive-thru
celebrating two lives













wedding is one of the special events in marriage
Karen Croft...

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(This is a fictional poem)

I asked a motorcycle dealer if I could have one of his Suzuki motorcycles for free.
I cried because he beat the hell out of me.
The next day I asked the dealer if I could have the Suzuki RM 250 for one dollar.
As he beat me violently, he hollered.
Two days later I offered him five bucks and he blew off my wiener with a 44.
I'm not much of a man anymore....

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Fire trucks and building blocks
Puppy poop and muddy shoes
These are the tools of boyhood
Gone too quickly to be of mind

Soon it’s cars and motorcycles
Football, rugby and hockey
Rough and tumble sports
Turn little boys into young men

Moms wonder where their angel went
And who is this man in their kitchen
Young maidens start a new chapter
It begins again with the next generation...

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She sought out the secrets of the sinister circle
    diabolical, dainty dances of death
  where butterflies flutter, motorcycles v-v-r-r-o-o-o-o-o-m
    and reputed regime change plays dumb

  She hurled herself onto the altar of martyr's remains
    chew-'em-up-spit-'em-out sacrificial marks of cain
  her grisly face decomposed ere her family knew
    how she retched at what she was up to...

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Your hair. Your eyes. Your last name.
What else did I get of yours father?
Your temper?
No that's mothers, it's obvious.
Your love of music?
We'll never know.
Your love of motorcycles?
Well I'm not quite there yet.
Your hate of caring for small children?
Yes, yes I got that father.
Did it hurt you to say “give it up”?
Because it hurt me to know
I would do exactly the same.

Am I like you father?
Why yes, yes I am....

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On A Nightmare

She was crying, calling aloud my name!
I heard her here at midnight my son,
You were fast asleep.
Imprisoned in a deep well-like bricks structure
Like Well of Death, stuntmen drive motorcycles and cars
On the wooden walls.

And her spouse, a sick doctor
Is patrolling around outside
Stamping his foot, loud laughing
And whipping in air in anger.

I will have to go, son,
Riding the fiery horse
And fight the brute, and save her!...

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I’ve left it on rock ledges
  in elevators and bars

Taxicabs, backpacks, 
  motorcycles near and far

It’s laid on the Great Wall,
  as I started to walk away

And fell out of the raft
  in Wyoming that day

It flew on the airplane
  after I had gotten off

And spent two days in Key West
  with Fedex as the cost

It’s kept me in touch,
  that’s important I know

But the voice it records 
  into words 
    —much more so

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)...

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