A View Of A Man Arriving

the wall in this room is made
of glass

overlooking the plaza
where the rains are busy
discarding themselves

like a burden.

soft rain. no noise.
a big, muscular man
arrives

mustached, and
strong arms holding on

to a electric blue
handle of a motorcycle

he holds the key

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little Honda

Go!
Im gonna wake you up early
Cause Im gonna take a ride with you
Were going down to the honda shop
Ill tell you what were gonna do
Put on a ragged sweatshirt
Ill take you anywhere you want me to
First gear (honda honda) its alright (faster faster)
Second gear (little honda honda) I lean right (faster faster)
Third gear (honda honda) hang on tight (faster faster)
Faster its alright
Its not a big motorcycle
Just a groovy little motorbike
Its more fun that a barrel of monkeys
That two wheel bike
Well ride on out of the town
To any place I know you like
First gear (honda honda) its alright (faster faster)
Second gear (little honda honda) I lean right (faster faster)
Third gear (honda honda) hang on tight (faster faster)

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Bike Is Just A Bike

A bike is just a bike
It can take you for a riding hike

A bike is just a bike
With a motorcycle it is a look alike

A bike is just a bike
When you ride it you feel childlike

But there is something I dislike
It is hard to impress and make a good strike
Two wheels and one seat available for hitchhike
Your charming words will have a declined spike
Therefore it is best to leave the bike for the dikes

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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I like blue

I like blue
and my motorbike is that colour
and some of the clothes that I wear.

If I am happy,
my eyes changes colour from grey
to bright blue.

The lavender bushes in our garden,
are rather blue
than purple to me.

When the sun sets behind the hillock
there’s a wonderful scent in the early evening air,
that comes from the blue bushes.

a Blue sky with a hot sun
can do miracles to me
and I cannot get enough of summer,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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At times he is shattered, dumb from the impact of life

He zips his leather jacket
looks life right into the eyes
and when his motorcycle breaks
he feels like putting it alight
but struggles on until it gets life again

but it’s empty in him
and sometimes he is shattered, dumb from the impact of life
as if everything around him looses meaning
and existence is only for the here and now.

When he stops at a traffic light
a street preacher shouts over a bullhorn
about the love of God which is endless,
but he doesn’t see God, just girls looking at him

even one with a baby in her arms
who asks almost inaudible
it he feels like screwing her
when he parks his motorcycle

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Godivas Granddaughter For Friend Denis Joe

Sky Clad she rode her motorbike
around the town at normal speed.
No one had ever seen the like
but all the fellers were agreed.
That she deserved a rousing cheer.
She’d livened up a boring day
They hoped she would again appear
a sight for which they’d gladly pay.
The lady had fulfilled her bet.
None knew her real identity,
the townsfolk talk about it yet.
But it remains a mystery.
Just who she was and why she chose
to ride Sky Clad nobody knows.

20-May-08

http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The First Snow

They spiral down the sky like cotton
So light, dancing and twirling in circles
Creating a cheerful note that spreads
With the winds.The city roads are a maze of
Rutted white interspersed with greyish
Sandy marks of footsteps and hasty
Signatures of motorcycles, bicycles
And cars making their purposeful rides
To all corners of the city. The rail system
Normally running smoothly hits a hitch,
The tracks snow covered needing a shove.
The city suddenly turns out a parade
Of mundane coloured umbrellas,
Leather coats and bags, a monotony made
Less intrusive only by the tasteful choice of
Exotic scarfs folded snugly around
Each neck.The snow falling gently
All over, creating a scene so dear to
An artist who if sufficiently inspired could
Probably turn out his magnum opus to marvel the world!

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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This morning I lock the cold wind out

This morning I lock the cold wind out
with a nice hot leather jacket
that I zip close up to my chin

and on the motorbike
my hands are almost frozen,
but my thoughts are with you.

While I pass a string of cars
I wonder if you are stuck in traffic
or already at work?

It’s as if your eyes are burning into my soul
and constantly you accompany me
in my thoughts
to all the places that I go.

As if I will somewhere leave the road
and you will also get off the bike
and in a coffee shop

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Year 1894

The Year Was 1894
A year I can't ignore.
I saw an image in a dream
it was surreal consciousness stream.
I saw a motorcycle and the blue eyed boy-
I was filled with joy.
Then I started to cry in my gut
something bad had happened
I was distraught.
Dream fades and with tears in my eyes-
I don't know if this is a past life.
But left an impression on me—
will find out if tragedy.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 29,2012

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Riding Changing Pursuit Thoughts

sometimes he rides his thoughts like bicycles
sometimes thoughts like the allure of a whisper
sometimes thoughts like the scent of a candle

sometimes thoughts like the purr of a motorcycle
sometimes thoughts like screaming engine race
sometimes thoughts like thunder lightning flashes

sometimes flash fire thoughts comets igniting the sky
sometimes riding morning breaks punctuates paradise
sometimes morning breaks spread encircle entire earth

poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Carefree Day For Each One Of Us

sunshine falls upon the leaves of
a mango tree

under it is a man wearing blue long sleeves
yellow shorts
twirling the key of his red motorcycle

he is talking to another man with short hair
denim pants, beside a wall with moss

it is a carefree day
it is life that is moving too slowly

to each and every living human being
in this sleepy community

a sparrow hovers and stops over my window
as i take my gaze, my long, long gaze to a faraway horizon.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Year 1894

The Year Was 1894
A year I can't ignore.
I saw an image in a dream
it was surreal consciousness stream.
I saw a motorcycle with blue eyed grown boy-
I was shortly filled with joy.
Then I started to cry deep in my gut
something bad had happened
I was distraught.
Dream fades and with tears in my eyes-
I don't know if this is a past life.
But left an impression on me—
will find out if it is a tragedy.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 29,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Even if my life without you comes to a halt

(for M)

I

Even if my life without you comes to a halt,
even if I see your face in those of other women
I continue with the steps of each day,
while I have got to give you up.
Daisies are flowering; roses open in the garden,
the sun hangs yellow-gold in the cobalt sky;
and when each morning I go to town
I return again back home
and although this separation
makes me feel very much alone
and comes between us with distance
there is still the wind whose fingers play over me
and I am not connected to your humanity anymore
while I try to find my way into the wide world.
Sometimes I drive long distances
when my motorbikes comes to life under me.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Traffic Jam

Traffic has stopped and came to a halt
Vehicles seem to be floating as on basalt
The bass of a car stereo is loudly invading
On road trips the laughter is slowly fading

Demanding passage fire trucks are blaring
Drivers move out of the way grimly staring
Thinking about previous incidences speeding
Taking chances all of a sudden seems misleading

Vivid images of accidents and lots of blood
Disturbs the minds of the waiting like a flood
Thinking about responsibilities and loved ones
Officers on motorcycles passing by with guns

Clouds of smoke ahead make people unsure
To arrive at the destination without a detour
Imagination takes its course in intermission
Giving up people finally turn off their ignition

[...] Read more

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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The 4th of July

I walked out to see the world on the Forth of July

A sleek black bird with bright, round, yellow eyes
Marched outside my front window
Clearly, not a Crow; Crows hop in an aggressive, impressive way
This smaller beauty, maybe a Brewers Blackbird,
Marched with head up and chest out as if to a tune

Over a hill, near the road
A Robin searched the newly cut hay for his breakfast
Trees moved gently in the breeze
The pond waters did not stir
Except when a damsel fly swooped low

No tractors or mowers noised the air
Motorcycles and trucks rested this holiday morning
The early quiet now broken by a raucous Crow
Calling from a tree down by the creek
Answered quickly by another up in the woods

[...] Read more

poem by Marjorie DeBol DeFazio
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Monkey - a prologue to the end of the world

A prologue to the end of the world.

It's the middle of the night
I'm wide awake in my room
Light shinning from the streetlight and not from the moon
Pictures on the wall
Lampshade above my head
Head on my pillow, one leg out of bed
Thinking of her
Thinking of the past
Wonder what she's doing, wonder why our relationship didn't last
Not everything in life is easy
Not everything in life is there to please
Can't say I'm happy
Can't say I'm sad
Want to do more in life
Want to ride my motorbike
The world is ending soon
Where will you be?
Rocket to Mars or back to living in the trees

[...] Read more

poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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This Morning The Rain is Sieving Down

This morning the rain is sieving down
while I drive my motorbike
to town to get a few things
in the shops
and I have to visit the Internet café.

The drops of rain is somewhat blinding
and my leather jacket is nice and hot
and the helmet guards my head,
but my jean is really soaked

and when I stop
it’s a great thunderstorm
with rain pouring down.

People walk with umbrellas
while some
with shopping bags above their heads
run to the nearest shelter
and here and there

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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The sound of Sunday is not holy

Mauro Giuliani’s guitar
Is played

Sonata erotica
I hear it
As I bow down

My head

My right hand
And all five fingers
Supporting
Like five pillars
To this temple
Of an unwashed
Face

Attentive to giuliani’s
Sonata erotica
On a Sunday

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jolly Coppers On Parade

Theres comin down the street
Theyre comin right down the middle
Look how they keep the beat
Why theyre as blue as the ocean
How the sun shines down
How their feet hardly touch the ground
Jolly coppers on parade
Here come the black-and-whites
Here come the motorcycles
Listen to those engines roar
Now theyre doin tricks for the children
Oh, they look so nice
Looks like angels have come down from paradise
Jolly coppers on parade
Oh, mama
Thats the life for me
When Im grown
Thats what Im want to be
Theyre comin down the street
Theyre comin right down the middle

[...] Read more

song performed by Randy Newman
Added by Lucian Velea
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One Of The Survivors

(sung by johnny thunder and chorus)
See johnny thunder sitting on his motorbike
Riding along the highway,
Rock and roll songs from the nineteen-fifties
Buzzing around in his brain.
Johnny thunder hes one of the original bebop generation
And hes got no time for complicated music or too much sophistication.
Hes one of the survivors,
The motorbike riders.
You ought to see johnny thunder riding down the highway
One of the rock and roll survivors,
Twelve bars flowing through his brain.
He digs jerry lee lewis, dion and the belmonts,
And johnny & the hurricanes.
He plays hound dog, oh boy, and great balls of fire
And boppin at the high school hop.
And hes got no time for phonies or posers
cos they dont know how to reel and rock.
And he plays little egypt and ooh poo pah doo,
And he plays poison ivy and blue suede shoes,

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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