Night Runners Competition Counted

we enjoy counting the rats
running around at night,
when we are arriving home
on our faithful motorbike,

usually two or three rats to see,
Kayla and I have a competition
counting first spied rats we see,
who can spot local drain rats first

the biggest rats seen truthfully
are as big as healthy pet cats,
we go look at pets frequently
in BSD once a week we peep,

in at a pet shop when we watch,
a movie in expedition BSD every week
a family movie is a special treat,
our two happy daughters think it so neat

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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A walk in the countryside

What a lovely day for a walk
a nice ramble in the countryside
take in all the lovely scenery
the flowers, the fields, the birds.
What's that over there in the distance?
something Red in colour by that hedge.
I hope it's a Fox they are beautiful,
it hasn't moved so I may get up close.
What a let down it's a traffic cone!
Hope I see something more interesting
than a stupid traffic cone on my walk.
What's that rustling noise?
Could be a Pheasant or a Partridge,
on closer inspection I see the noise
is not from a bird but a bloody crisp packet!
As I walk on I tread in Cow dung, fag packets,
used condoms, and endless empty beer cans.
I've been walking for over an hour now
and along with the cans and the crisp packets
I've seen two Tesco trolleys, a Microwave Oven,

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poem by Kevin Halls
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Valentino

Valentino Valentino Valentino

I hope you like the sound of that. Valentino - that's my name
I'm the cutest duck to roam this side of Bockmer Lane
They say I've got the most handsome face, the prettiest of feet
A waddle to die for and a body that's hard to beat
I don't like motorcycles, planes or boats
Can't cook, sweep, read or tell funny jokes
Wash dishes - but why would any duck want to do that?
And if someone wants to know why, I just say ‘QUACK'
You'll never see me wear ‘Bling'
All of these are definitely not my thing
I'm an Indian runner - of that I am proud
And when I get excited my quacks can be quite loud
I'm King of the pond, a true gentleman of tall stature
I wobble around quacking on things that do not matter -
Except today - St Valentine's day
For the person who brought me here to you may have many faults
- not least his attempts at telling awfully funny jokes
He will always try and make you smile, laugh, feel comfortable, safe and secure

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poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Most Likely, I'm Smitten, but Possibly Not

Which is the greater cause of consternation,
Her or them? The former's come again, and
She is, as she was a week ago, a double blow,
A wit, a beauty. How I love to fence with her,
To thrust, 'I worship Paul Cezanne, ' and
Parry, 'Jasper Johns is good, ' and 'Dylan
Thomas is my man, ' but 'William Carlos
Williams is, as you say, also very fine, ' and
She, tonight, in black completely, short
And slinky knitted dress and nylons and
Stiletto heels. I would not run my motorcycle
Through such complicated curves. Or am I
Reeling due to germs? My stomach's tumbled
Since I rose, and I'm not thinking well, I think,
But I can't return home without her. 'Can
You drive me? ' 'Yes, I can, but I must know
Before we leave. You seem to suffer
Consternation. Is it germs or me? '

poem by Lawrence Beck
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Faces Of Death

Rode a motorbike in the rain
rode it wild and fast
soon as now I shall feel the pain
when I shatter like crystal glass.

I’m so tired I’m so tired
clouds race across the sky.
I saw a man I saw a man
a man about to die.
I’ve lived too long lived too long
too much I’ve seen have I.

As broken he lay dying
alone on an alien shore
the birds all stopped singing
till after, he would breathe no more.

Silence sharp profound
until rain fell like tears,

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Last Day Of Military Leave

I returned early from pass to the camp
at Natal Command in Durban
right opposite the beach,
went in to stow my kit
and on that late weekend afternoon
the camp was almost empty
with only a few guards
and probably skeleton staff running it

and I drove out on my motorbike
in civilian clothes,
parking it near a cinema,
was walking to a restaurant
to have a decent meal
when a bevy of lovely girls
walked right up to me
and offered to buy me a drink or two
as it was clear that I was in the army
as my hair was short and I was young

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poem by Gert Strydom
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From You......

an idea always comes from
all of you, a chat early this morning

the wind outside is cold and the rain has
not subsided it
the road is empty and the leaves scatter
there

jimmy is starting the engine of his motorcycle
his girlfriend met an accident last night

my window is open
since last night and some rain came in but i did not really mind it

i look at myself in the mirror in the bathroom after i have taken my bath
of hot water

my body is another wasted material
my face is like a sinking boat in the water
my eyes like a drowning child

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Silence of Night

The silence I am with
Comforts
Stills
Surrounds
The silence is not real
Full
Constant
Chaotic
The silence is for me
Friendly
Hopeful
Peace
The silence becomes
All
Nothing
Ambiguity

No child to remind me I'm not alone
Little patter of feet to keep me up
Cries for 'mom' are far from this home

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poem by Ruth L. Rivers
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High Dry

Two jumps in a week I bet you think thats pretty clever dont you
Boy.
Flying on your
Motorcycle.
Watching all the ground beneath you
Drop.
Youd kill yourself for recognition.
Kill yourself to
Never
Ever
Stop.
You broke another mirror.youre turning into something you are not.
Drying up in conversation
You will be the one who cannot talk.
All your insides fall to pieces.
You just sit there
Wishing
You
Could
Still

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song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Where the journey of life really goes

My blue honda motorbike
with a full tank of fuel
is broken
and is being repaired
and while I count my money
I see that I have enough,
but for the last journey
of the week
and I wonder how
I am going to be able
to take that ride?

At the bus stop a car guard
is watching cars
and a black woman
that needs five rand for a ticket
and is dressed elegantly
in a red work suit,
gets the money from him
and he doesn’t even know her

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Motorcycle Monks Digging St. Clare

Riding through imaginary valleys of esoteric thought,
She flagged me down on Dharma Avenue
With her long hair blown back by the pleasant breeze of philosophy.
We were twin souls occupying a dream womb
That could never be disturbed by existence;
The flower petals of contentment fell like rain from nirvana’s skies
And the friendship days were beginning.
The music of poetry filled the perfumed air
And Dostoevsky discussions filtered through the coffee rooms of the enlightened.
I saw St Francis by the Sheep Gate
Talking to Clare with her pretty eyes in the moonlight glare
Conceiving humanity as simple and serene
Without protracted anger and hostilities
Fermenting like wine as the motorcycle monks careened in glee
Around the corner so satisfied to see her
And the children smiled in the tearless world
Where everyone is kind.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Ezy Ryder

There goes ezy
Ezy ryder
Ridin down the highway of desire
He says the free wind
Takes him higher
Tryin to find his heaven above
But hes dyin to be loved
Hes tellin me livin
Is so magic
Something is forever
So he claims
Hes talkin bout lyin
Its so tragic baby
But dont you worry bout today
We got freedom comin our way
Solo
How long
Do you
Think he is gonna last
Carryin out on a gas (? )

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song performed by Jimi Hendrix
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ride

Chillin out from across the room,
I can read your mind.
Dont say a word I can see it in your eyes.
I need a change of scenery,
Blue skies gonna set us free,
All I know is you and I should ride.
[chorus:]
Come with me on a trip to nowhere,
Take a train, plane, or motorbike.
Dont care about your bags, well leave tonight.
Dont care about a destination,
Or the troubles well leave behind,
As long as youre here with me,
Baby lets ride.
Monday of another season, feels like rain,
Tomorrow knows itll belike yesterday.
Getting tired of the same old faces,
I been dreaming bout the brand new places.
Lets fade, check out and get away.
[chorus:]

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song performed by Velvet Empire
Added by Lucian Velea
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Evening In Paradise

Evening in the village it is about nine o'clock nothing on TV except
men in nice suits and cuff links talking about the economy, they all
are experts yet disagree about everything banging hands on table,
getting red faced and angry, so I switched off. A motorbike is making
its unsteady progress through the village, Joao home from the bar,
dogs don't bark, know the sound it is only when he is trying to get
off and fall they bark a little, angry voices, and then utter stillness.
I stroll through the village only street every window is shuttered not
letting out light it is like they think they have to pay extra if it does.
I walk down to the main road and hope anything would come to pass
enveloped as I'm by tediousness. A car drives past I spend minutes,
wondering where it is going. Back home I switch the TV back on,
a drone attack an important terrorist has been killed, as have eleven
other mostly children, collateral damage, but we fight a global war.
I wished for and found my Paradise on earth and it is bloody boring.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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To Write A Poem While You Are Mumbling

while you mumble
about the lives of other people
those that i am also complaining about
knocking at our doors
at early dawns
while we are still feeling
what the world
will be
today

i decided to
simply think about myself
what can i do
to make a silent exit where no one
cares to notice
that i am rushing to
for a trip somewhere

i remember
when the door bell rings

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Homeward Bound

I’m going home tomorrow
by the cold grey light of dawn.
On my motorbike tomorrow
if I can beat the stirring storm.
Down cold long straights of asphalt
until mystique mountain pass.
I’m going home tomorrow
I’m homeward bound a last.

The wind! It whistles through me
icicle stabbing chilling cords
it plays along sprung spine.
Cheeks like glazed ice
nose numb and blue
from frigid mountain air.
Crisp and fresh this morning
this newborn winter’s day.
The stillness frozen
to a depth beyond mute ear.

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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This Is Why

The elder of a pair of twins - my lil sis suddenly
called - Please open the gate, I'm waiting outside;
I went out, there she was on a BIG motorbike, she
explained taxman said we tax your business unless
you spend - she and life partner bought BIG motor-
bikes, riding to a Hotel - Formula One

Overwhelmed, never knew she and Pete - Petrus in
local parlance - had to fight taxman to keep enterprise
going; she bought an enormous scooter - 650 CC and
Pete bought a 1 050 CC - they drove off to Musina; the
back of the beyond where large trucks pass on their way
to far-off Zimbabwe and Mozambique

My lil sis drove till they tackled the mountains where she
was too tired to continue; Pete stopped, someone else
drove the rest of the way; she picked up by car; they
arrived safely - she has fun with her paintings, pool
and most important, taking care of Mom and Dad -
her mind is occupied; though

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Just Be Claus

When I think of Santa Claus
A traditional image comes to mind.
But when I shop in some stores
That is not what I find.

No more sleigh and Reindeer's
For him to get around.
He has a plane and helicopter
To get him off the ground.

Rockin' out with a guitar
Or swinging with his sax
Santa is jammin' on the scene
Just wailing to the max.

Santa rides a motorcycle.
Nice, but what's the deal?
Living at the North Pole
He should have a snowmobile.

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poem by Edward Iacona
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Saturday Night's Alright

It's getting late have you seen my mates,
It's getting late have you seen my mates,
Go on and tell me when the boys get here.
Go on and tell me when the boys get here.
It's seven o'clock and I want to rock,
It's seven o'clock and i want to rock,
Want to get a belly full of beer.
Want to get a belly full of beer.
My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady she don't care
And my old lady she don't care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots with a handful of grease in her hair.
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots with a handful of grease in her hair.
Hey... Don't give us none of your aggravation,
Hey... don't give us none of your aggravation,
We've had it with your discipline.
We've had it with your discipline.
Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting, get a little action in.
Saturday night's alright for fighting, get a little action in.

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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Who's In

Some of us lost before
the game was even over
like my buddy who took a spill
on his motorcycle in August
and snapped his neck
on a curb off Halsted Street
or my close high school friend
that grew apart with years
before the night when the
Cubs won the division and
his wife decided to
plunged a kitchen knife
into his heart for dramatic effect
then there was Billie
who lived in a tree house
one hot Chicago summer
before he had enough and walked over
to the Ike expressway and leaped
into the path of a speeding semi-truck
didn’t have a chance to survive

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poem by Charles Lara
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