Archive for the ‘Plagiarized’ Category

Rose Colored Goggles

August 9, 2013

This is another one of my plagiarized poems. What a surprise huh? I’m using John Conlee’s idea for this poem. He sings a song about looking through ‘Rose Colored Glasses’. His significant other isn’t really that interested in him, but he presses on with his unrequited attentions. It’s got a good tune if you’ve never heard it… So, if you are a regular motorcycle rider in our modern society – you probably own at least one pair of Rose Colored Goggles-


Scalding breeze at fifty five,
freezing rain in puddles dive-
sunshine blinds the morning dawn;
wooded ride; beware the fawn.

but these rose colored goggles,
that I’m looking through-
mask threats environmental;
power past creations’ truth.

Yellow lights, traffic crawling-
A-D-D electric scrawling…
angry rage, excessive speed;
avoiding impacts is my creed.

but these rose colored goggles,
clear highways I see;
oil spills and potholes deep-
occasionally around I creep.

Loose chains, brake pads real thin;
a second job for dollars win.
Adjust the clutch, buy more chrome-
new battery before I roam.

But these rose colored goggles,
elastic band all stretched-
show only the beauty,
of good rides, fully fetched.


In the Arms of the Octane

June 14, 2013

Sorry- initially had some trouble loading this effort; then I made some changes. Thanks to Sarah McLachlan for the inspiration from her song ‘Angel’!


Seconds lost each traffic stop,
V-twin grumbles, mounted cop,
Looking for that turnoff right,
LEDs make darkness bright.
You’re in the arms of the octane,
ninety-three is its refrain.
Ride alone on asphalt pathways,
Towards an angel; restless stays.
Open road – twist throttle max,
RPMs of needle packs-
Accelerate then cruise ahead,
Burning fuel without the lead.
You’re in the arms of the octane,
oxygen ignites the strain.
Revolutions translate miles,
Gas transfixed; past many trials.

Ethanol Torque

January 9, 2013

This piece is still in work… Years ago the rock group Air Supply released a song called ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All’ . That fact, upon closer inspection has absolutely nothing to do with major fuel companies putting ethanol into our retail pumps. Corn should be eaten, not burned! But “Making torque out of corn ethanol” stuck in my head. So another one of my plagiarized poems has emerged… BTW, if you don’t know, torque is rotational force ( like making my motorcycle’s rear wheel spin ). Torque makes motorcycles fun!


The owners guide declares it clear-

While you ride both far and near;

Petroleum for freedom’s call-

My torque explodes from drillers’ awl.


Engineered for petrol flow,

Octane ninety three; must show-

A blend appears, is good for all!

My torque evolves; corn ethanol.


Particulates in winter’s clog,

The ‘EPA’ declares “It’s smog”.

The cure it seems is green and tall-

My torque comes clean; corn ethanol.


Hungry is starvation’s child,

Nutritious corn is sweet and mild-

V-twins win the money brawl!

My torque derives; corn ethanol.

Rockers in Red

June 4, 2012

This is another of my plagiarized poems; in about 1991 Lorrie Morgan first sang her song ‘Something in Red’. I’ve used her idea of colors and Rhyme to look for motorcycles. If you don’t know, Rockers and Road Glides are Harley’s, a Beemer is a BMW, a Hammer is made by Victory, and a GoldWing is a Honda. Enjoy…


I’m looking for Rockers in Red-
price tag not shocking, more payments I dread
chrome steel wheels and rake out to there;
Accelerate fiercely and hold on with care,
Pipes very noisy the neighbors have said…

I’m looking for Rockers in Red.
(mentally insert sweeping vistas of background orchestra)

I’m looking for Beemers in Green-
quickly to motor along to each scene.
Envy it comes in the color of jade
Many more dollars and it will be paid
The LowJack recovers when it can’t be seen…

I’m looking for Beemers in green-
(insert more majestic music)

I’m looking for Hammers in White-
Out-running troopers is such a delight;
Rain gear to wear if it’s no longer fair,
should I don a helmet or rag on my hair?
don’t crowd me while driving my lane is my right-

I’m looking for Hammers in White
( you know what to do )

I’m looking for GoldWings of Blue-
Not for a used one, it’s got to be new.
Lights all around with the stereo sound,
Roll on the throttle if it can be found-
Toggles and buttons there are not a few!

I’m looking for GoldWings in Blue.
( do it again but even more sweepingly )

I’m looking for Road Glides in black
of beefy horsepower it surely won’t lack;
the fairing protects me from bottles that fly-
and two lights are forward to make others shy.
my friends who ride with me they cut me no slack-

I’m looking at this one,

I’ve got to have that one-

I’m still undecided-, stop back.

Addicted to Ride – build –

January 1, 2012

Still working on this… since Weird Al did ‘Addicted to Spuds’

Salute to Robert Palmer of Addicted to Love fame… a small ‘plagerization’ on his idea


Reach out your hand, the tins are cool,

It beckons hard; so you skipped school

The engine’s off, but it still screams-

You run away, it haunts your dreams.

Just one more ride; and then you’re done!

You live your life – in wind and sun.

You shake and sweat, your knees are weak

Another cruise, a cross town streak


Paint of blue, and tires all black;

Of metals’ strength, it does not lack-

The signals flash, you need to turn;

In sunshine bright, the seat will burn!

Just one more ride; and then you’re done!

Too many bills, cut back this one.

You shake and sweat, your body aches

Another cruise, past streams and lakes.


A V-twin sits, below your thighs;

Ride down the street, past longing eyes.

A roar most deep, the pipes all shine.

Accelerate, it feels so fine.

Just one more ride; and then you’re done!

You live your life – hamburger bun.

You shake and sweat, the helmets tight

Another cruise, then you’ll be right


You need to know, your issue clear;

For chrome you long, at fame you sneer.

So when you ride, on highways far-

Of one track mind; is what you are-

Just one more ride … to buy a car.

More than a Whisper

September 9, 2010

Nanci Griffith – that great female vocalist from Austin, TX, sings a song about needing more than a whisper of love. So I used her idea at the end of this free verse. Motorcycles can’t love you back. But they can give more than a whisper; especially when you twist hard on the throttle. Remember, this is free verse so rhyming wasn’t a priority (sorry).


Back-roads grim or sleek uptown lights-

sixth gear ride towards bumper lines harsh.

And thoughts drift back to bright flashes – long dim,

and brittle memories strewn down dusty lanes.


But suddenly, cleared in quick with red hot revs;

around wide curves without regret.

His ride it speaks with steady roar,

straight on – much more than a whisper.

Green Light Casey

January 25, 2010

Was waiting for a light yesterday and had a ‘heavy breather’ pull up along side. Wish I had his displacement! Anyway, needless to say I couldn’t keep up with him but it was fun and loud under the interstate bridge! Since I didn’t win, it reminded me of Thayer’s poem about Casey.

(Plagiarized from ‘Casey at the Bat’ by ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER)


The odds were pretty lousy as I idled on my ride,

A dark and heavy breather had rolled up on the right side.

I could tell he had more power by the noise exhausting forth,

And the sun was brightly shining; ┬áin my eyes – oh to face north!


I revved my smallish engine just a little to hold pride,

in response the earth it rumbled as the challenge was replied.

No words were ever spoken as we waited for the green,

I stared ahead and knew that my reflexes must be keen.


The cars approaching opposite – turned left as was their right,

Impatience grew for both of us as the seconds made their flight.

One obstacle before us was the lane just past the bridge,

A careful application, not full power by a smidge.


And suddenly the light was green – I beat him to the punch,

Perhaps my quickness and technique would help me eat his lunch.

Beneath the bridge the noise was loud, then engines had to slow,

The other lane still had the green and ours of red did glow.


But then our light – turned green and when the noise did tear the air,

As forty came, then forty five – just enough to show some flair.

My judgement was assuaged as his dark steed – it zoomed ahead,

His mighty engine roared on by, defeat it was his dread.


Oh! somewhere – like right here today the sun is shining bright,

And friendly riders run about, their hearts are clean and light.

On modest engines they do laugh and wave, as children shout,

But not today, you see, my mid-sized bike it got beat out!

Fog Ride

December 31, 2009

Plagiarized from Carl Sandburg’s Fog (apologies!)

The fog comes softly,

makes it hard to see.

Settles on metal,

as I turn the key.

Stray cat startled,

on his little cat feet.

V-Rod New Years

December 24, 2009

Plagiarized from Clement Clarke Moore (Twas the Night Before Christmas)

Twas the night before New Years and in the garage,

The V-Rod was stirring, parked next to the Dodge.

Its keys were hung neatly arranged on the rack,

I’d slip in a short ride – while they nibbled on snacks.


This cold night for sure – it demanded full dress,

A helmet and gloves, several layers no less.

I quietly rustled around for my boots,

Slipped on my chaps, my best friend in cahoots.


The door closed discretely as a TCLOCS was done,

All systems were readied it was time for some fun!

The engine turned over quite smoothly and quick,

I was off down the road with a thumbs up from Nick.


Just a mile or two – was all the time that I had,

I’d look at some angels, go back home – be a gad.

But what to my wondering eyes did appear-

Lights flashing behind me, some yelling – oh, Dear!


She opened the car door, and made such a clatter,

I shut down my hot V-Rod, to see what was the matter.

“You’ve ruined my party”, – all the neighbors could hear;

My arms fell around her, in regret – drew her near.


“It’s the V-Rod”, I whimpered; just a little white lie,

“It makes you jump on it – and ride?”; her reply.

Overhead there was rumbling, we looked up in full fear,

Air Force One flying over, flaps halfway and with gear!


Obama was waving and throwing out gifts,

“All America loves me, and my emotional lifts!”

He needed some prompting, seemed in love with himself,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!


A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know that our future was dread.

We stood there in wonder as he shouted to us-

“New health care taxation, no more cars – ride the bus!


My V-Rod rode angry as I made my way home,

The wife was a steamin’, when I got to the phone.

Our congressman listed intently at first-

But hinted there might be more news, yet the worst!


“You see, new environment laws will demand,

all gas burning engines may be banned in our land.”

This news was disturbing but taken in stride-

Happy New Year to all – forget Barry – Let’s Ride!

The Bike Not Purchased

December 19, 2009

with apologies to Robert Frost (plagiarized from his poem ‘The Road Not Taken’):

Two rides displayed on the showroom floor,

Without sufficient funds for both-

And being one buyer, long I stood;

Looking at price, best features – I should…?

Near closing time, make a choice – I would.


Then took the cheapest, just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim-

Though less snazy, it wanted wear;

A little less power, chrome and pride

It kept from scorn towards me, my bride.


Yet, both rides that morning on display

No tire yet taken on asphalt black.

Oh, I kept the other for another day!

When price and paycheck lead the way,

Never doubting that often I’d be back.


I tell this tale of buying past

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two rides displayed on the showroom floor, and I-

I took the one less glamourized,

And that has kept the spouse less energized.