Posts Tagged ‘poems’

Autumn Twilight Plinking

October 16, 2015

In the early part of Desert Storm, the U. S. Air Force was using the formidable F-111F to -plink- (squish) Sadam’s tanks. Plinking was accomplished using LASER guided smart bombs dropped from the F-111s. Last night, I was using my headlight to guide bugs to -plink-; ouch! And there really are bugs we call Love-Bugs here in Texas…


Sol’s autumn beams cast shadows long, he sets quite gently in the west;

my V-twin steed loafs anxiously awaiting throttle’s harsh requests.

Rain in spring and summer heat are parents to a plague replete-

with tiny aviators wings; hit my face and goggles, -plink-.

Air is crisp as engine torques, propels me through a dimming view;

light retreats along my way, sky dilutes to muted satin hues.

Rejoice! to ride in twilight clear, stars proclaim their ancient truth above-

Annoying thuds against my cheeks; gnats, flies and bugs called ‘Love’.

How is it then that I deserve, to taste majestic rolling bliss;

upon a rail quite finely tuned, Mazzaroth bestows her ancient kiss.

Committed to the path at hand, each twist and turn of road I think,

of hard forged steel with God’s Good Grace;

and flying bugs enduring each annoying -plink-.


Traffic Symphony #2

October 9, 2015

Traffic is getting worse all the time. My motorcycle feels it.


Yield signs, crosswalks, right turn only lanes;
chronic victims texting without looking through their panes-
Stop and go methodically, my V-twin’s heating up,
Turning into coffee shops, abruptly for to sup-

Brake pads wearing rapidly, down to sliver size-
Harsh acceleration thins synthetic oils’ prize.
Highway backups spill into the side-streets evermore…
Politicians promise funding fixes; vaporize galore.

Right wrist sore from flexing lever constantly, to slow-
Glaring green defeated by a towers’ data flow.
“Love thy neighbor always friend”, the Lord has spoken thus…
Otherwise we’d find them neatly tucked below some bus-

V-Twin Valentine

February 14, 2015

The history of Valentine’s Day is shrouded in misty myth and legend. Some believe an early Christian named Valentine worked to save his condemned brothers and sisters but ended up a victim himself. Love in action! – but no one knows for sure… In a more modern setting, giving Valentine’s Day cards has been going on for several hundred years.  What does all this sacrificial love and romance have to with V-Twin motorcycles? Well, maybe a box of chocolates with a fat check taped to the lid will get you a few hours to ride… just saying.


Dreamy princess binds your time,

A Valentine bestowed sublime!

Feminine, the bottom line-

cold hard cash for cruising fine.


Feather clouds above the dawn,

Fuel Injector; petrol drawn-

Hard light to power my piston’s song;

FED dollars they don’t last too long.


Romance fills the miles I ride,

Love the power those dollars hide…

Amid pillows; dreams of clothes,

And as she sleeps-

I fly past pasture fencing rows.

Chrome at the Post

October 2, 2014

One hundred fifty years ago cowboys would come off the range, hitch their ponies to the post in front of the local saloon, and go in and drink sarsaparillas. The horses rested at the hitching post and cooled themselves at the water trough. The cowboys got out of the wind and refreshed themselves with soft-drinks. This romantic half-truth kept the peace on the old range and allowed white men and native americans to cooperate and prosper- sometimes. Other times not so much… At any rate the old reliable equine has been replaced by the motorcycle.


Sweating horses, hitching post-

long past; shadows of a cowboy’s ghost.

At Starbucks now my ride doth rest;

Blue chrome reflects my drink request.


Horse power measured digit one,

saddle, spurs and hat with gun;

Today a ride of grumbling haste-

Horses thunder, high-test grace.


Reigns of leather, bridle held,

Twelve hundred pounds of muscle meld-

Progress turned horse flesh to steel;

side-stand tilts, V-twin revealed.


Long ago the horses ruled,

hitching post and water cooled.

Modern rides; two wheels might roll-

electronic lock controlled.

Motorcycle Diet

June 27, 2014

Motorcycles are exactly like money; they are inherently neither good or bad, can be used for value based exchanges, often their value is related to the latest crude oil quote and are occasionally moved in the middle of the night by nefarious characters. They have been known to take people to places they should avoid – like ice cream parlors.


Sugar cravings creeping round?
Can’t quite lose that stubborn pound?
Blame may lie at V-twin’s wheels-
Tuesday has those 2- for deals!

As you round your favorite curve
Speed demands your steeled nerve-
Then your will to jelly turns,
Spying house of deep fried burns!

Gasoline flows in your tank,
Card it siphons from your bank.
Salty snacks on shelves abound…
Belt to loosen stomach round.

Chocolate becons; creamy song-
Scale bemoans you’re in the wrong!
Motorcycle doesn’t care…
Adjust the shocks once more- with care.

Chaos Cruiser

September 30, 2013

I noticed I hadn’t posted for over a month. You guys probably thought you were safe…! But I had to spend two whole dollars to sit in Starbucks to write this thing. And the FED says there is no inflation-


Strife, anger – harried souls,

impatient roads on which I roll.

Obamacare, the fourth of four,

my v-twin fouls with noise galore.


Schools rage; parents lost-

kids join gangs with hearts of frost.

Washington; of hammocks built,

forgotten mores, now progressive silt.


Everyone a victim seems,

handouts flash for voting schemes.

Yet on I ride the pistons beat;

freedom revs without retreat.


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.

Ride Free NSA

July 25, 2013

Motorcycles are becoming more electronic every year. Computer chips control fuel flow to the engine, there are electronic throttles, mileage and range is computer controlled. Each of these systems emit electronic signals that can be captured, downloaded and recorded. Sheriff departments across the nation drive around with special trunk mounted cameras that record license plate information. 1984 is here daddyo!


Browsing steel steeds on wires fast,
Hondas, Harley’s; rides of rigor last-
Anticipate the v-twin bagger sound,
Invoice dollars, shekel, yen or pound.
– All info NSA has duly found…

Rides of chrome and brightest hue,
Processors flash numbers, engine ques.
A GPS will truly guide me home,
Swipe credit card for gas and oil to roam-
– NSA my data doth quick comb…

Park your ride; respite-, tea un-sweet;
Snap license plate, digitized quiet feat!
Tap phone of cell technology to chat-
Her love confessed to silicon disks flat.
– NSA details of data fat-

Times before the 60’s do I crave!
When wrong directly challenged by the brave-
Roads of only sunlight spectrum knew,
Rolling kisses and the wind; sky blue.
– NSA employees very few.

Rush Hour Rider

May 17, 2013

I guess it’s about time I post another composition. You know, this one probably isn’t as good as some of my previous musings… so take a look at a couple of them NOW! Right Now-

Oh, and buy the way; have you spoken to your neighbor about this blog? You know he needs to read it because of the way he doesn’t ride motorcycles. Or maybe it’s the way he votes…?

Getting around in rush hour on a motorcycle can be perilous. You must have good SA ( Situational Awareness ) and an even temper. Congestion on our motorways is more like it is today than it ever has been before.


Late, asleep or caffeine stoked,

Deftly turn from bonger’s toked-

Kiddies prepped; yellow bus distain;

flashing lights, their speed restrain.


Stop and go; a slight repose,

from handy men with trailers towed-

vague memories of open road,

brake hard! ahead an overload.


She turns left! reflector’s stripes-

despite all training, horns and gripes…

Threats to riders everywhere,

Welcome to the rush and scare.


Price This Motorcycle

March 5, 2013

FIRST: are you just reading my latest posting? You had better be browsing some of my previous posts also. Unless you are an unrepentant communist-

Today’s Posting: Motorcycles are like all other vehicles, they get traded and resold. But how does one find a good deal on a used ride. Make, model, year, mileage and condition are the five fundamental dimensions of your bid. But are there more subtile aspects that reveal hidden value? Maybe…


Make and model sets the tone,
Style of ride, and rides alone-
Power plant opposed or twin,
Street, off road or cruiser skin.
Price my ride a sale to win
Model Year will calculate,
Fuel inject or carborate;
Mileage drives you to look hard-
Tranny, clutch and service card.
Price my ride a sale; not hard
Serious and dark is black,
Balanced bright with chrome attack.
Red or blue with white and green,
The spectrum full and sometimes clean.
Price my ride, big dollars keen!
Economics up or down,
Unemployment makes its rounds,
Moody buyers squeeze their gold-
Cheaper now is what we’re told,
Price my ride; hold firm, be bold.