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K E Cummins Jul 2020
Calm sleep day
Urban brick
Birdsong, windy leaves

Inexplicable bagpipes

Lift soul brave
Raw harsh demand
Rise, rise and stand
This is life and beauty


Motorbike engine roar
Every day, a bagpiper stands outside our neighborhood Covid Testing Centre and plays for the people waiting in line. I reckoned this old poem was short, sweet, and perfect for Canada Day 2020.
George Apr 2020
You are selfish, shallow, adrenaline seeking. Blind, short sighted, borderline death seeking.

Thrill catching, leathers matching, fuel flowing, shallow breathing.
The release of control, self preservation is screaming.

Your intrigue for the wild has brought you here. In seeking proximate demise your intentions are clear.

However is there more, to his bottomless hole? More than adrenaline, flight, the search for extol?

Could there be meaning found where reasoning retires? Is there space in this world for simply following desires?

Vast I’m sure is your strength of intrigue. Or fear of what if, what next, what indeed. The roads may be littered, treacherous, packed. But what really matters when all what ifs are sacked?

It’s the smell of the air, the fumes, the tires. Enveloping you whole, until you retire.

No question of when, how or why. No pondering which, what, wondering eyes.

Pure pleasure, indeed, is what we seek. Here and now, not bitter or bleak.

An antidote to chaos, here we have found. Me and my bike, 3 feet from the ground.

kyle dionysus Jul 2017
I was dog tired. Just keeping my eyes open was tough. My timid body was drunk with fatigue. Staring for a whole day at a computer screen and typing as if in a trance, had left my mind blank. My skinny hands were frostbitten in the cheap artificial leather gloves, as they clung to the motorbike handles. My heart raced as I looked at the ominous black clouds.          I tried to focus on the gloomy scenery as my mind drifted in and out of my dream world. Winter had turned the green hedges into lifeless shapes with razor sharp thorns. Mud from previous vehicles had turned the hedges into the edges of a war zone. The trip felt endless as my threadbare tyres skated round the bends. After driving for a hour, the icy chill of the evening air had made me regret not putting on my old trusted army jacket. My rusty red Honda 500cc motor cross motorbike kept up its duel with the dirt road as its exhaust barked continuously. The beam of my headlights kept stabbing the gloomy sky.               With my frostbitten hand, I switched on my CD player, in a desperate effort to focus on the road. The words of Golden Earrings Radar Love pierced my eardrums  "...almost there, gotta keep cool". My goggles started to fog up as I echoed the lyrics. I started to breath shallowly like a chain smoker, to stop my goggles from frosting further. I had just became used to the soothing distraction, when the motorbike gave its last bark and gradually coasted to a stop. I got off my stead, with my joints feeling like a geriatric patient that had completed a rodeo. I surveyed the bust engine as my cursing breath formed little clouds in the gelid air. I dug around in my shabby jeans, whipped out my cellphone, only to discover that there was no reception. I salvaged my flashlight from the bikes saddlebag and popped a "Life Safer" sweet into my mouth. I realized that I had to walk to the nearest town.                 I started down the road, remembering my fathers reference to isolation, being between "hell and the hotel." My flashlight reminded me of load shedding and sudden darkness. As I walked past a small lake, the clouds parted, revealing  a crescent moon that hung in the air like a haunted vessel. The moon reflected in the lake, to a watery grave for the sailors. I got the eerie feeling as I walked, that someone or something was following me. I stopped and swallowed the stale cold coffee that was left in my hip-flask. The howling Arctic wind had ceased and I could hear my own heartbeat. Ledd Zeppelins Stairway to heaven started smoothly...
Terry Collett Jul 2017
California 1925
and it was Soper
who was in the sidecar
of the motorbike
and his dark haired
wife Sophie
who was
beside the bike
getting ready
to ride it.

I want to ride
on the deserted beach
she said.

He was in
his black swim suit.

She in that
swimming costume
black with white stripes.

The beach is
empty of people
she said.

He looked at her
guess you can
no harm can be done
he said
looking out
at the sea
on the long stretch
of beach
yellow sands
making sure
he could see
no boulders anywhere.

She put her
25 year old leg
over the bike
and started it up.

He held on tight
to both sides
of the sidecar.

She looked
ahead of her.

Keep your eyes squinted
he said
in case you get
sand in them.

She nodded
and smiled.

He closed his eyes
he knew
when he met her
she was kind of wild.
i Mar 2014
that black leather,
surrounding your waist,
back and shoulders,
all i want to do
is grip tight on it
and never let go,
as we are driving on this
old, used motorbike
without our helmets,
like we are just waiting,
and wanting our lives
to come to
an end,
thinking we are dangerous
and cool,
when we are just
young and reckless.

— The End —