"pillion" poems
"Will you wait for me?" He asked
Hesitantly, she: "How long?"
Hope and doubt intense, he: "for 60 years",
"Don't be a stupid, no one wait for anyone, that long": She
"But you said we are the soul mates,
The only key that fitted the lock"
She was long gone; into a dot,
Midst the temple lamps, round the sanctum
************
Hurried, she sent the message of the night and switched off the phone
"Love you; Miss you, my battery dying; Will text you tomorrow"
Amar replied "Me too darling, missing you and love you crazily"
Akbar replied "Hug me close and sleep tight honey, dream only me"
Adil replied "Take care my love, good night and sweet dreams"
Antony was angry, "Why don't you keep the phone charged? Good night"; he was the hubby!
And the stupid opened the door, hugged her in
And whispered "come in, my soul mate
The only key that fitted the lock"
********
"Take me for a ride; I want to be a carefree pillion today,
Floating away with you..."
Holding him tight, legs across, she let her hair loose
“Fly the bumps, I want to fall all over you” she held him tightly
From the pillion of the bike, she longed to see all spectrums of life
"Faster you stupid, I don't want to spend a lifetime as a pillion"
Then one day, she climbed the hills, for good.
He wandered the plains for long
Within their own, they kept a grudge to themselves
For, not letting the lock and key to know
They only fitted each other
********
“I take you to be my wedded wife
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer”
“I take you to be my wedded husband
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer”
Until the God sets us apart
Honey turned the first leaf on- ‘Money!’
“My money is my money, and
Your Money is our money, Stupid!”
Then it was all about I, me and mine
Lock never knew there was a Key
And the Key went from the fights to flights and a final freeze
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
**On 2nd Dec 1984
Occurred
World’s worst industrial disaster,
“The Bhopal gas tragedy”
Leaving thousands dead,
Children orphaned and many people with disabilities for life.
Following day,
Cries of help were heard
Amongst the dead,
Lay few children alive
Shone bright, a ray of hope,
Miraculously the deadly effects
Of the gas they could cope.
Taken under the caring wings of an NGO,
With Medical aid administered
And the vital support to grow.
Amongst the children
There was a girl named Ganga
And a boy named Ravi,
together with other such children,
they grew up,
Finding solace in each other’s
Company.
When reached teenage,
the girls had to be moved in a women’s hostel.
Distanced made them closer to each other,
And, the love grew stronger.
Ganga always dreamt of riding pillion on a bike with Ravi .
Ravi, the crazy boy,
sold his house (compensation by govt.)
And fulfilled her desire,
Often they went for long rides.
In the following years,
The love bloomed,
And
With blessings and love,
their marriage was solemnised
By the NGO.
All the women from the hostel
Joined the wedding ceremony,
Bollywood songs were played loudly,
The Haldi, Sangeet and Mehendi
ceremony made it more lively
On the wedding day,
Ganga attired in traditional weaves
And bridal make up,
A beautiful bride she looked
The hostel warden and her spouse
did her “Kanyadan”.
Fortunate was I to bear
the testimony of the union,
As I stayed in the working women’s hostel then.
Ganga moved in to her house
with Ravi to welcome a life anew.**
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 12:28 AM UTC
*Come, we have a story, said the Old Man. Come, sit and I shall tell you all a little tale of a donkey, a boy and his father…and of strangers too…and many a busybody…
And the children sat round the campfire and the Old Man began his tale…*
One day
(and this is many, many
uncountable days ago)
Father called Son
and he said:
‘Son
you are grown now
into a fine young lad
and you must learn
how to buy and sell
and make a profit
‘So, come let us go
you and I
to the market to see
what silver coins we can get
for this old donkey
in our shed’
2
And so Son and Dad
set out for the town market
across the sandy and rocky miles
and some way off
Dad grew tired and he said:
‘Ah, Son
this walk tires me and so
I shall ride the donkey
while you walk by the side;
so, come let us go
you and I
to the market to see
what silver coins we can get
for this old donkey
that I shall ride’
3
** **
What do we have here?’
came a voice
as the Dad sat riding the donkey
while the Son walked by the side
‘A cruel father you are,’
said the Family Standards Officer
‘Get down, you grown man
and let the child ride!’
And the Father was ashamed
and so he let the Son ride the donkey
and he walked beside
And the Family Standards Officer
was extremely pleased
and he filled up his forms
and he bade the Father and Son safe journey:
‘Ah, this is another
success story
of the Family Welfare Dept
where conscience has won the day
and the Son rides the donkey
and the Father walks beside’
4
And the Father and Son are gone but a mile, a mile - when another interruption came their way, heading straight their way….
‘What do we have here?’
came a scream
and the Mandarin of the
State Morals Education
stopped the trio
and the Mandarin glared disapprovingly
at the boy riding the donkey and he said:
‘Where is your filial piety?
Know you not the son must do his duty
by the father?
Get off the donkey -
you young donkey!
and allow your father to ride
while you walk with reverence
and duty beside!’
And so now we have the
Father on the donkey
and the Son walking beside
all three slowly on and on
Father and son
to the market to see
what silver coins
they might get
for this old donkey
that they have taken turns to ride
5
Then comes an old woman
and she mutters to herself as she passes by:
‘Ah, what’s come of life
that a father should ride and
allow the young to walk.’
And so the Father bids his Son
be a pillion rider with him on the donkey
and so they ride
merrily, merrily
on to the market
to see
what silver coins they can get
for this old donkey
that they both ride
5
But no sooner have they covered
but a mile, just a mile
with the respectable Father
and the filial Son
(both on the hapless donkey)
when a voice thunders out from the bush
and the Animal Rights Activist stands out
and he screams:
‘Oh, you cruel people
that you should ride a helpless donkey !
Shame on you!
Much better that you both
carried the creature!’
And of course
the Son and Father
so reasonable and
always with an open mind
they jump off the donkey
and they carry
the donkey all the way
all the way
just four more miles
just four more miles
and they soon come into the market
carrying the donkey
and shouting:
‘Donkey for sale!
Donkey for sale!’
6
And the buyers
at the markets
they see
this Father and Son
carrying the donkey
and screaming:
‘Donkey f or sale!
Donkey for sale!’
And the buyers they say:
‘But it appears, Sirs,
there are
three donkeys for sale
three donkeys for sale!
In declaring
“Donkey for Sale!”
when there are clearly three
are you offering three
for the price of one?’
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC
#*On my way back home from an evening walk
I noticed ,as I always do
People
And what they do
A little boy with a bag of chips
Brought a smile on my lips
I did smile at him
He smiled back munching on his chips
Barely a few minutes apart
My son's friend riding pillion with his dad
Waved at him and he gestured back
A woman and her son holding hands
Taking an evening walk
The son my age or older than me , ageing mother some illness she had couldn't understand that
Felt blessed that we have people who do care.
Thanked the son in my heart .
Then,
A little girl and her mother , hands held
Walked past me
A feeling , I do relate
From ,
What I had noticed
A few moments before, which made me a bit sad .
An old friend , a neighbour from yesteryears , she has twin sons .
I remember they were toddlers then .
One of them accompanied her
A handsome young man , Sure, he did not recognise me.
A little chat with my friend
And there , I reached home .*#
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
Cottonwood falling,
A snow in July,
Filling the air with fluffy flakes
And covering the world with
White fuzziness.
We're riding,
Just as fast as we can,
Racing,
Stirring up the drifts
While the wind blows the avalanche closer.
I feel warm,
Being so close to you and the sun.
A warm snow--
Don't you think that's ironic?
I love the snow,
I love your heat.
My heart is going as fast as we are,
Fifty, Sixty, Seventy miles an hour.
I embrace you closer,
This thrill of a panicking soul,
It's magic.
Keep me in this illusion of a
Peaceful time.
Lift me sky high,
Let me fall in warmth like this
Snow in July.
I feel so free,
So young and bright eyed,
A naive star
In a Hollywood movie.
Let's get out of this small town,
Let's make new memories together.
I want to see the world,
I want to see the highlight,
With our song,
The one where we sing along.
Tonight,
Our love is a song,
A soundtrack to
A snow in July.
We can see the world
Together.
No need for others to ruin our
Loving silence.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Salvador Dali
Rode a Harley-Davidson
All the way from Bali
To Abu Dhabi
With Charley the Cat
Riding pillion.
Said Charley to Dali
All weathered and gnarly
I get quite incensed
By children's lack of road sense.
When I get back to Britain
I think I'll start
A Road Safety Campaign.
Good idea
Said Dali
To Charley
Who replied
Thanks a million.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Oh my dear friend
where are you?
Till yesterday
we fought
we argued
we discussed
we debated
we agreed
we disagreed
we agreed to disagree
we learnt from each other
or at least
I learnt a lot from you..
But
Oh my dear friend
where are you?
We said goodbye
in the late evening
at the side of the road
Leading to your abode
On a Tuesday night
Only to hear that
You had gone away
With out a word the next day!
I still
remember your smiling face
your sparkling eyes through your glasses
your sharp and crisp words
your simplicity
your sense of humour
your no-nonsense approach to things
your straightforwardness
your firm but friendly voice
You left me on the highway
Not to return
only your memories
will linger in my mind
till I find another friend just like you
which is impossible
for you are so much inside me..
Oh my dear friend
where are you..?
Even after all these days
I feel you as my pillion rider
at the back of my bike.
Oh my dear friend,
where are you..?
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
Wide awake in a dream.
It was a bright stadium.
Wide empty lanes of the perimeter
I felt there were some within
A girl rushing, couldn't stay
Spoke to me urgently
"Meet by the Water Tower"
I wandered aimless there were none
To ask the way,
I came upon the edge of moorland
A hill that rose away,
Above, stretched flat on rising slope
Grey stones
Laid together close, as game of tiles.
I could stand on one, both feet
Walking along the bottom edge.
I picked up the left cornerstone.
It was large, heavy carrying at first
Brushing off clinging earth,
Seeing the shadowy shapes engraved,
Went to find the Water Tower.
In the stadiums lanes of white, forlorn,
A woman came to me in uniform
Asked of my purpose.
I told her my plight, she sat me in her car
I looked up
High above.
Shining translucent white container, a tank;
Generating power, suspended along cables and
Containing water.
I wondered at this,
Then she brought a sort of bike
Said "I'll take you now"
Riding pillion both hands holding stone
Thought "I'll surely fall"
As we banked
It was so fast, colours a-blur
Long, far, perilous, vast distance,
When we stopped, she turned.
Alone
Abandoned on the moorland
Rough ragged tufts of grey, green grass,
Forever each way, in mist faded substance
I know this place but I am lost,
The moorland has no directions
Standing so with the cornerstone
Now heavy
Rough, heavy as a world's reflections.
Then from the mist striding t'wards
Tall man upright in strange dress, feathers,
Hide, hair streaming weathered,
Coming into focus stands before me greets
Takes the cornerstone and reads it, hard worked hands
Deep blue eyes, into mine and mind, translating:
" We are of the Sz'ip p T'ik k "
There were clicking sounds,
Means the first ones,
" You are to take a message.
" The message is:
" 'To The Survivor of Your People, say this..
" Survive!' "
Then I am pulled away he's gone,
I open eyes.
Repeating words
Reach for my pen
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
What is it about this night that attracts me?
It's the same dark Indian sky - a battle-field
of grey and pink clouds, scattered stars.
A biker at my door step nodding in acknowledgement.
The next moment I am a pillion zooming past
dusty streets and honking cars - such chaos.
What is it about this night that calls me?
It's the same old destination - more trees
and lesser people. A highway as a leeway
to all perils of this hateful city.
This ride is a big U-turn and I'll be back
To the same cacophony, same city trash.
What is it about this night that strikes me?
It's the same me, wearing the same old pair of jeans,
A jacket to meet the cold, kohl in my eyes.
Same oggling at the silent, cold night
Still searching for something eventful to happen
Till the cold chills me and I wish my haven.
Not until you reached for my numb hand on my knee
And placed it on your warm, alive chest, Not until
I felt the rhythmic thud within, did I realize
What is so special - It was feeling reality and acceptance -
Life is so much more than just me. It's in the wide
night sky that cuddles me, in every person with a heart
that beats, in every moment you allow yourself to get old
and live with experiences, in places, with you.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
Each time he slows bike,
spring blossoms, succulent fruits—
her coy, joyous hug!
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
She made him Punctual from a late latheef
An extrovert out of a lone desert
Chivalrous knight who was an insensible trash
Responsible man who always forgot the dates
Kind human whom world saw as a hooligan
Studious kid who was a topper in reverse order
Majestic man out of a whiny babe
She made him drop the Deadwing, which had his soul
listen to Chainsmokers which was once detested
share his share of chocolates and make an amendment
Let the pillion occupy the special reserved seat
Dump all the colossal ego just to see her grin
Ignore the friends as if some ***** jinx
Get drenched because she found bliss in it
How do you feel now, that the bait is consumed
There is no more interest, no intrigue left
Get the control of the handle now
Rev your ****** out on the road you like
Stop not till you find the the right place
Hope is what keeps us awake through ghastly nights.
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 7:53 AM UTC
S Creeker
Just have to say
read your poems
and it was a wild ride.
from the hunter
onwards,
you laid down your words
in a pattern,
i read as truth...
at the moment,
your book here is small,
but i hope you stay....
and create a sheaf
of poetry so freakin tall.
you take me...
where i have never been,
or likely to go
and with style
and flair.....
i see it all.....
i be a ****** standing, gaping in the corner there.
so please,
take these words,
as a compliment due...
and encouragement,
to let me again
ride pillion
on your mind's wild side.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
***A little bit of Rain
And little bit of Sunshine
A Rainbow in the Evening Sky
With a Tinge of Double
The Spectacular moment Captured
By The Lens of The Eye
Mesmerised
Darker The clouds
The rainbow shies Away
A light Drizzle , not Today
Nor a Scattered Shower
It's a Downpour
And a Roar not far Away
Innocuous puddles
All the way
A little Bumpy Ride
With my younger
Son
Riding Pillion
Off for his Karate Class
Together we cut the Puddle
Splashing out the Water on Us
And Fellow Riders
A few Joyous Moments For Us
My son Euphoric
Asking for Once More
Ride back home !!***
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 7:00 AM UTC
I'm the Toy that never got sold,
Oh God!! I'm the one you had cold ******
I'm the Bike stranded at the signal,
Oh God! I'm the one figuring out how to be rhetorical
I'm Still riding on an empty pillion,
Oh God! Why am I the one u chose to ***** in the billion?
All I ask from you,
Is some Luck and Cue
As Oh God! I'm the (only) one who forgave you :)
I promise I won't blame you
Again for my blues;
Because My dear God! I'm the one who needs you.
I'm the land that has been for long barren,
Oh God! Do remember even I'm one of your Children
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 1:37 PM UTC
Streets lit by car lights.
Carriages long gone.
Two wheeled horses banging on and on.
Huge machines.
C.C's please me.
Tearing by, proud as ever.
Sporting moments, wearing leather.
Thunderstorms on burning wheels.
Dusty trails on city streets.
Desert highway cruising.
Motors always running.
Heat haze.
Rainbow oil stains.
Ride the long and short of all.
Solo.
Pillion.
One in a million.
Thrill on the back of a mighty bike.
(c)LIVVI
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Cushier near
The pillion
In tatterdemalion
Uncomfortable
By the hitchhiking
hire
Laying fire to
The streets of admirers
Carrying a man in need
Expecting to be in a radio station
Before next week
It's gonna make really weak contention
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
The photos lay in a pile of dust
They’d gathered under the bed,
They’d not seen the light of day for years
Were neglected there, instead,
The wife found them with the first spring clean
And she dumped them in my lap,
‘Who is the girl on the Honda Dream,
And the guy in the leather cap?’
I must have shot her a funny look
As we guys are wont to do,
‘A girl I must have been going with
About twenty before you.’
She picked the photo out of the pile
And she brushed it on her skirt,
I thought, ‘Oh, here we go again,’
Her face said she was hurt.
‘How come I’ve never seen her before,’
She was getting close to tears,
I snatched the photo out of her hand,
‘It must be fifty years!
I can’t recall the time or the place
And I can’t recall her name.’
She punched me once on the shoulder, said:
‘You ought to be ashamed!’
That photo sat on the mantelpiece
And it stared at me for weeks,
A bonny girl with a pouting lip
And the wife gave me no peace.
It was, ‘Just what did you talk about?
What did she used to say?’
I said, ‘I can’t for the life of me
Remember a single day.’
She served the hot-pot up stone cold
And the gravy didn’t move,
I think she mixed it with concrete just
To show she didn’t approve.
I said, ‘I was only twenty then,
That snap was way back when,
We’ve been together for forty years,
Why drag her up again?’
‘You’ve kept her a secret all these years,
That photo, under the bed,
How do I know you’re not in touch?’
I said, ‘She’s probably dead!’
I racked my brains for a memory
But all I could see were thighs,
Pert young ******* and a petticoat
And a twinkle in her eyes.
But still I couldn’t recall her name
Or a single word she’d said,
Only the scent of her sweet young breath
As we rolled in her parents bed,
She’d clung to me on the pillion seat
As her skirt flared out, and streamed,
Down at the back of Fletcher’s Wood
On the back of the Honda Dream.
‘I want to know what you did with her,
Though it doesn’t matter now.’
(I’d fallen for one of those tricks before,
The wife’s a devious cow!)
I thought of the day the fun had gone
When we lay, looked up at the sky,
‘Ah, now I remember what she said,
One word, just one… Goodbye!’
David Lewis Paget
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
To live life vicariously
is to be a shadow
riding pillion
on someone else's bike
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 4:34 AM UTC
A little known fact
That may not scream real tact,
But the truth nonetheless
A gift I possess.
I’m a genius all-right,
My star always bright,
From birth until now
Always destined to WOW.
Some call me quite mad,
But in truth they’re just sad,
That they cannot be
A star just like me.
I’m one in a billion
America’s pillion,
The man of the hour,
The seat of all power.
Each word that I utter
Causes records to shatter,
Opponents to swoon
Crying world ending doom.
Yet the markets are up,
World leaders pile up
To knock on my door
Beseeching for more.
My supporters all know
The effect of my glow,
While the rest shall soon feel,
My art of the deal.
I’ve only just started, you’ve seen nothing yet,
I’m the one you should follow and not that great threat,
I’ll make us all rich, of that there’s no doubt
Let’s bring in the sunshine, enough of the drought.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Every time I pass out into the light going north from the Terrace Tunnel
Gunning the car up to the 100k limit on the motorway
I am haunted by the memory of the death of 18-year old Natalia Austin
Whose body was flung headlong into the opposite lane:
‘What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?’
Natalia fell in with adults who were drug-addicted and limitlessly irresponsible
And was persuaded to ride pillion on a Harley Davidson
Having been given a brief lesson on leaning with the bike
By Dee McMahon’s girlfriend Monique.
‘For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!’
McMahon was nearly five times over the legal alcohol limit
The equivalent of having drunk up to 42 standard drinks -
The autopsy also found morphine and tramadol
In what was left of McMahon’s corpse.
‘That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd’
Hitting 140k on the bend out of the Tunnel
He smacked the bike several times against the concrete median strip
Shedding metal in showers of sparks
And ripping limbs away in showers of blood.
‘Who are these coming to the sacrifice?’
"We're trying to go forward and cherish the memory of a beautiful girl
Who had a bright future, and who was just too innocent and trusting -
You let your little girl go and you hope she's going to be looked after by adults.
She trusted them, and they've let her down miserably."
‘What little town by river or seashore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?’
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC