Poetry By Chuck





When I get dressed to ride
I feel the need for speed
It comes from inside
from it I can't hide
and the anticipation builds
as I prep in pride

I've checked the bike
from air pressure to brakes
and I know its ready
having cured its mechanical ills
and it's not going to break
Its a cruiser not a trike, that I like

The heavy leather that I don
lays with weighted shoulders
and feels like armor to me
I almost feel invincible
an accident impossible
an impression wrong

Still, the armor of leather and plastic
gives a sense of strength and survival
and the crash-bars surround me
their strength of tested steel
a monster of chrome almost unreal
and makes me feel...fantastic

I walk towards the beast
I see its motor, its teeth
I feel that rush of pride
as the chrome reflects from its side
and I find myself drawn to its power
a dark and dangerous feast

I stand in leather and chains
my mind is totally drained
by the pull of this bruiser
this heavy cruiser
An emotional black hole
where only anticipation remains

This, is what a fighter jet pilot feels
as he walks the tarmac towards his stead
and sees the power of its pull
and anticipates the desire of his heart
as it beats fast and full
almost but not quite unreal

For some silence and solitude appeals
for me its thunder and chrome lightning
Wild Thing I think I love you
Route 66 from desert to backwoods sticks
car alarms and shattered dreams
white lines under my wheels

You may read this and wonder why I write
I tell of a sport that is really a way of life
I write because its all about the ride
the wind in the face and ownership of pride
and I can't hide that sense of freedom
I don't need a flag nor must I give a reason

I ride