the old dirt bike's mission:
ascend to new heights
high five the unseen vertex
with CO2 emissions
gunning with echoed wisdom
the bike launches tellingly upwards
grunting with fervor
guzzling gas in pursuit of its vision
and when the vertex is reached
the engine will hum a sigh of achievement
and descend with a falcons grace
and land with practiced precision
and as the spectacle wraps up
the audience will clap beneath
a victory screech
the brake's supportive contribution
Poems About Dirt Bikes
My name is James Philip Saunders and these are my dirt bike poems.
9.30.2012
i have felt
the dusk of life
scrape deeply in
my skin's surface
as death attempted
his harrowing blow
when i fell off my bike
on rugged pavement
blood streaked sideways
on highway eight
like a crayon rubbed hard
on an old tombstone
i felt my eyes
begin to weep
my consciousness sank
into the deep unknown
life did not flash
before my eyes
it filled all my senses
in a mashed potato blur
i rocked old stunts,
and not just on bikes
i also remembered
the stunts of life
my fork launched sick wheelies
over grandma's apple pie
my ears did a stoppie
as uncle joe's stereo played a zz top song
memories gunned sharp corners
through my bleeding head
like bikes in a thrilling race
as i orbited death
i soon came to
on the highway's side
memories still swirled
in the robin's egg sky
but i knew i was alive
9.11.2012
the mild might
of sleeping giants
hinted at in the cracks
of the desert dirt
the arizona air
whistles aggresive tunes
as the wind whips up
the rider's shirt
a dust storm blights
the greying horizon
as the rider's eyes
beam a wild glance
he licks his chops
and kicks the kickstand
guns it fervorously
to his heart beat's dance
8.30.2012
6.09.2012
pellets of rain
pop softly against the
stale earth
rejuvinating the soil
into mud
it froths like latte milk
and spreads over the surface
of the arizona desert
a headlight beam
smeared
in the distance
its ray choked
by the wet air
a diminutive candle
meanwhile
the rider's hair is matted
fresh mud finds its way into the helmet
the motor purrs defiantly
and blazes through
the pellets of rain
they pop loudly against
the accelerating dirt bike's frame
5.31.2012
zig zag
the motion of a bike
rocking down the wicked
hillside
barely in control
or barely out of it
one way or another
this will end
in mud and blood
hearts palpitate
in anticipation
the rider is thrown
the audience pays
a tithe of one gasp apiece
now
mud meets blood
bones crackle
like gnawed through electric wire
or AM radio
the rider crumples
in the muddy pit
a standard sacrifice
in the house of the
dirtbike holy
whispering fumes
spell out “L E A K A G E”
the gas tank reflects
a subdued rainbow
which twists around its
strange shaped surface
the mechanic feels around
like a blind expert reading braille
he finds the leakage
plugs it with a special glue
the motor is healed
but still wet with the blood
of its former wound
which it wears like a badge
the sun sets on the motor
casting a pale maroon
it dries in the night heat
5.28.2012
sun like a spur
spinning in the air
as the motor purrs
like a cat with warm milk
humidity 80%
but the soil is a crisp contrast
like a fresh brillo pad
waiting for the faucet's squirt
humidity 90%
i hit the gas
and the motor roars
like a lion with warm zebra
humidity 100%
i tear across the beaten path
and like a wet hoodie unzipped rapidly
water spits into the air
shaking mother nature to her senses
in the motor's wake
the rain pours down
...
5.26.2012
5.23.2012
5.21.2012
starry eyes shoot charismatic glances
across the angled course
wowing the audience
on the other side
the rider puts pedal to metal
propulsing himself through the angular scene
gravity defied
the rider glazes across a muddy puddle
turning it to muddy wine
chemistry defied
the crowd cheers in unison
the rider guns it once again
the crowd gasps collectively
christ, the rider, performs his dirt bike miracles
mild exuberance exerts
itself across my face
the sun dashes the clouds apart
and sunlight rains down
on the sparkling mud piles
a dirty day for riding -
the best kind of day
like a skier faced with a pure white slope,
i hit the course assertively
gunning massive mud clods
up into the arizona air
they decorate the ground
in new configurations
5.20.2012
spears of dirt shoot through the mist
a darkened cloud smolders
like a rumbling fist
pollution spouts like a volcano
from the devil's dirty bike
he beckons with a rotten finger
"ride with me tonight"
and like charlie daniel's before me
i bat not even an eyelash
revving at the engine
i hit the course fast
the devil starts up in the lead
but i am soon upon him
his peppery exhaust fills my eyes with tears
but i am soon beyond him
and as i crash over the finish line
and come to a squelching halt
the devil clenches his rotten fist
and summons up his vault
he throws the door ajar and wide
and reluctantly from inside
he pulls a golden dirt bike
now forever mine to ride
a darkened cloud smolders
like a rumbling fist
pollution spouts like a volcano
from the devil's dirty bike
he beckons with a rotten finger
"ride with me tonight"
and like charlie daniel's before me
i bat not even an eyelash
revving at the engine
i hit the course fast
the devil starts up in the lead
but i am soon upon him
his peppery exhaust fills my eyes with tears
but i am soon beyond him
and as i crash over the finish line
and come to a squelching halt
the devil clenches his rotten fist
and summons up his vault
he throws the door ajar and wide
and reluctantly from inside
he pulls a golden dirt bike
now forever mine to ride
5.02.2012
Gunning down the motor path
I came across another path
And being an adventurous young man
I wheeled across the dividing gap
The motor hummed, the tail pipe popped
The new path was filled with soil clods
The ground was raw and unkempt
And leaves of grass were lumped in knobs
I rode and fought the tepid ground
The motor whirled as it pushed the ground
I churned for balance with a steady frown
and fell down
down
I came across another path
And being an adventurous young man
I wheeled across the dividing gap
The motor hummed, the tail pipe popped
The new path was filled with soil clods
The ground was raw and unkempt
And leaves of grass were lumped in knobs
I rode and fought the tepid ground
The motor whirled as it pushed the ground
I churned for balance with a steady frown
and fell down
down
4.30.2012
10.18.2011
the motor purrs in idle anticipation
i rev it with consternation
dirt kicks out the back
i gun it and never look back
i paint an arrow across the land
an arrow of dirt and sand
always pointing forward
always pointing onward
my thick tire treads
make a dotted line
and the intensity of
my motor's gunning
cuts arizona in half
i rev it with consternation
dirt kicks out the back
i gun it and never look back
i paint an arrow across the land
an arrow of dirt and sand
always pointing forward
always pointing onward
my thick tire treads
make a dotted line
and the intensity of
my motor's gunning
cuts arizona in half
9.22.2011
the smell of gas
a wild wish
inexperienced rider
flops like a fish
he will be bruised
battered
heckled
scarred
he will see the ups and downs of plywood ramps
and piled high dirt yards
and when his blood has dried a thousand times
and the dirt flaked off his fifteenth fractured helmet
he will, in hard earned wisdom, command cool stunts
and collect the claps of an impressed audience
in his ego's vest pocket
a wild wish
inexperienced rider
flops like a fish
he will be bruised
battered
heckled
scarred
he will see the ups and downs of plywood ramps
and piled high dirt yards
and when his blood has dried a thousand times
and the dirt flaked off his fifteenth fractured helmet
he will, in hard earned wisdom, command cool stunts
and collect the claps of an impressed audience
in his ego's vest pocket
9.12.2011
the mechanic crossed his arms
and kicked a notch in the soil
he was stumped by the puddle of oil
the dirt bike sputtered
and the mechanic muttered
an epitaph to the dying yamaha:
she was a sweet bike
did some fine stunts
and though rocks dinged her up
and rust crept into her core
she gunned like a roar
she gunned like a roar
and the dead yamaha
twisted and shriveled
choked with vines of rust
clanged into the scrap pile
and returned to dust
and kicked a notch in the soil
he was stumped by the puddle of oil
the dirt bike sputtered
and the mechanic muttered
an epitaph to the dying yamaha:
she was a sweet bike
did some fine stunts
and though rocks dinged her up
and rust crept into her core
she gunned like a roar
she gunned like a roar
and the dead yamaha
twisted and shriveled
choked with vines of rust
clanged into the scrap pile
and returned to dust
9.06.2011
8.31.2011
8.12.2011
8.11.2011
it used to be that dirt bikes didn't ride
they were but a twinkle in an inventors eye
the soil was clean of wheeled stunts
and the air untouched by the motors grunts
in this time before dirt bike feats
dirt was kicked up by horses feet
behold the original horse power:
gunning through the forested trails
swiping their straw-like tails
preparing the world
for future dirt based tales
they were but a twinkle in an inventors eye
the soil was clean of wheeled stunts
and the air untouched by the motors grunts
in this time before dirt bike feats
dirt was kicked up by horses feet
behold the original horse power:
gunning through the forested trails
swiping their straw-like tails
preparing the world
for future dirt based tales
8.08.2011
8.05.2011
8.03.2011
8.02.2011
stunts accumulate
in the whetted world
riders come and go
dirt kicks up
and drips back down
and settles on ground below
though over the years
dirt bikes will change
in color and shape
sound and spirit
one thing remains the same:
a twist of a wrist
with a clenched fist
will always ignite
the motor's flame
in the whetted world
riders come and go
dirt kicks up
and drips back down
and settles on ground below
though over the years
dirt bikes will change
in color and shape
sound and spirit
one thing remains the same:
a twist of a wrist
with a clenched fist
will always ignite
the motor's flame
8.01.2011
7.25.2011
7.22.2011
i shot stern glances
across the packed stadium
and gunned great distance
through the beer soaked air
a hundred cameras flashed
like lightning in succession
as i soared toward the concession
stand, feet kicked out in the air
and as many motors hummed
an immaculate chorus
i landed my stunt
with a craftsman's care
across the packed stadium
and gunned great distance
through the beer soaked air
a hundred cameras flashed
like lightning in succession
as i soared toward the concession
stand, feet kicked out in the air
and as many motors hummed
an immaculate chorus
i landed my stunt
with a craftsman's care
7.18.2011
6.30.2011
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