There is something special about the sun
At six o’clock the sun blinded me
in Soutpansberg avenue
and I opened the helmet’s visor
to find a way to see.
Still it’s great to ride
in the early morning with the motorbike
and to see something of the greatness
of God’s creation.
There’s something special about the sun
in a blue sky,
if it hangs like a red ball,
or even if it blinding catches your eyes.
The fresh wind that cut past
and at times pulls
as if it wants to touch you
and the cars and busses
that still has their lights on,
brings another atmosphere
to a morning ride.
The motorbike that feels
as if it’s alive under you
and shake and trembles
with bumps in the road
and the raw power,
that lies in your hand in a throttle
brings a sensation
of the wonder of existing
and to life on this planet.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Rain drive
I see a big storm
hanging dark against the sky
and lightning bolts,
that hit smashing to the ground.
There are big drops
that hit whipping down
and the black road
wet and somewhat slippery.
There’s no way
to ride away from the storm
and the traffic
stand still in front of me,
but with a motorbike
you can cut past cars.
It’s as if clouds of steam
rise out of the hot tar road,
but the screen
of the helmet
is covered by the rain
that I have difficulty seeing
to were to go
and which cars are moving or standing.
With Soutpansberg avenue that lies open before me
I open the throttle
and there’s wind, rain
and thunders that fall flashing blue
around me
and resound somewhere behind the motorbike
and the rain on my hands
hits like hail.
.
The leather jacket keeps the top of my body dry and warm,
but the bottom
is soaked and wet
and I feel the coldness
rising from below.
There’s busses coming from the front
that throws water whipping
as far as they go
and somewhere in the left lane,
there’s cars stopping for a pothole
and my motorbike catches speed
past in the right lane.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The new day started wonderful
This morning it felt
as if I was going to ride
into the red ball of the sun
while the wind
knifed strong past me
and the blue Honda motorbike
quickly eated up Soutpansberg Avenue.
There’s something magical and enchanting
to a rising sun
that is just hanging halfway
above the black tar road
and the colour of that red ball
still stays with me.
I drove with power
up the hillock of Gordon Street
and the rays of the sun
was at my side
and the caboodle of cars
couldn’t bother me
and the new day
Started wonderful.
We do not always realise,
how much we have to be thankful.
We are just too much set
in the here and now,
while the greatness
of God’s love
are all around us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The trip back
The sky is grey
with ominous clouds
that whirls and churns
and there’s thick fog
hanging like a cloak
low over the earth.
The visor of my helmet
is immediately covered
by the impact
of fine drops of rain
and I open it
to be able to see
where I am travelling.
At places I have to leave the road
to clean the lenses
of my glasses
and then the motorbike
again roars with power under me,
but I have only gone a small distance
when the cars come to a halt
and I have to twist through them.
Twenty kilometres further
I come upon the accident
that is blocking the freeway
just where I have to turn off
to Benoni
and blue and red lights
flash through
the fumes of mist.
I turn the throttle open
but at places
the fog banks still hangs low
and mini buss taxis, busses and cars
appear like ghosts in front of me.
At a place a stream flows
strong like a river over the road
and although I lift my feet
and open the throttle more
to give power to the motorbike
a four by four
passes over the middle line
and throws a wall of water
right over me
and if I can get hold of that lunatic
he will surely know it.
The helmet, black leather jacket
and backpack
stops the water,
but my jean
and shoes are soaking wet
and the motorbike eats the road
and somewhat frozen
I drive to get to home,
as if Springs
is just behind the next hillock
poem by Gert Strydom
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There are few things in life
I
There are few things in life
that will equate,
the freedom
that you get on a motorbike.
II
Speed and power is something
that can easily grab you
and maybe you can fetch the same
adrenalin rush
if you parachute
or go down with a bungi rope,
but it’s maybe better to be part
of a iron horse
and alone with your self
and with the wind and the sun
see the road flashing by.
III
Let cars stand in rows
and busses full of unknown people
stop at many places,
while my blue motorbike
passes them
and drive to my destination.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Grey land traveller
One day in summer
when the freeway is open,
I will take the Honda
and turn the accelerator open
until the revolution counter
touches the red.
One day I will see
what my motorbike is able to do
when I drive from here to Cape Town
with all the power that it has
and see how the speed needle
goes past the last mark.
One day I will feel
it roaring under me
and cut lightning fast
past cars, pickups and lorries
and speed will make
that it seems
as if I am coming out of the road itself
and I will be like a spectre.
One day I will really know
how much power my motorbike has
and will be part of the wind,
the sun and freedom
and the road will belong to me
and I to the road.
One day time will stop for me
and I might never reach the Cape
and will drive into the grey land
and maybe you
will read about me in the newspapers
and a motorbike
that lies in pieces for a distance of kilometres.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On the highway
I who have traded
open spaces, fields
and the azure sky
for crowded pavements
and neon lights
find my place
to meet the Lord
on the dangerous road.
I have found the sapphire sky,
the breath of wind,
the white-hot sun
on lanes packed with cars,
busses and trucks
of every shape and size.
Every thing flashes by
as my motorbike catches speed
and accelerates
and men in cars sit irritated
stuck in rows of traffic
and I bob and weave by
while life throbs everywhere
and death grasp at my heels,
l’Envoi
I feel raw power
throbbing below me
and experience the majesty
of wind, sun, sky
and the countryside
that rush by
and life is great
and in silence
I pray to the Creator
and when it rains
it humbles me
and I slow down
and am cold and wet
and know that I am
just mere man.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Motorbike ride
This morning it was dripping when I got up
and I wanted to say goodbye,
but I thought that you are probably still lying
and that it’s cuddly and hot
and that I am going to pull you out of sleep,
then I withhold myself from it.
It’s another thing to play Russian roulette
with the rain.
I decided to take the chance
and the road to work with the motorbike.
At places the road was still wet
and there where sand flushed over the road,
but I won the rain this morning
and opened the throttle
and the cool wind
blew strong over my body
and before it fell I stopped at work.
This afternoon I will have to play again
die the game with the rain
and I pray that it will fall later if it has to fall,
or I will be wet and cold
and it will be a hell of a thing
to get home.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Let It Ride
Moving like the fog on the Cumberland River
I was leaving on the Delta Queen
And I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
27 of nothing but failures and promises that I couldn't keep
Oh lord, I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Let it ride
Let it ride easy down the road
Let it ride
Let it take away all of the darkness
Let it ride
Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home
Let it ride
Let it roll
Let it go
Loaded like a sailor
Tumbling off a ferry boat
I was at the bar till three
Oh Lord, and I wasn't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Tennessee's a brother to my sister Carolina where they're gonna bury me
And I ain't ready to go
I'm never ready to go
Let it ride let it ride easy down the road
Let it ride
Let it take away all of this darkness
Let it ride
Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home
Let it ride
Let it roll
Let it go
I wanna see you tonight
Dancing in the endless moonlight
In the parking lot in the headlights of cars
Someplace on the moon
Where they moved the drive-in theater
Where I left the car that I can't find but I still got the keys to
Let it ride
Let it ride easy down the road
Let it ride
Let it take away all of this darkness
Let it ride
Let it rock me in the arms of stranger's angels until it brings me home
Let it ride
Let it roll
Let it go
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Long Journey
Motorcycling along
the N1 freeway
from Pretoria in the north to Cape Town
the flaming sun rises over the horizon
small like a ripe apricot
while its dimensions gets larger
and then tomato red
a little later it turns orange and like a ripe fruit
hangs untouchable up on the sky
and corn fields, fences and trees
fly past almost blurring
in the twilight sketched like pencil drawings
and the sun like a huge pit being spitted
crosses the sky
changes to yellow and then to white hot
and the sky turns from dusk grey
to bright blue
and later to a darker hue
and the hot wind bristles
as if with loving fingers
touching and stroking your whole body
and in the early fresh morning
you draw in at a garage,
make a pit stop, to check the oil,
to fill your motorcycle up
and have a breakfast
at a Wimpy roadhouse
and the smell of fuel
hangs in the air
and you find children there
looking with huge curious eyes
at your motorbike
and gazing at you,
as if a hero character
has just walk right out
of a cartoon magazine
and you remove your helmet
take off your leather gloves
visit the loo where a guy or two
looks at you and comments
on your motorcycle, your leather jacket
the weather and the road
and in the restaurant
the waitress pours a Mega coffee,
smiles dazzling
when she puts it on the table
with your breakfast of steak,
French fries and coke
and you can swear
that there’s a twinkling in her eyes
before she walks away
with a French plate swishing to and thro
and buttocks leaving a distinct impression
of female grace
but the sun is drawing water
and time is flying,
you motorcycle thunders alive
and you return to the freeway
where at speed you pass
cars, greyhound busses and trucks
and the road feels almost without end
right through the flat Orange Free State,
later the acrid hell hot Karroo
where you see grazing flocks of sheep
like white specks
and some windmills
flashing and reflecting the sun
on their huge spinning blades
somewhat like lonely landmarks
and you make some more pit stops
to refuel and stretch your legs
have another meal
and just before driving through
the last tunnel on top of a hill
dusk envolopes the world, the sun dwindles away,
the evening star is just above the horizon
and a little later star after star flies pass
like leaves in autumn falling from a tree
and you are free, almost at the end
of your journey
or maybe you are always just passing by,
travelling to a new destination
with the wind, the sun and sky
and some people that you meet on the trip
and sometimes you go very fast,
at other times almost creeping slow
until suddenly destiny causes the journey to end.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ride On The Wind... Forever...
I Want To Ride On The Wind… Forever
I Want To Ride Over Land and Sea
I Want To Ride on The Wind… Forever
… and I Want You Riding With Me…
I Want To Ride On The Wind Over Mountains
And Touch The Sky, So Blue
Then Raise Oceans, Like Sparkling Fountains
And Splash Through Water, Kissing You
I Want To Ride On The Wind… Hold Its Mane
Ride The Wind… Wild and Free
For The Wind – Will Never Be Tame…
So Hold On Tight and Just… Breathe…
… Ride The Wind – Let It Begin – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Breathe It In – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Blow Again – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Raise The Wind – Ride The Wind!
I Want To Ride On The Wind – In The Moonlight
I Want To Ride On The Wind – In The Clouds
And Wave To The Wings of Eagles in Flight
… then Float like Snow – Dancing Down
I Want To Ride On The Wind Forever
I Want To Ride and Rush-Up Rainbow-Stairs
I Want To Ride On The Wind – Forever
For Your Sweet-Breath Beckons Me… Everywhere
… Ride The Wind – Let It Begin – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Breathe It In – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Blow Again – Ride The Wind
Ride The Wind – Raise The Wind – Ride The Wind!
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Biker with the big heart
His heart is big,
so big as if
he can fit the whole world into it,
but there’s only place for two
on his motorbike
and while the refs
of the years climb
his life slides past
with a speed leading to a end
and the loneliness grips him
as his mate has been gone for a long time,
missed life
and wasn’t on time
for their last motorcycle ride
and now it’s only him
who are alone
in the saddle of life
and at times he still wants to open the throttle,
feel the wind flow though his hair
washing like a river in flood,
experience the heat of the sun
and feel the adrenaline
flowing like something living through him,
but the road is far too long
and the end stays distant
as he doesn’t reach the intersection
of life and death
and his love and melancholy remains
and the biker always drives on
searching for answers
that doesn’t exist.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ride Cowboy Ride
Up in the morning at the break of day
You'll hear a big bearded cowboy at the chuck wagon say
"Gather 'round boys, the coffee's hot on the fire
There's a full day of branding, we're heating the iron
I want to smell that scorched hair and burning hide
The horses have grain boys, they're ready to ride
Roll up your bed rolls and jump in your boots
Daylight is a-wastin', boys, it's out of the shoots"
Come on and ride, cowboy, ride
Roll up your riatas and pull your sombreros down tight
We're going to ride, ride, ride where the trail will wind
You'd better drive, drive, drive or we'll leave you behind
Come on and ride, ride, ride, cowboy, ride
It's a beautiful morning and you've had a good rest
You ropers get ready to be at your best
Saddle them ponies and tighten the cinch (Yahoo!)
Pull on your gloves and take your hat off the fence
We'll take the cattle to market, and after they're sold
You can all let your hair down, get lazy or bold
Riding to town to find a lady or two
She'll take you by the arms and shake the dust off your boots
Come on and ride, cowboy, ride
Roll up your riatas and pull your sombreros down tight
We're going to ride, ride, ride where the trail will wind
You'd better drive, drive, drive or we'll leave you behind
Come on and ride, ride, ride, cowboy, ride
Come on and ride, cowboy, ride
Roll up your riatas and pull your sombreros down tight
We're going to ride, ride, ride where the trail will wind
You'd better drive, drive, drive or we'll leave you behind
Come on and ride, ride, ride, cowboy, ride
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ride
Chillin out from across the room,
I can read your mind.
Dont say a word I can see it in your eyes.
I need a change of scenery,
Blue skies gonna set us free,
All I know is you and I should ride.
[chorus:]
Come with me on a trip to nowhere,
Take a train, plane, or motorbike.
Dont care about your bags, well leave tonight.
Dont care about a destination,
Or the troubles well leave behind,
As long as youre here with me,
Baby lets ride.
Monday of another season, feels like rain,
Tomorrow knows itll belike yesterday.
Getting tired of the same old faces,
I been dreaming bout the brand new places.
Lets fade, check out and get away.
[chorus:]
Follow the highway of your heart,
Not of your mind.
And dont waste time.
Baby lets ride.
Lets ride.baby come on lets ride.
[chorus: (x3)]
Baby lets ride. [x4]
song performed by by Velvet Empire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Its Ok
Fun is in
Its no sin
Its that time again
To shed your load
Hit the road
On the run again
Summer skies
In our eyes
And a warmer sun
Its one for all
All for one
All for all out fun
Gotta go to it
Gonna go through it
Gotta get with it
Lookin good
Down the hood
Of a funky ride
On the way
To the tide
Just to tan your hide
In the shade
Lemonade
In the sun ocean spray
To get your face
In the race
Or lay backs no disgrace
Gotta go to it
Gonna go through it
Gotta get with it
Its ok to get out there and
Have some fun
By yourself maybe
Or else with a special one.
Good or bad
Glad or sad
Its all gonna pass
So its ok
Lets all play
And enjoy it while it lasts
Gotta go to it
Gonna go through it
Gotta get with it
Find a ride
Find a ride
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
Find a ride (in the sum-sum-summertime dit dit)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This morning I lock the cold wind out
This morning I lock the cold wind out
with a nice hot leather jacket
that I zip close up to my chin
and on the motorbike
my hands are almost frozen,
but my thoughts are with you.
While I pass a string of cars
I wonder if you are stuck in traffic
or already at work?
It’s as if your eyes are burning into my soul
and constantly you accompany me
in my thoughts
to all the places that I go.
As if I will somewhere leave the road
and you will also get off the bike
and in a coffee shop
will take my hands in yours.
poem by Gert Strydom
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This Morning The Rain is Sieving Down
This morning the rain is sieving down
while I drive my motorbike
to town to get a few things
in the shops
and I have to visit the Internet café.
The drops of rain is somewhat blinding
and my leather jacket is nice and hot
and the helmet guards my head,
but my jean is really soaked
and when I stop
it’s a great thunderstorm
with rain pouring down.
People walk with umbrellas
while some
with shopping bags above their heads
run to the nearest shelter
and here and there
a car is waiting for another to pull out
in the full parking aria
and I wish that the rain
will disappear for a while.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Car Sun Visors (Fun Poem 65)
Every morning I have to drive towards the sun
just as the sun is about to rise.
You pull down the car sun visor,
but it is always too short
and the sun gets in your eyes.
You cannot see the road ahead,
just yellow blobs before your eyes.
You keep blinking until they fade away.
One day I wish car manufactures
would road test their cars in the morning sun.
They then might make
the car sun visors a little larger
to stop the sun getting in your eyes.
11 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Silent In The Morning
My glance is always darting, when I stroll the avenue
Avoiding all the obstacles that terrorize my view
If you are here with me, I trust you to lead the way
When youre not I follow you, and always go astray
Silent in the morning
Suspended in the trees
Lunch time comes youve found your voice
It brings me to my knees
The volume just increases
The resounding echoes grow
Till once again I bask in morning stillness, I love so
The target that I shoot for seems to move with every breath
I tighten all my arteries and make one last request
Divine creation hears me, and he squashes me with fear
I think that this exact thing happened to me, just last year
Silent in the morning
You found your voice that brings me to
Silent in the morning
You found your voice that brings me to
Silent in the morning
You found your voice that brings me to my knees
I will not dismiss you, shelter you, speak with you
Smile at you, trust in me, hed like to brush you off, and Id agree
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cul de sac
At the parking
of the Ok-bazaar / Shoprite in Springs
a one-way street runs out
straight into a traffic light
that cuts a T
into two directions.
This morning the traffic light
is blocked
by a crowd of rioters
that comes from the right side,
from where I want to go.
The police block the road
to the left with a car
and some policemen walk along
with the uprising.
There’s a foreman, instigator
or head man
walking in front
and he hops up and down
and shouts something to me
and he comes straight in my direction
and it looks as if the devil is in him
with a crowd
of revolting barbarians following him.
Nobody is going to drill me
with bags of rubbish
and tree branches
or throw pieces of glass
in front of my tyres
and the light is red
and the rioters are half mad
and my motorbike has a lot of power
and its boss cannot wait.
The policeman says stop
but can hardly
look out for himself
and what about me?
I drive past
going straight for the leader
and give a lot of gas,
my motorbike
can cut fine corners,
although it’s past the back
of a police car.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I can not wait for two o’clock to come
I cannot wait for two o’clock to come
to climb on my motorbike
and to ride to the place
where the words of other poets
get life and energy
and bring bliss and burning beauty
and sometimes sincerity
or stark reality
as magic to me.
I cannot wait for two o’clock to come
to hear the words
of a master and to find something
in his thoughts that I can make mine,
as if it was buried in my soul
just waiting for the sun and rain
and interaction to sprout
growing green like a living thing.
I cannot wait for two o’clock to come
to read my own poetry
and to see what other
people make of it
and to know
if my words are truly
hitting their mark.
I cannot wait for two o’clock to come
and to experience something great
that makes life worth living
and perhaps for some time
to sit near the presence
of the Immortal One
that gives man the ability
to turn words into the magic
that life aught to be.
poem by Gert Strydom
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