Another Relocation?

Yes, I’ve relocated Songs of the Open Road again. Click on it to go there and then change your bookmarks please.


A Holiday Greeting from Chopper Kate

The Road to Home
Her tired gaze fell out the window
and ran with her thoughts
down the one way street.
This season of homecoming,
memories cascade down
from her eyes, down her face.
So envious of the families
she saw, doing Christmas things
together, laughing.
Imagining it was her family,
with smiling bright eyed grandchildren
who begged and cajoled
to open just one gift…pleeeeeeeeease???
Long ago, last parting words
his and hers, bitter and haste
stood like the Great Wall of China
between his life now
and the old homeplace,
where she and a stubborn pride
with a tired wet gaze
that falls from the window outside
and down the one way street.
Across the miles
he stands gazing out a window
down a one way street
and where it just might lead
his heart says it’s her he wants to go again to meet.
Pride and doubthad jumbled his reason
into excuses why he shouldn’t
make the first move to reconcile.
Too far and too had been such a long while.
What was said? Who was wrong?
Somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Across the miles from “home”
he walks to open the door
leading to that one way street.
One more cold Christmas dawns
too early she wakes up,
and it will be the longest of days,
as alone she sips her cup.
Through the window her sad gaze
leads out to the snow covered street.
Tire tracks run along it’s way
Who had ever comes out here?
That hadn’t been there yesterday…
Turning into her drive
right up to her door.
Shouts of Merry Christmas,is anyone here?”
“Hey Mom I’m home”
“How I missed you dear! Can you ever”
A house became a home once more
when doubts and pride stayed at the door.
A one way street goes both directions
The most precious of gifts are the love and affections
from family and friends that we cherish
and give unconditionally in return.
Merry Christmas 2007 from Chopper Kate and family!

Nice words from Kano

My Bro Kano over at Kano’s Coffee House-Motorcycle and Scooter Talk, has some nice words for this site and my poetry. Kano has some good things to say on many subjects and and his site is worth visiting.

Latest from Chopper Kate


It had been a couple of years or so
since I saw Tex last.
I nearly walked on by
when a voice from the past
spoke up and said. “Don’t ya even know a brother?
Bet you thought ole Tex was dead!”

“Tex, you look damn near civilized!
I wouldn’t have believed it was you
if I hadn’t seen with my own eyes!”
Two feet of beard and hair past his shoulder
all were gone now, cut and shaved clean
His eyes looked distant, a little sad and older.
A genuine graybeard, seasoned and sage
now looking more like some wild bird
held captive in a cage.

“I sold the shovel, you know I gave up the life.
It all came down to change or lose everything,
my home, the kids, my wife.
A man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do…”
His voice trailed off along with his gaze.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing,
I was confounded, left in a daze.

Over the years I’ve seen my share of souls
convert for one reason or another,
but I never dreamed Tex would,
My partner in “crime”, my old road brother!
I bit my tongue before I could say,
“Man, it wasn’t that shovel that made you lose your way”

It’s a choice we make, I believe.
When those “demons” seek you out,
they gamble with your soul
hold all the cards and deal the doubt .
A man has to be ready when they come to call.
It’s got nothing to do with riding,
not a damn thing at all!

But, I couldn’t even begin,
and as I watched his face turn to the wind,
I swear I saw as we stood there in silence.
a glimpse of my old friend and that wind washed defiance
as fleeting as the waning breeze.

“It’s been great and you take care! “
I slapped his back and hugged him like a bear.
His words they turned over again and again
like some troubling song stuck in my brain.
I rode away and he climbed in his truck.
Turning to wave, I yelled back “Good luck!”
It wasn’t much to offer that much is true,
when a man ‘s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do.
copyright 2007/chopperkatejohnson

When Bikers Come to Town

They turned right onto Main Street

On that hot and dusty day.

Thirty bikes with Thirty riders,

Why’d they come here? Would they stay?

“You’d better run and tell your mom

lock the doors and shutter down.

I’ve heard bad things can happen

When bikers come to town.”


I watched as they rumbled down the street,

 Chrome and steel, all dressed in black.

The reached the end, where three roads meet,

Then turned around by the tracks.

The paused and spoke  and seemed to decide

Then they slowly rolled  back  down.

At Annie’s Place they pulled aside

The Bikers put their kickstands down.


Most of them were dressed in black,

But when they took their leather away,

I was, I must say,  somewhat taken aback,

Many of those heads were gray.

And everyone was smiling  bright,

I never saw a  glare or a frown

I thought perhaps I’m just not right

About these Bikers who came to town.


I decided then to check them out.

So I walked  over to Annie’s Place

I saw  the two waitresses scurrying about

And Annie  had a smile on her face.

The I saw that patch upon a vest

It read HOG, Portneuf Valley Chapter,

I put my previous worries to rest.

It wasn’t my daughters they were after.


It was for Annie’s food they had made this run,

It’s a long  ride, many beautiful miles.

To them, the ride is always most of the fun,

But Annie’ s famous pie made  them smile.

So  I got on the phone and I called my wife,

I said,”Honey, just come on down.

Bring the kids, no need to fear for your life,

The Bikers have come to town.


Copyright 2007 Bill “uglicoyote” Davis

Two Poems By Bikerwolf

Bikerwolf’s Page

Brothers And Sleds
By: Bob “Bikerwolf” Bryant

As I sit here writing
Borrowing thoughts from my soul
Considering myself a middle aged man
Maybe a little closer to old

The thoughts create a cluster
They overwhelm my head
But with each passing vision
I see brothers and sleds

I see young men and old men
I see bikes old and new
I see lots of ol’ ladies
I see kegs and kegs of brew

I see jokes played on each other
I see attitudes turn bad
I see bikers when they laugh
I see em’ bow their heads

I see endless black ribbons
I see cold winter nights
I see full moon rides
I see some shit kickin’ fights

I see walls of solid concrete
I see bars straight and round
I see wrenches turning
I see brothers lay em’ down

I see brothers carrying caskets
I see those too short bike week runs
I see the life that I love
Living free and having fun

I even see the future
I see the good times ahead
I see myself a little grayer
I still see brothers and sleds

Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved

By : Bob “Bikerwolf” Bryant

A long haired young southern biker
Sitting low on his solo seat pan
Thought he knew all about life
Thought of himself as a biker man

But he really learned all about biker life
One night at an off the path bar
He busted in like he owned the place
An old biker asked “ Who do you think you are”?

Come on over here, have a seat at my table
Let’s put down a few
I’m gonna tell ya’ about our rules here
If you don’t like em’ then you’re just passin’ through

First off we don’t all need to hear you
Unless you have something to say
But I don’t know what the hell that could be
Because the first time we’ve seen you is today

You’re lucky that you’re still in here
Busting in all badass and shit
Just because you ride that scoot
Doesn’t impress any of us one bit

In case you haven’t noticed
The lot is full of Milwaukee iron
And the faces you see all around here
Well each one has earned those lines

We respect your enthusiasm son
Don’t mind if you hang out and drink
But don’t think you’ll run rough shot here
If that’s your intention, you better re think

Now you might consider yourself a biker
A loner I guess since you’re alone
But you just remember one thing
Around here, you are not known

But there is one thing that I do like
About your cocky assed way
Laughing the old biker said
You remind me of myself, back in my younger days

So go ahead and have a good time here
But remember to keep it real
Just check your attitude at the door
Where outside sits that Iron and steel

Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved

RoadPoet eMagazine

The Summer edition of Roadpoet eMagazine is now online. Check it out