Saturday, October 6, 2007

Bruce Arnold

Bruce Arnold, the editor/owner of LDRLongDistanceRider.com has written one of my favorite poems, I Ride Mine. He also has some related merchandise on sale here, including a nice wall plaque of this poem. Bruce along with fellow biker Ray Henke, the editor of Motorcyclists Against Dumb Drivers, team up on Bruce-n-Ray's Biker Forum where Bruce occasionally commits random acts of poetry. Poetry like this:

A Biker Funeral (dedicated to "Trip")


Sunday morning early comes
This sweltering summer's day;
Chrome and coffee polished off
As bike and rider wake,

And rumble off to clubhouse for
A changing of the brew;
Black vests in formation--fast
and tight--a loud tribute.

Iron horses, hundreds strong,
Come thund'ring through the gate;
Sleeping souls on notice, fallen
Biker nears his fate.

A mile of gleaming metal lines
The circle and the park;
Out of saddles, boots hit brick
And make for chapel's heart.


Members of the Club stand post,
Proud brothers in the wind;
Shaded eyes the tears disguise,
And loss they feel within.

Friends and family pay respects
To biker and his mate;
Praises made and prayers raised,
Blues legends resonate.

Final words and kisses, then
The pipes' Amazing Grace;
Souls of bike and rider seek
Eternal resting place.

Sunday morning early comes
This sweltering summer's day;
One more rider, Heaven bound,
Roars through the Pearly Gates.


Written by Bruce Arnold, 2004

1 comment:

the rider said...

This is good, your poem expresses the sorrow one feels at the passing of a brother, we recently attended two biker funerals and as we sat on our bikes on either side of the road at the entrance to the cemetary the tears were dripping out of the bottom of our helmets as the hearse passed slowly between the lines. The next day we were riding.