Bob "Bikerwolf" Bryant Poem's

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Comment....
Bikerwolf is a Bro from North Carolina, yea, down south. He's a kindred spirit to me as I was raised in the deep south and transplanted to Alaska. Even today I spend a lot of time south of the Mason-Dixon line in Florida. Bikerwolf also has a link on the BIKER POETRY LINKS page. Check him out.

Lead Me

By Bob "Bikerwolf" Bryant

Asphalt Ribbon
Lead me on
Feed my desire
To ride and roam

Lead me down the back roads
Where dangers lurk in the woods
Often crossing in front of me
The rush of adrenalin sure feels good

Lead me down fresh laid highways
That are paved but often less traveled
Keep me away from some others
That are sandy and sometimes graveled

Lead me out to the four lane
If you feel I should head that way
I’ll ride with pride and try to abide
Try to keep the cagers at bay

When our adventure is over
Lead me safely back home
Until again you lead me
And feed my desire to roam

Biker Poets

By Bob "Bikerwolf" Bryant

Their life is lived on two wheels
They ride, they abide, they ALL know the deal
Another ride with a new days begin
Bringing possible moments to be released by their pen

Men and women compelled by two things
Riding and writing and the pleasure both brings
They scribe of everything between good times and bad
People, places, rides, and road experiences are shared

Words shared, puts their hearts out there on their sleeves
Written tales of the wind for the whole world to read
Words written with a passion about Biker lore
Written of loves, scoots, feelings, and much, much more

They write of Brothers or Sisters who have taken their last ride
They express through words, of tough times survived
They write of God, and about times they have sinned
Some great writes of parties, or the ink on their skin

Some have been writing twenty years or more
Some of the others, maybe just three or four
A lot of these writers I now call my friends
“Biker Poets”, they are tagged
Brothers and Sisters “Of the pen and the wind”

SPIRITS OF KIN

By Bob "Bikerwolf" Bryant

While riding through the mountains
Suns last light was drawing dim
Thought it about time to set up camp
Pitch the tent, and settle on in

I found a clearing back off the road
Shut the ol’ girl down for the night
Pitched the tent, then gathered some wood
Started a fire to get some light

I laid back on my bedroll
My hurting legs I started to rub
Then hopped to my feet and gathered the saddle bags
As I started a search for some grub

Grabbed the last of my coffee
Enough for tonight and the morning to come
Opened the last pack of beef jerky
As I chewed it I watched the fire burn

I had a feeling of spirits gathering around
But I felt no fear in my heart
I felt Indians, Cowboys, and Mountain men
Who were drawn to the fire from the dark

After a few tokes I could literally see them
Setting around the fire, with smiles on their face
I knew they all felt alive again
As they sat and watched the campfire blaze

They sat there content and silent
Hands out stretched over the open fire
I thought to myself it must feel good to leave their graves
But I had no way to inquire

So I crashed out on my bedroll
I left them with their own thoughts
When I awoke the following morning
They were gone but there was a note

I grabbed up the worn old paper
It said thanks for the hospitality our friend
We always feel comfortable around our own
That’s why we consider “Bikers” our Kin.