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Nowhere Bound
Lee Buddah Haverstick
On a two-lane blacktop nowhere bound
Low in the saddle and high on the sound
Of that deep throat rumble of my Road Glide
In need of the therapy the wind provides
Water color blue painted sky above
The colors on my back of the brotherhood I love
Worries left behind in rearview mirrors
A billboard reminds me Godís love is near
I meet other brothers with colors worn
With a handshake and hug another friendship born
A mutual respect for the patch we wear
And the miles left behind that brought us there
As the sun falls into Lake Michigan
I turn around to take the long way home again
I affirm today on this solo ride
My biker spirit will never die
As I pull into the driveway my wife is there
Ready for a midnight ride to share


At Times
Larry Scerri
At times we may not see eye to eye
Yet, Iíll always watch your back
To ever stand and take the blow
Should you come under attack
At times we may not part as friends
Yet, Iíll never leave you behind
To ever walk the road ahead
When life has left you blind
At times we may not shake hands
Yet, Iíll never be out of reach
To ever stand in Brotherhood
To practice what we preach


Soul's Void
Rod Hatter

My soul's out of time,
it sputters, and misses.
The spark... it is fading,
forgot now, what bliss is?
The fuel that I'm fed,
is no longer clean.
There is no fresh air...
so I'm running lean.
Logic is saying...
"I need a break."
"Take time to ponder,
for goodness sake."
Reset my timing,
go and refuel.
Don't just keep running.
Don't be a fool...


The Well Worn Vest
MarySusan Williams-Migneault

Old man ...
Your vest is well worn -
It has seen better days,
Like when it hung beside your bike
In the middle of the living room
The leather still strong and street black.
Old man..
Your steed has carried you far
Through wind and rain
And narrow pass roads
Hidden in winter's whiteouts
Or clicking and cranking down
While you both rested
In summer campgrounds
Beside rivers and hills
A day's journey up ahead...
Old man...
Your memories are packed
In saddle bags and photos
Of bike runs to Vermont,
New Hampshire and Maine,
While the horizon of Connecticut
Held you steady with traces
Of your Yankee family ties
And roads that brought you back
Again and again.
Old man...
Your life has twisted into knots
So much lost, never to be replaced
A mean streak fills in the spaces
Left by roads that just led nowhere
Rusting your chrome and stripping love
From your heart like a thief in the night
Old man...
You have forgotten



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