Rod Hatter's "Sincerely Spoken Illusions" Biker Poetry

Biker Scribes
written by Rod Hatter
March 26, 2012
Real bikers ride highway lines...
Roads that they have traveled...
Some are good at telling tales...
Make your mind unravel...
Many like to buy bikes new...
Wheels that they depend on...
There are some who build their own...
Their pride goes beyond...
Then there's those who now can't ride,
Sometimes life is cruel...
May be age, may be injured...
Yet they're still old school...
As all roll...minds aware...
taking in adventures...
Memories and lessons learned...
Many of them share...
The ones who write are Biker Scribes.
Their lines run forever...
Writing 'bout their ride's events...
Poetry that's clever...
When your down, 'cause of stuff...
Missing out on life...
Check them their words...
May just help through strife...


Note* Rod now has a chapbook of this and some more biker poetry available - His 1st Book "Lines well riden" coming soon! Feel free to contact us for more info...

written by Rod Hatter
April 9th , 2010

As my spokes do glow,
with a rotating glitter,
my worries, they leave me,
like unwanted litter.
the road is ahead
and it's calling to me...
relax, take it easy,
let yourself free.

Life's so much simpler,
with wind in my hair,
my mind just escapes...
I don't have a care.
My visions are now of
the world that I love,
from pavement beneath me,
to skies up above.

I take in the scenery,
the lakes, and the trees,
and feel like an eagle,
that's out in the breeze.
The curves and the hillsides,
give to my lean.
The city's behind be,
this place is serene.

The soul needs attention,
and this feels the need.
Out here's no emotions,
bullshit, or greed.
So when I go back,
to my life's daily stride,
I'll live for the next time
that I get to ride.

Now... live for the moment,
live for the ride...


written by Rod Hatter
edited by Rod 9-19-09

Here it sits broken hearted,
cause my timing is retarded,
used to have it more advanced,
then it kicked me in the ass.

Now I kick, but it won't start,
guess I'll have to get more spark.
If ignition does ignite,
Oh, thank God , I got it right.

When it takes me down the road,
can't forget the biker's code.
First prepare for the worst,
carry tools in case of burst.

When all else fails, carry wallet,
cause I may just need to haul it.
My brothers then will be my buds,
so long as I can provide suds.




written by-Rod Hatter
July 2002

The beer is cold,
the food is good,
but you must quit
while you still could.
You stumble out, up to your wheels,
and on the kicker place your heel,
lift for compression,
once more for luck,
and downward thrust,
but "What the f#ck"?
First a puff,
and then a gasp,
but wait, it starts,
and there's a blast.
The passer-bys look on with wonder,
while you just grin about the thunder.
You know your pipes are not that loud,
It was your fart that awed this crowd.

Mothers are Special
written by Rod Hatter
May 13, 2012
Mother's Day...
Mothers are special...They share their love.
Some in their passing...become angels above.
While they are with us, nourishment's gave,
even when slapping you...saying "Behave"...
Teaching you manners, giving their all...
taking you shopping down at the mall.
Giving you guidance, sharing respect...
Really great Mothers...never neglect.
When you are clumsy...they mop up spills...
When you are hurt...they try to heal...
When you are down...they give you hope...
When life's a struggle, they help you cope.
They fight through life, same as us all...
Yet they still smile, and help when you fall.
My Mother has passed, I still feel her love...
I know that she's up there...Grace from above.
Keeping me straight, Helping me live...
Positive energy that she did give...
Thank you Mom,
With love, your Son...

written by Rod Hatter
April 3rd, 2010

It reaches out from deep within,
to grab my heart, so it can win,
a moment caught in simple pleasure,
comes from all it's hidden treasure.

It clasps my soul, now so entwined,
so all those worries leave my mind.
Now these moments fill with wonder,
as joy begins, my soul does plunder.

There is no time to give to grief.
As demons leave, I feel relief.
These moments are just full of life,
instead of worry, grief or strife.

It's on your face for all to see.
It mends my soul then sets it free.
This smile comes and tells no lies.
It comes from deep within your eyes.



written by Rod Hatter

Rumblin' down under
in wide open spaces.
Rollin' the highway,
with wind in our faces.
There's nothing that matches
the way that it feels,
when we're in control
of our two wheels.

We've been through some bad times,
and times that were great !
We've ridin' bad weather,
and stayed out too late.
We've calloused our palm,
with throttle in hand,
out riding the back roads
all over this land.

We're awful proud,
of those we call friend.
They ride right beside us,
through thick, til the end.
They share with us life,
and share with us beers.
Share with us laughter,
and share with us tears.

Along down this highway,
we've lost us a few.
Some that were strangers.
Some that we knew.
With no rhyme or reason,
or so it would seem,
but it was life's calling.
It's what their fate deemed.

Now, through our memories,
they ride with us still.
Our Guardian Angels,
who know how we feel.
They must be out riding,
in much better places.
Our visions of them.
show smiles on their faces.



written by Rod Hatter

Winter is upon us,
tuck the Pan away,
maybe we will have sunshine,
sometime before May.

Is all you get,
most every winter day.
It used to never bother me,
when our skies were grey.

Aging condition...
stiffness and aches.
This applies to both of us.
The Pan and I are both not young,
but live on...yes, we must.

leaves are turning green.
Sun is out, and flowers bloom,
things are stirring, and a movin'
you know it was never doom.

Check out Pan's tires.
Kick her over once again.
Take her down and fill the tank,
and take her for a spin.

Get up off my ass.
Life is now so grand,
and bitching life is in the past.
so quit yer whinin'...Man!


written by Rod Hatter

At 3 a.m. i wrote a poem,
cause in my mind it did roam.
I spit it out in such a hurry,
at 3 a.m. my eyes were blurry.

I'd been out all day, riding hard,
a poker run where we had cards.
When it finished, home did hark,
70 more miles in the dark.

We stopped, and we had dinner,
feeling like we was a winner.
Got on the bike, heard a shout,
that's when we found our taillight out.

Pulled the bike into the bar,
it's midnight, we're not riding far.
Frank, he let us steal his truck,
and said he'd give the bike a tuck.

Came back early the next day,
fixed the light, back on the way.
I've dealt with crap for many years,
but still ride on, spreading cheers.

The poem I wrote at 3 a.m.
had typos, and I am to blame.
So I made up this special rhyme,
reminds me, next, to take my time.



written by Rod Hatter
April 30, 2010

Was off in the morning,
the sun it was bright.
Went for a long ride,
and stayed out til night.

The weather was so hot,
all week's was the best,
so didn't wear leathers,
just Levis and vest.

Stayed out in the sunshine,
and rode hard all day.
As darkness approached me,
I headed home's way.

The darker the day got,
the winds they did chill.
A cold front had moved in,
to mess up the deal.

Along came some moisture,
the wind turned to frost.
A good thing the roads warm,
to offset the cost.

The ride home was so long.
My teeth they did rattle.
My joints, they were aching.
It was quite the battle.

Had shivers and shakes,
for the last 20 miles.
I pulled in the driveway,
and let out a smile.

I put the bike up,
and went in for the warmth.
Got me a hot cup,
and sat by the hearth.

I looked back and grinned,
as I realized my luck.
Today's ride was good times...
I'm home for the tuck.

Just have to remember...
that I'm not a duck.



written by Rod Hatter

Been off work for 3 months now.
Know I'll survive, just not sure how.
Living life from day to day,
isn't easy, when there's no pay.

Dig into my piggy bank,
grab enough to fill the tank.
Get out headin' down the road.
Clear the mind of heavy load.

See a bro who's off the side.
His urgency, he tries to hide.
When I ask, "Hey need a hand".
He says "Yeah, that would be grand".

So I pull off, "Let's have a look".
From fuel to fire, go by the book.
The bike has fuel, but has no spark,
check the wiring, getting dark.

Find a coil wire loose.
Put it back on, tighten noose.
He starts it up, then yeah, he smiles.
Then shares a ride that goes for miles.

Along the way we stop and chat,
of life, and rides, and things like that.
When he finds out, I'm unemployed,
our chatting runs into a void...

Then he says that I seem nice,
thoughtful, kind, "Let's throw the dice".
He says to me..."Hey, I'll just bet,
that hiring you, I won't regret".



written Rod Hatter

They'de ride up his alley,
their chrome shining bright.
Those engines would rumble
to show off their might.
To a kid barely 13
they were such a thrill,
"I just have to have one..."
is how he would feel.

Just a few years later
his dreams had come true.
With hard work and effort
and friends that he knew,
he'd built him a flathead,
a bike oh so fine.
For a few hundred dollars
and boy, did it shine.

He rode it on weekends,
he rode it to work.
He'd ride in the sunshine,
he rode when it hurt.
He'd go find his buddies
and off they would go,
and one time he even
rode out in the snow.

His second, a Panhead,
would go faster yet,
and once in a while
a few tickets he'd get.
For more than 3 decades
he rode, and rode hard,
and nothing would stop him
from wearing road tar.

So when you meet him,
aglow with a smile,
you'll know that he must've
enjoyed some more miles.
The bugs in his beard
and the dreds in his hair,
show that he enjoys life
no need to dispair.


written by Rod Hatter

May 2007

Went a few weeks back,
for a 400 mile ride,
The sputtered,
I think that it cried.

About half way up...
the ride turned to spoil,
cause the front pipe was
really spewing the oil.

It made it on up,
and got home again,
but had to scrape crud
of the plugs now and then.

I still had to ride it,
although it's a bleeder,
cause A.B.A.T.E. was meeting
with our legie leaders.

Right after that it
went to the shop,
and now my riding's
on a short term stop.

The shop it did call,
and my pistons are in,
so soon I hope I'm back
on the road again.

You take things for granite,
when nothing is wrong,
Than learn what it meant to you,
when it is gone.

So treat your loves right,
pay attention too,
They'll reward you always,
and love back at you.


written by Rod Hatter

Now and then, I hear a rumor
that most bikers have no humor,
but before you hold that thought
and get your buns tied in a knot,
remember noise that shook the rafters
coming from some bikers laughters.

Bikers rumored to be thugs.
Tattoos, beards, all deserve shrugs.
This is what some people think,
these rumors run us to the brink.
Kindness, manners, all good stuff,
most bikers really aren't that rough.

Rumor has it bikers won't,
shed a tear, cause cry they don't.
Now I can all but count the years,
that I've seen bikers shedding tears.
A loved one lost, or friend who died.
A child in need, for this they cried.

I heard a rumor that's not just,
that most bikers, you can't trust,
but it is those who spread this rumor,
I see now, as our life's tumor.
My biker friends I trust the most.
They give honor without boast.

So next time you meet a biker,
don't let these rumors be the striker.
before you know them, please don't judge.
Don't let life's stories hold a grudge.
You may just find you've found a friend,
who'll stand by you until the end.



written by Rod Hatter
Sept. 17, 2009

They talk of bad economy
on tweeters, news, and blogs.
We hold back from our spending,
so yes, there are less jobs.

they pound out their statistics,
and push us how they want.
We read all them there figures,
and hold back from our wants.

They slam us with their big demands,
like laws, insurance, taxing.
We just dig our pockets deeper,
complaining, but not fixing.

They need to take a righteous look
how good society works.
We need to not let them push us
and take power from these jerks.

They will be running for our votes,
again next election year.
We need to have some clear cut way
of knowing which ones listen clear.

They say they listen to us now
to everything "The people" say.
We must get off our asses and
expect accountability in everyway.


written by Rod Hatter
Oct. 22, 2009

Swap meet here, trade-off there,
in the old days, we did share.
Scrounging through a box or two,
We found parts, yeah, quite a few.

Keep them running was our goal,
these things just don't run on coal.
Sometimes had to scrape off mold,
man...these parts are getting old.

It was in us, to build bikes,
some were choppers, some were trikes.
As we built them, you could see,
special details to a tee.

While out looking, found new friends.
many of them on the mends.
We shared laughs, we shared beers,
we gacked knuckles, we shed tears.

In our hearts we felt the pride,
knowing that we built our rides.
Yes, we loved to see them smiles,
when those bikes would roll for miles.

Don't give up, now, pass it on,
teach our youngens, carry on,
Brotherhood is not forgotten,
be kind, share, now don't be rotten...

You may find, you passed along,
more than just some friendly song.
These you mentor, by your porch,
may keep lit, the Biker's Torch.

written by Rod Hatter
Oct. 11, 2009

Was going on a trip,
Pan needs attention.
clutches began to slip,
shifts hard, not to mention.

So put in a new set,
went out for a test,
better shifting, I did get.
to ride with the best.

While taking this test run,
going down Main,
cage turned, panic begun,
was hard to explain.

The road was ablaze
Pan's metal and sparks,
onlookers just gazed,
as I left those skidmarks.

A week or so later,
I woke up it seemed,
My head had a crater,
the ride I had dreamed.

The cager had left me
to die on the road,
EMT's saved me
my head did explode.

The ride I was going
is now in the past,
with stitches and sewing
I guess that I'll last.

For all of the grief
I can't blame the Pan.
I do blame the cage thief
who ran from the man.

to get back up on
My Pan, I can't wait
I miss it and so on,
and life's getting late.

Just in the wrong place
and at the wrong time.
Fate shows it's face,
with no reason or rhyme.

Pan has a heart beat
that heals my soul,
it rumbles neath my feet
wherever we go.

Pan and I have made a pact,
outside cagers we pay harks,
with more time to react.
no more skidmarks and sparks.

written by: Rod Hatter

Aug. 2006

Ridin' down the highway
sun in my face.
Bug juice and road tar
all over the place.

As my lady sits back
we head for the hills.
Both of us loving
how great the ride feels.

'Round the corner we go
into the trees.
It's just our luck
to hit a swarm of bees.

Ooch! Ouch! Awe!
We feel the stings,
down in the arm pits.
Behind her arms swing.

So down the road
we set up our camp,
and pull out those stingers
in the light of a lamp.

Both her and I
crack a big smile.
Just another adventure
on another good mile...........


written by Rod Hatter 12/8/2009

It's twilight now, there shines a star,
that gleams a glow from way afar.
Amidst the glow, within the light
comes faith and love, and all that's right.

The same star shone first Christmas Eve,
when Christ, our savior, was conceived.
A baby devine, faith so real
from in our hearts he made us feel.

He grew to love us as we were,
Respect and honor, will endure.
He taught us good and stood by us,
and gave us kindness, gave us trust.

Ultimately he gave his life,
upon a cross, and with much strife,
so he could than rise up again,
and be the savior of all men.

So as I ride this road so long,
the star above me guides me strong.
I think about my fellowship,
and how some lives begin to slip.

I ask my heart, "What can I do,
to help those in need make it through?"
The way that someone has helped me,
and gave me hope, and made me see.

By giving prayers, hope and support.
Showing kindness, not falling short.
Through charity, fellowship does grow.
The guiding star will always glow.



written by Rod Hatter
Oct. 21, 2009

Now I lay the kickstand down.
Plant my boots flat on the ground.
As I gaze up in the sky,
my mind begins to wonder...why?

Why, when life just seems so grand,
does this bullshit... kick up sand?
Why, when people seem so nice?
Is it fate that throws the dice?

Why is my friend lying here,
upon this pavement oh so near?
Why the asshole cager fled,
as my friend's life hangs... by a thread?

Why it seems that life's not fair,
when there is much, life can spare?
Why can't people be more kind?
instead they just say... nevermind.

Why does it now... take so long,
for help to hurry, get along?
This crash, no, it's not over,
I pray my friend... he will recover.

To the cager, hit and run,
I pray you didn't find this fun...
I hope that you beleive in Karma,
Cause your life is now a drama.


I use my poetry to let out my feelings while always knowing that you cannot let life get you down. Here's wishing you all the best that life has to offer. Keep it in the sun! Hope to see you out on the road...,







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