Kathleen Johnson Billman “ChopprKate”

Road Scribes Of America ™ Lifetime Associate Member

Kathleen Johnson Billman  

AkA ChopprKate

 

Night Ride

the shadow prince
now sunset crowned,
is the new King of Nocturne.
his proclamation
is the dark transformation
of familiar to the strange.
ebony fingers reach
to capture mortal prize.
when too close to the ground,
a child of daylight flies.
from above you seek alliance,
the promise of the star’s defiance.
ride the night, cast your light
victory comes at dawn!

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

Foggy

riding blind, I’m lost in time
enveloped in a flannel shroud
imagination or hallucination
this thick as pea soup cloud?

riding blind, so lost in time
heavy grows my head
I wear the tension
a cloak of apprehension
the unknown surrounds me with dread

riding blind, forever lost in time
I taste the cold wet fear
and pray for sun, the ride be done
the sky once more to clear.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

I wonder…..

how fast do angels fly?
can they race the wind across the sky?
would they catch me if I fall from grace
and guide me gently back in place?
Always with me on the ride
keeping pace along my side.
Will I feel the beat of golden wings
give me shelter from harmful things?
Suppose I dare to shed a tear
will they catch it fast and hold it near?
Does it really matter why?
I question how fast angels fly.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

THE WIND, THE LEATHER, AND INK
Old Biker’s must be thankful
you know, they’ve had all those miles to think,
carrying saddlebags packed full of thoughts
of people and things that mean the most,
they stay tightly bound
by the wind, the leather and ink.
For who could be more humble
than one who’s felt such cold
that penetrates each and every pore,
the deep bone aches of growing old.
They’re the one whose heart and eyes
are full of grit and gravel
as witness’ to the new sun’s rise
in awe they’ve watched the colors unravel.
Taking on this road of life
they’ve traveled well in stride
a life that’s measured tank to tank full
God’s ultimate ride of rides,
with all those miles to think…
YES, Old Bikers must be thankful
to be bound by the wind, the leather and ink.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

Riding With the Pack
Of one mind
they understand
their machines
the road and it’s way
moving in synch
a beautiful dance on wheels
like wild geese in flight
laying staggered claim
sweet simultaneous leans
to an open lane

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

old leather jacket
battered and creased
the faded leather worn
past the point of no repair
the lining and pockets torn
I try and imagine
what it would say
about the cold winds
you kept at bay,
every line would have a story
of days gone by and former glory
every ready and faithful
until came that day
when no familiar hand
reached for you
a purpose well served
your usefulness through
cast aside like so much trash
hidden among the old belts and boots
is where I found you stashed
five dollars made you mine
and though I’ll never wear you
you speak to me of a time
and love from rides gone past
in your leather lines and folds
your beauty forever cast.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

THE WRENCH
By Chopprkate

most times he works while others run
he’s always in demand,
if your lucky, you’ll watch and learn,
and be prepared to lend a hand!

Strong and calloused hands,
that never come quite clean.
Like a badge of honor,
the motor’s black blood
upon his shirt and jeans.

Is his love any less or is it more
for these steel and chrome machines?
As skilled as any surgeon, mechanic’s intuition is a gift.
His world is pistons, cams, and tools
and getting that scoot off the lift.

So, remember next time you go down the road
all the hardworking people to which are owed,
the greatest respect and deepest debt,
the ones on which we depend to get
and keep us in the wind.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

Lady of the Highway

By ChopprKate (former Bikerpoet Laureate of the Mid-West)

With every mile beneath her wheel
she feels closer to her love
it’s wrapped inside the wind’s embrace
that carries her far and above
a world of disappointment and strife
her hopes and dreams keep her running,
searching for that perfect life
She’s a lady of the highway
traveling through this world
searching for her one true love,
who will love a wandering girl?
Leaning hard into the curves
she loves to smell the blacktop burn
riding the sidewalls, feeling the turn
under the sizzling summer sun
like some intoxicating incense
breathing deep, she smiles
She’s a lady of the highway
traveling through this world
searching for her one true love,
who will love a wandering girl?
She knows so many and loves so few
they know they’ll never hold her
casting backward glances of regret
over her tanned and tattooed shoulder
as she moves on to the next town
saddlebags packed, eyes fixed on the horizon,
she lays flat out and holds the throttle down
She’s a lady of the highway
traveling through this world
seaching for her one true love
who will love a wandering girl?
No matter how fast she runs
or how long, how far and wide
this love she thinks she never had
she’s carried with her deep inside
a light of unconditional love
that shines and grows
a little more each passing day
for this lady of the highway
traveling through this world
finding at last her one true love…
God does love a wandering girl

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

Give to Ride, Ride to Give
~by Chopper Kate

I saw the classified ad in the local paper
as I sat drinking coffee on a cold December morn.
“Bike for sale”, it said but reading between the lines
what it didn’t say was, “these are hard times,
no reasonable offer refused.”

I dialed that number out of curiosity
not that I needed another scoot,
but something about that ad intrigued me.
The address he gave was on the outskirts of town
in a beat up neighborhood,
where everything including the dogs looked tired and run down.
On the front lawn of a small frame home
with a sign that read for sale,
sat a sweet old Ironhead sporty.

It didn’t escape my attention, the beat up and faded toys
that lay strewn about the drive and yard
with childish abandon by little girls or boys.
Three blonde heads appeared in the window
as the curtains pulled back in a hurry
to watch as their Dad came out the door.
His face couldn’t mask his plight and the worry,
resigning himself for why I was there .

“I re-built her myself”, he said with obvious pride.
“It took a couple of years of buying a part here and there,
but the work I will guarantee, believe me when I say she’s a fast, mean ride.”
Then he kicked her to start on only three tries,
her throaty pipes shattering the cold morning air,
dogs all down the street began to bark and raise a ruckus,
an old man across the street frowned with a cold stare.

We talked money, and why he had to sell
after losing his job things went bad to worse and then to hell.
It was plain to see this family needed a helping hand.
Maybe it was that Christmas was just a couple of weeks away,
or maybe it was the little faces at the window
and how they looked at me that day.

I found myself saying, ” I guess I won’t be buying her after all.”
Disappointed he turned away, as the hope on his face took a hard fall.
“Hey now, wait just a minute son, I wasn’t through,
if your interested in a job, I have a friend that could use someone like you.”
He took th e name and number I gave, saying he would call that very day.
We shook hands as I wished him luck and went on my way.

On Christmas eve, returning to that small frame home,
brother Tiny taking lead in a rented Santa suit,
with a posse of biker elves, saddlebags bulging with kiddy loot,
and a feast of home cooked goodies to eat.
A joyous, thundering, holiday hoard arrived on that run down street!
The laughter, hugs, happy tears and little squeals of delight,
there’s not a thing in the world I would trade
for what I came away with that night.

Our Biker family just continues to grow
it’s the way we are, watching out for our sister and brother
we give what we can, pass along what we know.
Christmas to us lasts season to season
we ride to give, we give to ride
the brotherhood of man and love is the reason.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

Two Up

We share this seat,
small patch of leather and foam.
Feeling two hearts beat
wild as Gypsies on the roam.
Thundering through time and space,
troubles forgotten in our wake,
clasped in the ride’s embrace,
good as any love we’ll make.
In the light of day,
before God and all,
knowing without having to say…
I love you.
Four eyes..wide open to see,
the highway’s hidden treasures,
and the way life is meant to be.
Lean so close, warmth upon my shoulder,
brushing soft lips against my ear.
The wind gusts in vain to steal
the words I live to hear.

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™

 

Love On The Run
~By Chopper Kate

Sister loves a Biker man
She knows she’ll never hold him
He’s got wandering lust
All mixed with highway dust
And she won’t even try to mold him
Into something she thinks she needs
He’s got a wide open throttle on life
No time for a home or a wife
When that “Siren”
Highway calls
Sometime in the night a heart will break
Its widening crack nearly audible
Wrapped in his arms she won’t hear it
So close for the moment, as if one spirit they share
In the pale light of dawn, she reaches for him
But a handful of cotton sheets is all she can capture
A whisper goodbye still warm in her ear
Left with the memory of the rapture
And her highway lover on the run
No matter how tight she tries to hang on
He’s always on the verge of gone
Just a kickstart from riding away

© Choppr Kate

RSOA ™