Here is the poem I said I would write, Lemme know what you think. "Godspeed" Early in the morning, whether it shines or rains Gets up forgetting his aches and pains Full armor bearing, expectations are high He gets on the saddle, he’s ready to fight. When he sees the green flag, his engine will roar With a chill of excitement, that he soon will ignore Up and down the hills, down the straight or the kink He focuses hard, he won’t even blink. He has to push hard, he has to go faster He pushes his limits, to become the master They say that he’s crazy, he may be indeed But is just that our hero, if from a rare breed. His memory and honor will remain among Among those who met him, among those who he loved Fair winds to our hero, and following seas Have a good journey, Godspeed.
Thank you very much. Is funny though, 148 views and only one reply. What does everybody else think about it??
Great job! My girlfriend printed it out and attached it to a pick of me on the track and had it framed and hung above my desk when I returned home from Jennings last night. Good stuff man.
This touched my heart pretty heavy and it took me a bit to reply. We have seen that word "Godspeed" far too much the last two years and this brought back the "good" meaning of it for me. Thanks Clip!
Clip, if you dont mind, i'd like to print that up, put it on the back of a poster i have of Trent Dailey (rider killed at Tally in August), and then give it to his wife and little girls. *sigh* Great poem dude....
hey, I have one too. Macho men jest at me Please my lady dance with me For men with lust from dawn to dusk Fear where I tread where octane bread For not a touch for this or that can best the place where bugs go splat On visor’s helms where insects rest I assure you dear the place is best No woman’s lips can tempt this heart to leave behind the track for tart Before you smile, before you touch before you even think as much Before you lift you head to me before you think to speak to me Before you ask who’s blow job’s best I seek the place where insects rest Find my helm find my gloves I seek the place I truly love I see you brew a hating stew, wait my dear I’m not done with you Before you leave me from your grace, here’s a rag, clean your face.
There has been a pen change, on line 12, it now reads: But one thing is certain, he's from a rare breed. If you have already printed it out I appologize, it had to be done. I have the updated vervion at my website, plus it will be posted at poetry.com soon.
