This funeral poem for a biker was inspired by a bikers funeral I attended some time ago. I was inspired to write this bikers funeral poem by the sense of family and belonging that the bikers shared with one another, and with the communal sense of loss experienced during the funeral itself. I've used the word 'their' a few times in the poem to make it generic, but this can be changed to 'his' or 'her' if felt more appropriate. - Dick Underwood.

Biking oil was in their blood,
Petrol flowing through their heart.
Throttle reving but the flood,
Meant their engine Wouldn't start.

The exhaust sounding rather rough,
Its noise as cutting as a knife.
The gallant spark not quite enough,
To fire their engine into life.

The key was turned, the button pushed,
Expecting now a biking roar,
But the engine ... knackered ... bushed,
Wouldn't function any more.

The biker (name) has died but still,
Their soul rides onward to the west.
Their wheels role onward, vale and hill,
They soon will find eternal rest.

So we'll mount up and onward ride,
Remembring well the one who died.
Towards the sunset on our road,
Our biker friend who's gone before.

Funeral poem for a biker

© 2010 Dick Underwood

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