For biker scribe Eddie ‘Sorez’ Pliska, poetry is as much about capturing his passion for the moto lifestyle and the raw energy of two-wheeled travel in prose, as it is about documenting determination in the face of the often-harsh struggles of life. He has had his fair share of both.
Here is July's exclusive piece, titled Nowherebound ... in Sorez's own words: "I was out yesterday, (rode a) couple of hundred miles, came home, and wrote down my experience. The poem flows as well as the ride did!"
We love it when that happens.
Sorez, who has a new book of poetry out now, has graciously agreed to pen some inspiration for the NYC Motorcyclist community each month. You can read more about Sorez in a feature NYC Motorcyclist published in the spring of 2018.
The wind was inviting today.
Almost to the point, of being enticing.
The wind was out there playing around.
Lifting up leaves and swirling dirt.
Could have sworn I heard whispers,
Right before my bike came to life for the day.
The wind knew that I had known,
That the wind was out there waiting.
On down the road I would ride
A couple of hundred miles.
To where stray thoughts subsided.
And the wind started singing a song.
At sixty-five in tune with my bike,
In concert, with the motor and pipes.
Started twisting the throttle hard.
The wind started to change its tempo,
Began to growl, with a howl.
For reasons unknown, gusting harder.
Giving me cause to slow down.
On the side of the road a deer,
Downed and being picked at by hawks,
As radar signals bounced off cages.
The wind had known, and told me so,
To slow down, and enjoy the road.
Especially when, I'm nowhere bound.