Motorbike Scrambling.




The thrum of engines

Lying in wait,

Jostle against

The starting gate.

And then, oh boy

The two stroke joy

As lions roar

From throttle's core.

Pristine engines

Shine the course,

With delicious note

Of petrol sent.

All huddle and muddle

At first breached hill,

Guilty excitement

Of that first spill.

Up and round, and down

They go

Like brightly tumbled waves

they flow.

With grit filled eyes

And muddy faces,

They sweep and swerve

To gain their places.

Excitement mounts 

With every gear,

Pulsing engines

Drown the ear.

With flag now waved

The race is done, 

Spectators chase

To see who's won.










Author's Notes/Comments: 

I went to my first motorbike scramble when I was about 10 years old, I have loved motorbikes ever since.

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