by Mark Jamieson   She Could BeShe would be the proof in the pudding,
Once beyond the should not or shoulding.Ever always, that one stitch in time,
Willing and able, to save other nine.Her manner, sweeter more pass, than fail,
Forever never an old wives tale.Necessity, the best of intention,
Only truly, a mother’s invention.Ounce of prevention and pound of cure,
Lest ill wind, misfortune, there to occur.Too much cook, for a soup to spoil,
And the better, of tears and toil.Often silent, but all ways golden,
Picture perfect, like in days olden.She would be the proof in the pudding,
Allow herself a, perhaps, coulding.   Mountains YesterdayMountains yesterday, western Virginia,
Into West Virginia turning.
Clutch down, lean, look, lift, clutch up,
And again. Interest every turn earning.
Excitement, adrenalin, exhaustion.
Riding at the edge of risky.
Providing for years of stories retold
Over steaks and bourbon whiskey.
Today looks to be calmer, quieter,
Good surface road, little more straight.
We’re cruising Pennsylvania to Ohio
On the Highway Interstate.
A week of new places, hotels and maps,
This being the final section.
Now’s a chance for silent trip in review,
Or some in general reflection.
Thoughts, situations, problems, notions,
Newly necessary to address.
Standing unresolved issues,
Which need more attention,
And which deserve less?
Enough gasoline till about Pittsburg,
Maybe stop, grab a sandwich, too.
So much for lofty mental exercise,
Just hang on, and absorb the view.
Low clouds follow. Been chasing us all day.
Gaining, looks like foul weather gear,
And our first ride in the rain, this trip,
Not, however, the first time this year.
Heading home. Couch, clock, conformity, shoes.
Work, chores, watching television.
Intermittent rain drops on my face shield,
Momentary indecision.
The adventure will continue when bikes
Are cooled, covered, and parked inside.
With our well-travelled leathers, and photos,
We’ll have not finished with this ride.
Mountains yesterday, western Virginia
Into West Virginia turning.
Geography taught by motorcycle,
And other lessons worth learning.From Motorcycle Stories   Orange CatOrange cat, orange cat, what is it you see,
From this where you have chosen to be?Been off to visit the Queen, I’ve heard.
Duty and wisdom, a whispered word.Fine foreign places, and heads of state,
Early rising, and staying up late.Grand festive dinners, and caviar,
And fancy waiters, but here you are.Just then to visit, or here to stay,
In my backyard, this warm summer day,Where the tall grass meets deeply shaded,
And from my vision you have faded?Years of travel, four legs and a tail.
Careful, measured steps, rarely to fail.Cat of the world, and close to the ground,Tell me truly, what is it you’ve found?        About the Author:M.T. JamiesonM.T. Jamieson and his wife, Susan, live in northeastern Ohio with their rescued dog and two rescued kitten/cats. He is twice a university former student, and a Viet Nam Era U.S.A.F. veteran. Some of his poems have appeared in recent issues of “WestWard Quarterly”, “Pancakes In Heaven”, “Northern Stars Magazine”, “The Poet’s Art”, “The Poetry Explosion Newsletter”, “The Lyric”, and “Fourth And Sycamore”.