The Cyclist

On driving home last night, I saw someone riding their bike, dressed entirely in black clothing, with no lights, on the wrong side of the road, towards oncoming traffic. I was inspired to write the following poem.

Riding at night, no lights, dressed in black, 
Riding like a fucking maniac. 
Rider thinks they’re really skilled. 
Just a matter of time, until they’re killed. 
 
Jumping all and any red light,  
Giving pedestrians a terrible fright. 
But Jeremy Vine, and his like, 
Probably think this is alright. 
 
Riding on pavements, furious and fast, 
You can tell their life won’t last.  
They film every time they ride, 
Hoping to capture the moment they died. 
 
Using their phones, as they hurtle along, 
They don’t realise, this is wrong. 
Yet when Mikey sees drivers on the phone, 
He moans until the cows come home. 
 
The law may, and often doth say,  
Cars and lorries must give way, 
But think of the sacrifice, you must give, 
By slowing, being considerate, in order to live. 
 
There’s no protection from your Lycra tights, 
When you’re under their wheels, screaming your rights. 
Stop trying to get people sacked, 
Just because of skills they lacked. 
 
Don’t be selfish, don’t report every mistake, 
Else you’ll look like a dick, for goodness sake. 
Share the road, consider the others, 
It’s not just yours, my dear bike lovers. 

©David E. Gates – 2024

For more poems, check out Realm of Rhyme and my other anthologies, First Words and Unzipped – The Mind of a Madman.

Now Available – Written on the Road – A Collection of Poetry by Elizabeth Gates

Written on the Road was exactly that. A collection of poems written over the course of many travels, describing the highs and lows of life and love, family, friends, homes and the glorious countryside, as Elizabeth Gates and her husband, Eric, toured the country from Land’s End to John O’Groats, in their trusty Fiat campervan.  

Inspirational, sincere and sometimes heart-breaking in their honesty, the poems within Written on the Road are one women’s view of her life, experiences and the world “as is”.  

A beautiful and unique collection.  

Compiled and edited by David E. Gates. Available to order from here.

Coming Soon – Realm of Rhyme

My new Poetry Anthology, Realm of Rhyme, is coming soon.

Featuring poems, most of which are previously unpublished, including “Why Can’t a King Cry”, “The Queen”, “The Ode of Phineas Gage”, “Susanna M. Salter”, “The Mother of Angola”, “Mary Ann Bevan”, “Normandy” and “Remembrance”, plus many more.

Available for pre-order now from my bookstore.

Why Can’t a King Cry?

Since when, can a King, be seen not to cry?

For ten days in mourning. ten days passeth by.

He held his own, held his head so high.

 

On the day, of committal, into the ground,

Summoned every ounce of composure,

That could be found.

 

Laying his Mother, his Queen, to rest,

He did, what the British, always do best.

His duty, to that, he did attest.

 

Those watching close, they did spy,

A tear, that gathered, upon his left eye.

As he bid, his mummy, a heartfelt goodbye.

 

It’s easy to forget, as the angels did sing,

As the bells, out, they did ring.

The human, behind, our new King.

 

But in that moment, during his immeasurable loss,

All thoughts of his failings,

Right then were lost.

 

In that second, I felt his pain,

A pain he’ll feel, again and again.

Until the end, of his days of reign.

 

A newfound respect, I garnered there,

For our new King,

Our newfound heir.

 

Since when, can a King, be seen not to cry.

I wish someone…

Could tell me why?

©Copyright – David E. Gates. 19th September 2022.

“Normandy” selected for display at Army Flying Museum

I’m honoured to have my poem, Normandy, selected for display at the https://www.armyflying.com/museum from the 3rd November.

Inspired by the history of the army air corps and its predecessors from the second world war (Glider pilot regiments and the royal flying corps of the first world war). Inspired by stories of courage, bravery, and comradeship.

Alongside the poems there will be a mass art installation of over 500 knitted mini medals created by groups and individuals from across the UK and further afield inspired by stories and artefacts that are on display at the museum. All poems and medals will be on display for visitors to see at the museum from the 3rd November until 10th December 2020.

Other poems are available in my anthologies: Unzipped: The Mind of a Madman and First Words.

A Poem…

Some, it seems, just don’t get it.
They think they’re immune and ultra-fit.
But this thing doesn’t care who you are.
Hence its spread, near and far.

Cyclists on pavements, despite roads being clear.
Speeding through town, coming too near.
“Get off the pavement!” I yell at them all.
Because, quite simply, they’re not playing ball.

The rules are simple, but they don’t understand,
How to stop it, getting out of hand,
More weeks of lockdown, if you keep being a tool,
Going out for no reason, like a total fool.

You may be a carrier, and pass it on,
To your daughter, your mum, your dad or your son.
Do it for them, if for nobody else,
Do it for you, and your own health.

The message is clear, stay in, don’t go out,
The rules are to protect you, so please don’t flout.
Stop taking trips, for non-essential buys,
Or you may find, it causes your own demise.

At least if it happens, and you find yourself dead,
It’s one less idiot, to stop the spread.
So, do me a favour, don’t be a din.
Please, for now, just stay the fuck in!

©Copyright – David E. Gates 2020.

More poems and other stories are available in the following anthologies from David E. Gates, available from all good bookstores. And Amazon:

Unzipped - Large Format3D Cover - Cropped

World Poetry Day

It’s World Poetry Day today and, in tribute to this, and given the current circumstances, the following is my contribution which seems rather apt. For more poems and short stories, see my anthologies: First Words and Unzipped: The Mind of a Madman.

Corona

From China, Covid-19 its name,

Travelled west, and here it came.

Affecting many, making them ill.

It’s one purpose, seeming to kill.

 

Coughing, spreading, without knowing.

Events cancelled, no movies showing.

Calls for calm, as it takes its toll,

Morons stockpiling toilet roll.

 

Panic buying, hand gels and soap.

People dying, a loss of hope.

This virus, it cares not.

Though it hates the weather hot.

 

Take extra care, if you’re unwell,

And it will, be just swell.

Wash your hands, to stop the spread,

Else you may, well end up dead!

 

 

©Copyright – David E. Gates – 2020

Poem selected for feature on Poetry Soup

My poem The Ode of Phineas Gage is one of the poems being featured on the PoetrySoup home page this week.

Check out Page 3 of www.poetrysoup.com to see it.

I was inspired to write it after reading about the unfortunate Phineas Gage in an “On this day in… 1848” article on Friday 13th September 2019. You can read the bizarre and curious story of Phineas Gage on Wikipedia 

For other poems, and short stories, my two anthologies, First Words and Unzipped: The Mind of a Madman, are available now.

Vote for my book cover (Please!)

My book, Unzipped: The Mind of a Madman, has been entered in the 2019 Authors DB Cover Contest.

I’d really appreciate it if you could take two seconds to vote for the cover. You can vote by clicking here and selecting Submit your Vote/Review. Many thanks.

Unzipped - Large Format