The gate explodes—eight seconds, that’s the line,
A breath between the living and the thrown.
Lane rides the storm no stopwatch can confine,
His grip the only kingdom he has known.
The crowd becomes a distant, roaring sea,
Each buck a hammer striking bone and will.
He rides for more than fame or victory—
Some hunger only motion seems to fill.
Bright buckle dreams and neon barroom light
Can’t soften what the arena always claims.
The clock is brief, the danger always bright,
And glory flickers close beside the flames.
Eight seconds blaze—then dust reclaims the sky.
A legend rides; a young man learns to fly.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: May 12th, 2026 08:33
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by the 1994 film 8 Seconds, a biopic of the champion bull rider Lane Frost
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Abdullah123, Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Cinephile's Checklist.
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Comments3
I have watched bull riding since a child and am always thrilled and astonished at the courage of men that ride the bull. Well written it carries the excitement of the moment.
Matthew, “His grip the only kingdom he has known” really stayed with me. That line turns the ride into something far bigger than sport…it becomes identity, survival, maybe even purpose. There’s real weight packed into that image. Exceptional piece, my friend. Love the poem and what a film, too. Thanks for sharing. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Beautiful writing i enjoyed it
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