Hot Rod Poetry

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bob w

Still crazy after all these years!
Joined
Jan 2, 2008
Messages
13,263
Location
Stillwater, MN
Here it is folks. Hot Rod Poetry- 2nd Edition

The rules are simple:

1. Tripper's rules for the site.
2. Starting now till May 1st.
3. Should have something to do with hot rods, or something.
4. Anything that can be construed as poetry is welcome. Need not rhyme. Need not make sense (like a lot of poetry). Can be funny, or not.
5. Long, short. Doesn't matter.
6. Don't be timid or embarrassed. You're not going for a literary award.
7. Post your poem(s) on this thread. No limit per person.
8. At the end of this exercise someone a lot more computer literate than yours truly will set up a scheme whereby voting will happen and the winners will be awarded prizes beyond their wildest expectations.
9. Pleas ebe the author of what you post. Obvious plagiarism will be met with a frown

E-man has volunteered to contribute prizes and I just cashed in my 401k to buy additional prizes. The number of prizes will partially be determined by participation. If you don't contribute a poem you probably won't win a prize.

I'll periodically post a possible prize to keep you all motivated.

So, unleash your hidden Poe, unlimber your digits, put your imagination in overdrive and have at it.

I'm looking forward to some funfilled reading.
 
For starters: A couple Hot Rod Nursery Rhymes

Little Miss Muffet sat in her T Bucket.
Eating her curds and whey.
Along came a Porsche Spyder.
And pulled up beside her.
And frightened Miss Muffet away.

or:

Jack be nimble.
Jack be quick.
Jack could really handle.
A four speed stick.

If I can post this, anything resembling a poem is more than acceptable. Don't be timid.
 
Here's my second try. Doc C. spliced the poem together nicely, for me and then E-mailed back. Thank you Doc. you saved the day.
 

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Glad to help, Mac. ;)


Combustion

It was missing a tire when the beast caught fire,
flames grew high while my heart raced higher.

I could push it out and let it burn,
but one tire's off and the wheels don't turn.

Junior was there in the smoke filled air,
blasted the flames and my smoldering hair.

The shop was saved, my son was praised
and the car lived happily after.


.
 
the grand old lady

She - a rusty hulk that sat outside for years
under vines of blackberry years of sun and rain
so sad she wept a million tears
dreaming of her past life love and polished chrome
lichen free and gleaming on a Sunday run
nobody cared for the once proud car
the people once stopped and stared
now walked past and didnt care
she, a lost soul on the out skirts of town
her wheels flat and way bogged down
it was of course hard to believe
that tatooed man who came to see
the grand old lady stuck under her tree
at first she sighed go away young man
she growled dont come close to me
he listened not and chopped and sprayed
he dragged her out, she, all forlorn
and scrubbed her clean on his front lawn
and he sighed and rolled up his sleeves
hammered welded painted and chromed
restored that grand old lady to her throne.
once again the people stared and watched her go by
she loved her new life on the streets again
because often theres a second chance my friends
 
Wow! thanks guys for your submissions. Really good. The early submissions have set the bar pretty high. But don't doubt your own ability. Throw something out there. The worst that can happen is we laugh at you. Just kidding.

For instance;
Mary had a little Lambo.
She also had a bear.
I've often seen her in her Lambo
But I've never seen her bare.


Here's a potential prize: A hot rod clock.
 

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another poem

When the internet was young, so many moons ago,
Our Tripper had a dream to let his passion show.

He created a forum site to showcase older cars.
The resurrection of old junk things into lots of stars.

Many people all 'round the globe sought to participate.
"Be nice" is all Tripper said as he let us through the gate.

We watched each others cars come alive, and were thrilled
And each guys work, tinkering brought forward his own build.

We joined to show our work, and for comradery,
Thank You Tripper for building this ratrod community.
 
He walked over to the barn, pulling open the big door
He couldn’t believe his eyes, the deuce coupe was all he wanted and more
Staring at the flathead, bias plys, and gleaming chrome
He couldn’t wait to strike a deal and take this barn find home
The widow haggled and made him earn the sale
And when time came to load it up his winch just had to fail
With all his pals help he got the hot rod loaded
The excitement of this find made his ego quite bloated
As finding this deuce coupe made him feel quite cunning
He hurried home to get his new hot rod running
Working on the car at home, he couldn’t wait to make all the other rodders jealous
He got the car going in record time and the first test drive felt quite zealous
The thrilling sounds and smells, rowing through the gears
He then woke up and found his shop filled with only tears
 
All great poems so far. Thank you to all the poets that have contributed. Keep 'em coming guys.

Here's a few more possible prizes. A clock that looks like a speedometer, the Clay Smith Cams Woodpecker on metal by Cornfield Customs and an Eight Ball drilled and tapped for a shift lever.
 

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Wow e-man, that's a fine addition to the prize pool. Thank you. Now you need to write a poem so you can win it.:D
 
ode to youth

it wasnt too much long ago
to a house warming i did go
the guy who rented the home
a party making his nieghbors groan
for a quite a bit too much liquor
he made his tyres spin much quicker
in this area lived a local cop
he showed up to put a stop
to the V8's roar, legs 11 on the street
meant the owner had to beat the feet...
needless to say not to long did he stay
least that how i remember it anyway
 
it wasnt too much long ago
to a house warming i did go
the guy who rented the home
a party making his nieghbors groan
for a quite a bit too much liquor
he made his tyres spin much quicker
in this area lived a local cop
he showed up to put a stop
to the V8's roar, legs 11 on the street
meant the owner had to beat the feet...
needless to say not to long did he stay
least that how i remember it anyway

[cl
 

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