Hot Rod Poetry

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Thanks Crate. Good poem.

Old King Cole had a Kia Soul
And a Kia Soul had he.
He called for his Chevy
It was fun to drive
Cuz it had three on the tree.

More prize possibilities. There are quite a few hot rod books to pick from.
 

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Don't hold back, guys.

Forty years ago, every beautiful spring
My buddy and I would go on a car hunting fling.

We'd drive down a little country road.
Hoping to find an antique car lode.

into a run-down farm yard we'd turn.
It wasn't abandoned we were shocked learn.

There was hay in the house, a mangy mutt that was thin.
Out in the tree line I saw what could be vintage tin.

Out of the barn basement came a crazy old farmer.
His toothless wife was sure not a charmer.

We asked if he had any old cars we could see.
He said there's bunch of 'em out by that tree.

The farmer and us went out there to look at his stuff.
There were A's and T's but they were pretty rough.

We figured we could get the pile for a song.
But the farmer was crafty, boy were we wrong.

Fellas, it will cost you a bundle of cash.
If you expect me to sell you my old car stash.

The cars are all priceless I ain't no fool.
I seen 'em on eBay so let me take you to school.

He looked at us and said with his eyes full of mirth.
"The older they get, the more they are worth".
 
Mac, there's some real life experience behind that poem. E-man, you can do it. How about a short story, anyone?

It was a cool, breezy Fall day.
I was on a long walk with my old dog, Ray.

We were on a path, a road less traveled.
It wove and it weaved, it wasn't even graveled.

Over a rise there was a great tree.
And a rusty old coupe that beckoned to me.

I stood there stunned and the coupe seemed to whisper.
Come talk to me, I'm sure lonely mister.

There was a full flathead in the ratty old Deuce.
The coupe said to me I wish I was loose.

The young man that built me, Uncle Sam called him away.
I was sure he'd come back some bright, sunny day.
But alas around me the old garage did decay.

I did my best to keep in trim.
But my tires went flat, right down to the rim.

A wrecker came, I thought there was hope.
Til it dumped me by this craggy old Oak.

The years were unkind, but I never gave up.
That my young hot rodder would some day show up.

With tears in my eyes I said, don't despair.
I'll save you, I'll love you, you'll be in good repair.

It was my Dad that built you, you see.
You wouldn't have been abandoned by that big, old Oak tree.

A sub sank Dad's ship while he was at sea.
He died out there to protect you and me..
 
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Tres Poets

Three contributors. E-man and I have more prizes that that. What have you got to lose? The worst that can happen is you'll be mocked and ridiculed.[ddd

Don't be intimidated by my excellent poetry (ahem):cool: I'm not in the contest. Just demonstrating how easy it is.

As an added incentive here's an Air Tool Hanger made by our own famous Old Iron. Certainly a collectable if I've ever seen one.[cl
 

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There was a somewhat old woman who lived in a shoe.(what?)
Had so many children she didn't know what to do.(foolin' around, eh?)

She got a big van that was really quite ratty.
Til she installed a big blown five hundred inch Caddy.

The kiddies all loved to ride it to school.
Mom was a lead foot, they thought that was cool.

One day at a stop light a new 'Vette on her right.
Was revving his engine, looking for a fight.

The little (somewhat) old lady in her hopped up old van.
Blew the 'Vette's doors off, humiliated the man.

You see whenever Mama got the street racing itch.
She would nail it to the wood and hit the nitrous switch.
 
Im with Bob on this you see

be great to read acres more poetry

a huge yard sale of the stuff

loads of tales of cranky old cars

or finds, drags and triple carbs

stories of youth made bigger with age

Oh - fishing trips ! - i have one to tell

one that got away, snapped my rod as well !

Ma's home made treats, summers by the river

drive in movies was her name Heather?

lipstick in places ​best left unsaid

or surfing at the beach head first in the sand

a shellfish delight under my hand

despite a sore neck did we feast that night

a silver lining to that nasty fright.

try a limerick or Japanese Haiku

a story doesnt need to be true

they may not take long to write .

or you could be up half the night

for 'tis entertainment we want

does not need to rhyme be funny or sad

please add something make us glad

should a picture be posted a subject of the week?

dont be afraid to write -you may be proud

put it to music blues or rock as you go along

who knows it could be a number 1 song

a hidden talent you never know you had

crack open a beer and give it a whirl

no offence but dont be a girl

BUt there are prizes to win !

that would make anyone grin

so support the fun dont be a ditz

cos im sick of writting this S***s
 
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Thank you, thank you, thank you crate. Finally someone broke radio silence. A darn fine piece of writing too. Maybe this will get the ball rolling.[cl[cl
 
I been working on one from the beginning,
I just don't have a chance of winning,
It's taking a long time,
Trying to find a rhyme,
It's becoming clear,
And what I really fear,
The finish to a poem is not in sight,
Looks like I might have to stay up at night,
I'm not a poet and those are facts,
I got to get movin the poems due on the day of the taxes...
 
Deadline Extended to May 15

Thank you smallfoot for your entry. I like it a lot.

It's hard to make up a poem or short story out of this air.

By extending the deadline to May 15 I'm hoping some more members will give it a try.
 
I been working on one from the beginning,
I just don't have a chance of winning,
It's taking a long time,
Trying to find a rhyme,
It's becoming clear,
And what I really fear,
The finish to a poem is not in sight,
Looks like I might have to stay up at night,
I'm not a poet and those are facts,
I got to get movin the poems due on the day of the taxes...

Smalls how are you doing with the weather [S

And I like poetry [cl
 
Rusted metal. Frozen bolts. Missing parts.

Piece of history. Piece of scrap.
Piece of art?

I grab my creeper, and roll under the dirty greasy beast.
It's clear, what must be done.

At my bench now, I hammer. I heat. I weld.
The metal bends, the sparks fly, as I grind
my arms grow tired, the hammer strikes,
again. Again. Again!

More sparks, more heat! I feel as if I'm at the gates of hell!
My clothes afire, nothing left of me but will!

The sun is gone. I have one more hole.
To drill.

It's over.
I have won.




One bracket done.
 
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Drag Racing

Sitting on the starting line.
In my Anglia I feel so fine.

In the lane across from me.
A fella in a Super Bee.

He's a fast one that I know
This race is for all the dough.

Rev the engine til it's tight.
Hold the brake with all my might.

Well buddy it's just you and me
Staring at the Christmas tree.

We leave together, same reaction time.
The RPM's start to climb.

Into second going ever faster.
All of a sudden complete disaster.

Must have been a wild sight.
When my little Anglia took a right.

I was barreling toward the wooden rail.
The spectators began to bail.

With a heart breaking crunching hit.
The Anglia was shortened quite a bit.

No one was hurt except my pride.
Wanted to run away and hide.

My Anglia Thames suffered the most.
You could say it was pretty much toast.

I sold the parts and the dream I was chasing.
That night fifty years ago I gave up racing.
 
Sitting on the starting line.
In my Anglia I feel so fine.

In the lane across from me.
A fella in a Super Bee.

He's a fast one that I know
This race is for all the dough.

Rev the engine til it's tight.
Hold the brake with all my might.

Well buddy it's just you and me
Staring at the Christmas tree.

We leave together, same reaction time.
The RPM's start to climb.

Into second going ever faster.
All of a sudden complete disaster.

Must have been a wild sight.
When my little Anglia took a right.

I was barreling toward the wooden rail.
The spectators began to bail.

With a heart breaking crunching hit.
The Anglia was shortened quite a bit.

No one was hurt except my pride.
Wanted to run away and hide.

My Anglia Thames suffered the most.
You could say it was pretty much toast.

I sold the parts and the dream I was chasing.
That night fifty years ago I gave up racing.

That one almost brings a guy to tears!
 

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