soltz
The Rat Captain
Thanks for all the entertainment all you poets 
Hot Rod Poetry
- Thread starter bob w
- Start date
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MercuryMac
Builder Junky!
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
I Stepped out of the shop into the dark.
Off in the distance a heard a coyote bark.
The night time animals were on the prowl.
From the tree line came an eerie howl.
I've heard it before.
For the little creatures a rough night was in store.
Looking at the vastness of the sky.
Couldn't help but wonder why?
Billions of planets, suns in the millions.
Here we are, insignificant minions.
What are the odds there's people like us.
Orbiting around in the cosmic dust?
Can't help but think that in outer space.
There's humans engaged in the same rat race.
Maybe there's hot rodders in another galaxy.
Wouldn't it be fun to look and see?
And what if in space behind high wooden boards.
There are junkyards filled with '32 Fords?
Enough of this silly night time musing.
I zipped up an went back to the tool I was using.
Off in the distance a heard a coyote bark.
The night time animals were on the prowl.
From the tree line came an eerie howl.
I've heard it before.
For the little creatures a rough night was in store.
Looking at the vastness of the sky.
Couldn't help but wonder why?
Billions of planets, suns in the millions.
Here we are, insignificant minions.
What are the odds there's people like us.
Orbiting around in the cosmic dust?
Can't help but think that in outer space.
There's humans engaged in the same rat race.
Maybe there's hot rodders in another galaxy.
Wouldn't it be fun to look and see?
And what if in space behind high wooden boards.
There are junkyards filled with '32 Fords?
Enough of this silly night time musing.
I zipped up an went back to the tool I was using.
MercuryMac
Builder Junky!
Right on Bob, now you're thinking.
I'm here to tell you, ---- there's not a very good probability of us ever finding a cosmic junkyard full of '32's out there. Sorry Bob.
I'm here to tell you, ---- there's not a very good probability of us ever finding a cosmic junkyard full of '32's out there. Sorry Bob.
smallfoot
He's rockin' the "Nuttin Special"!
Maybe not 32 Fords but I bet there's rat versions of whatever they had...hoho!
MercuryMac
Builder Junky!
I'm going to try once again to get a poem over here.
Nope, I guess not.
Nope, I guess not.
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
smallfoot, like the Ratship Enterprise.
smallfoot
He's rockin' the "Nuttin Special"!
Yeah, that's the ticket...
David Lohrman
New member
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2024
- Messages
- 3
Awesome love the poem
nice one Bob, nearly thought you were getting all philosophic there 
although theres something about the starry night sky ..
nice to see you back
although theres something about the starry night sky ..
nice to see you back
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
A Christmas Poem
On the first day of Christmas my Daddy bought for me.
A 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the Second day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Two Holley carbs sucking.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the third day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Three gallons of anti freeze thawing.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the fourth day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Four tires rolling.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the fifth day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Five golden blings?
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the sixth day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Six quarts of oil lubing.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the seventh day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Seven swans a swimming?
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the eighth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Eight plugs a sparking.
On the ninth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Nine miles a gallon driving.
On the tenth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Ten trophies racing.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Eleven tickets speeding.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Twelve years of Joy.
Merry Christmas everyone.
On the first day of Christmas my Daddy bought for me.
A 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the Second day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Two Holley carbs sucking.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the third day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Three gallons of anti freeze thawing.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the fourth day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Four tires rolling.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the fifth day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Five golden blings?
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the sixth day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Six quarts of oil lubing.
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the seventh day of Christmas my Daddy got for me.
Seven swans a swimming?
And a 1969 Dodge Super Bee.
On the eighth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Eight plugs a sparking.
On the ninth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Nine miles a gallon driving.
On the tenth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Ten trophies racing.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Eleven tickets speeding.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my Super Bee gave to me.
Twelve years of Joy.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Last edited:
MercuryMac
Builder Junky!
Wow, Bob, my oldest daughter, who is a writer, could almost write the same poem.
Her 'generous' Daddy gave her a Dodge Super Bee, [only it's a 1968]. He should give her a couple of Holleys because the old Carter that's on there is sucking air through places it shouldn't. It needs three gallons of anti-freeze. It has four rolling tires. There is a gold coloured rat-tail comb and two gold tipped pens in the glove box and a pair of gold looking hoop earrings hanging from the sun visor, [that I can't tell her the story of]. Except for the seven swans swimming and maybe some of the eleven speeding tickets, it's a slam-dunk.
Her 'generous' Daddy gave her a Dodge Super Bee, [only it's a 1968]. He should give her a couple of Holleys because the old Carter that's on there is sucking air through places it shouldn't. It needs three gallons of anti-freeze. It has four rolling tires. There is a gold coloured rat-tail comb and two gold tipped pens in the glove box and a pair of gold looking hoop earrings hanging from the sun visor, [that I can't tell her the story of]. Except for the seven swans swimming and maybe some of the eleven speeding tickets, it's a slam-dunk.
Attachments
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
Well that goes to show truth is stranger than fiction. I had to choose between the Super Bee and a 23 T when composing the poem.
I hope the members here got a teeny bit of enjoyment out of it. Your story is the topper.
I hope the members here got a teeny bit of enjoyment out of it. Your story is the topper.
smallfoot
He's rockin' the "Nuttin Special"!
I'm glad the dark part of my mind didn't play out in the last verses of your poem Bob..
Guess I've seen too much crap....
Guess I've seen too much crap....
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
I let the dark part of my mind get exercise on a poetry site geared for that stuff.
forbigpicture
Please stand by.......
26Troadster
Well-known member
- Joined
- May 22, 2007
- Messages
- 4,082
i'm not a poet by any means, but one i know and have known since a young teen. you can tell i grew up in the 70's and not sure where it came from.
leather ladies and lsd are all a outlaw needs to ride to hell and bare the smell to live the outlaw creed
a brother's belly full of beer a heart full of cherry soul he flirts with death as crystal melts and he smokes the wild wood weed
leather ladies and lsd are all a outlaw needs to ride to hell and bare the smell to live the outlaw creed
a brother's belly full of beer a heart full of cherry soul he flirts with death as crystal melts and he smokes the wild wood weed
bob w
Still crazy after all these years!
Intake, compression, combustion, exhaust.
Miss any one and all is lost.
Pistons, rods, valves and crank.
We have all these motor parts to thank.
They move us down the street or road.
Fast as an antelope or slow as a toad.
Thank all those dinosaurs that died.
Laid under ground and liquified.
Under tons of ice and volcanos that boil.
These prehistoric creatures turned into oil.
I wouldn't be so crass and rude.
To call that liquid gold crude.
A genius turned that crude into rubber and gas.
Now many eons did come to pass.
And rat rodders came to the fore.
Hot rodding would change for ever more.
Out of the primordial dust.
Rat rodders invented...rust.
Guys made their rat rods rough.
No more chrome or perfect stuff.
Rat rods started a new trend.
Street rodders didn't want to bend.
Often it could be heard.
Street rodders would call a rat rod, "turd".
But many came to the rusty side.
When they realized how easy it was to take care of their ride.
The spectators would stop and stare.
At a rat rod built with creative flair.
The $40,000 dollar paint jobs no longer cut it.
Most people couldn't give a...whit.
After all is said and done.
Rat rodders simply have more fun.
Miss any one and all is lost.
Pistons, rods, valves and crank.
We have all these motor parts to thank.
They move us down the street or road.
Fast as an antelope or slow as a toad.
Thank all those dinosaurs that died.
Laid under ground and liquified.
Under tons of ice and volcanos that boil.
These prehistoric creatures turned into oil.
I wouldn't be so crass and rude.
To call that liquid gold crude.
A genius turned that crude into rubber and gas.
Now many eons did come to pass.
And rat rodders came to the fore.
Hot rodding would change for ever more.
Out of the primordial dust.
Rat rodders invented...rust.
Guys made their rat rods rough.
No more chrome or perfect stuff.
Rat rods started a new trend.
Street rodders didn't want to bend.
Often it could be heard.
Street rodders would call a rat rod, "turd".
But many came to the rusty side.
When they realized how easy it was to take care of their ride.
The spectators would stop and stare.
At a rat rod built with creative flair.
The $40,000 dollar paint jobs no longer cut it.
Most people couldn't give a...whit.
After all is said and done.
Rat rodders simply have more fun.
soltz
The Rat Captain
Well said Bob! Even bare metal is easer to care of than that $5000 paint job!
smallfoot
He's rockin' the "Nuttin Special"!
Good one Bob! Couldn't have been said any better...
