Best Ford Poems
MY OLD FORD
I once had a '50 Ford
I bought it just because I was bored
It had been setting in a farmer's field
Where it had stopped and wouldn't yield
I hooked it behind Pa's old pickup truck
And out across the field I struck
Headed for the shade-tree mechanic's house
Knowing he would cuss and grouse
I parked this junk heap in his yard
He grumbled and sputtered long and hard
But went to work on it with skillful cunning
Certain that he could get it running
Get it running is what he did
I tell you, I nearly flipped my lid
My friends and I, all that summer
Rode the dirt roads in that little hummer
Until one day, it finally quit
And we knew that was the last of it
So I dragged it back to the farmer's field
Where it still sets and will not yield
28 August 2011
In my travels around....
from town to town...
I found sitting next to a tree...
a red truck for sale...
that looked like _ell!
a ford, nineteen fifty-three...
So I knocked on the door...
and wasn't for sure...
if they'd sell it to me...
When they answered the door...
they wanted more...
but I gave them two-fifty, not three...
I got it running at last...
and oh! what a task!
I couldn't wait to set it free...
Yea!! it's really fast...
when I give it the gas...
ask those cops who gave tickets to me!
The body's intact...
just one ding and a whack!!
I'll paint it just wait and see!!!
A New Ford
Dr. James E. Martin
©December, 2012
The lad had wished for a new Ford.
He found one he really adored.
But trouble arose,
With the one he chose,
He found that he could not afford.
A witty puppeteer of still creations
Wooden images of live emotions
Rubber, plastics, foam and paper
Strings, thread, metals and caper
A wonder boy of imagery
Son of inspiring father of vividry
Hands of a mathematician in action
Engineering of imagination in presentation
Emmy winner of citation
Man, full of life and nature's configuration
There once was a friend who came to play
drove along the motorway
got up in the night
feeling alright
drove off in a Ford Cabriolet!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
October.2.2014
My first car was a thirty-seven Ford
It would do all of forty-five when floored
The horn played Little Bo Peep
Had straight pipes on the old heap
Cops not amused as about town I roared
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Carol Brown's "My First Car" Contest - March 2012
'Tis a challenge fer the uninitiated to drive a Model 'T' Ford!
There sure ain't no starter, automatic transmission or GPS aboard!
To start it, you must select the magneto settin' and adjust the choke,
Then, at yer peril, spin the crank and pray that yer arm don't git broke!
There's a baffln' array of switches, levers and pedals to operate,
That take a heap of coordination to get the 'T' ready to navigate.
There's three pedals located on the floor - clutch, reverse and brake.
If you know yer left foot from yer right, drivin' the old girl is a piece of cake!
To go forward, advance the throttle lever located jes' below the steerin' wheel.
Press the clutch pedal with yer left foot - with experience you'll git the feel.
To back up, stop the car, disengage the clutch and press the pedal fer reverse.
Be sure there's nothin' behind you - you might hit yer mother-in-law or worse!
In an emergency, stomp all three foot pedals to avoid hittin' a telephone pole!
That'll bring you to a joltin' stop and provide you with a modicum of control.
Use the oogah-oogah horn to shoo chickens, cows and goats outta yer way.
If you slaughter a farmer's critters, you'll sure enough have 'ell to pay!
Now you know more'n you ever wanted to know about drivin' a Model 'T',
And you've gained this invaluable enlightenment and it was all fer free!
If you are foolish enough to drive a 'T' I'd advise you to drive with care,
And if I may paraphrase the Good Book - "Gird your loins with faith and prayer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
It is well enough that people of the nation,
do not understand our banking,
and monetary system,
for if they did, I believe there would be a revolution,
before tomorrow morning.
- Henry Ford, a corporate poet,
who didn't even know it.
Henry Ford satisfied the masses, we may all agree,
By concocting the venerable Ford Model "T".
He said, "You can choose any color as long as it's black!"
And he even tossed in a spare tire, crank and sturdy jack!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
OK, your turn Ms. Rix!!!! (Or anyone else who wants to join in
the Clerihew battle!!!!)
My first car was a Maverick ... like me !
With a fresh paint job, beautiful to see.
I passed my driver's test,
So full of youthful zest,
Then backed into a pole I didn't see.
~~~~~ ~~~~~
see "about this poem" for photo
* true story: one hour after passing my driver's test I jumped into
the car and bumped into a pole backing out of my parking space, marring
the brand new paint job.
for Carol Brown's "My First Car" contest
Francine Roberts 06/03/2012
There was a man named Rob Ford,
He ran Etobicoke Ward.
Now that he’s mayor,
He still can’t play fair,
Waging a political war.
Our whole fortune’s fee cannot pay,
For those pills you’ve put away.
Weight loss is a scam,
Your scale’s in a jam.
Just leave your office, okay?
Buses rarely have delays,
Just give Karen Stintz her way.
Underground is bad,
Makes us riders mad.
Just leave your office today!
“No bike lanes on roads!” you vow.
Same-sex marriage you’ll disallow.
Those rules you conceive,
Make you seem naïve.
Just leave your office. Right now!
Your platform promises more.
“Cut taxes!” “Build homes!” you swore.
Your dreams are unreal,
Your plans not ideal.
Come now, I’ll show you the door.
Hey readers, could you please let me know if you find this poem to be too offensive/what lines are particularly harsh in the comments below? Thanks!
Synonymous with my childhood
A metaphor for adventure;
If anyone could do it he could ,
His spirit never fractured;
He could beguile
with a whip or a blaster;
Or even with his smile,
Every tool mastered;
A Silver Screen Titan
Filled with sarcastic discord;
Each character an icon,
the unstoppable Harrison Ford.
My wife is a Registered Nurse
At 60, she still had "The Curse"
A Time Machine
Helped her come clean
But our Edsel is stuck in reverse
Meet Rob Ford.
A panda in this land.
The Mayor of Toronto.
A hero they have banned.
A servant of Toronto
and maybe the whole world.
A will as strong as iron.
A faith that has been furled.
A man who loves his country.
Who worked for greater good.
A Saint who smoked a crack pipe.
An average people's hood.
The leader of a city.
assaulted by the press;
Then kissed upon the lips.
when council was a mess.
A liar for our nation.
They cut him to the rib.
Exposing what is private.
The mayor had to fib.
Now rise up Mayor Ford.
Your wounds have all our names.
Your critics are of Hell
but your fans ignore the flames.
Your legacy is leaving you.
No council to administer.
But keep your faith as close to you
that one day your Prime Minister.
They all sit there lined up in a row
Not knowing when exactly when to go
Decisions are made on the image they are looking for
As the applicants mumble at the door.
Mommas got cash
Let those pass
The Agent said
Wondering if they knew how to play dead underneath the bed.
Here comes another one
Participating in the audition after getting some sun
Shez a factor the agent said and could be a fine actor
Take a picture with her in blood
And bet you bottom dollar she is not going to be a dud.
Two more come in
Being a sweet photogenic twin
And having what it takes to win
A prize which is the opportunity to hear some more lies
Maybe this is just something
Like a guy giving them a ring.
Pick up the phone
“I am alone,” she could say
About this selection process for a scene to roll in the hay
During this time when they know she is out of money
And reality states they are only there to be called honey
Having the only worry being ‘if tomorrow is going to be sunny’.
When asked to defend
Its for the men
They do state
Hoping a date will turn into a lifelong mate.
In this game where no one knows their name
One may ask about money
When the success is being a bunny
This is nothing new
In a profession that ends with “I Do”
Yes, no she is waiting for an answer
On whether she is the corpse of the principal dancer.
When she gets the green light to be in the dying fight
She gets pumped up with all the might
“How much should I show?”
She asks with a glow.
Just enough
the guys want to see your inside stuff.
Finally, they get cast as the damsel getting the gas
Ready to meet a monster with a dangerous tool
And not expecting to end up just body parts in a bloody pool.
It only takes a day and hopefully there will be pay
But if not, the picture taken could be considered hot.
Everything is fine if it looks good
Especially if the B movie talent has it all together underneath their hood.
Do not be worried since it’s just the character that is going to be buried
Then after weeks in the theater what will be sweeter
A shot on a magazine cover that begs for men to love her.
Soon the check will come
And it will be done
Once the payment goes through and she tells the one man in her life “I do”