men don’t make cars (like they used to)

Another automotive geared poem.



Men don’t make cars like they used to do:

long sweeping lines, strong colours too:

such poetic palettes, rich array of hues.

Horns happily honked, grilles that grinned,

mudguard covered spoke wheels spinned,

engines growled – wondrous whirlwind!

Dial displays, walnut wood dashboards,

large leather seats with room to afford

– classic cars never leave you bored!

Our Sixties saloon six-cylinder growled,

brown Triumph 2000 like tiger prowled,

acceleration fast, Morris Minors scowled.

One day my dad bought an MG sports,

male madness, mid-life crisis of sorts;

famously, we five fitted in, of course!

My parents in hand stitched leather seats,

I bent in footwell, near mother’s feet,

boot and bench filled, family complete.

More modest cars purchased on divorce,

gone the grand engines, farewell torque

– replaced by brands of ill-report…

image: Alan Fearnley

View original post

Categories: Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.