Take it to a garage……
#1
She said she had noticed a pull to the right
whenever the brakes were applied.
My wife had remarked, and I felt it a slight,
that to fix it, I never had tried.

Of course, I had made every possible check
but nothing was found and what’s more,
whilst searching beneath I’d accrued a stiff neck
and a bruise on my head from the door.

It seemed  that my injuries offered no proof
of my fervent desire to please;
with sympathy none, she remained quite aloof,
though  I proffered up badly grazed knees.

To no real avail, I picked up all my tools,
a hammer, a saw and some glue.
and went to the pub, for I’m nobody’s fool,
where in drink, my anxiety grew.

It grew as I took off the  wheel with a wrench
that I’d borrowed from George, and my jack,
now  rusty from rain, on the outdoor work-bench
of a neighbour… it never came back.

It grew as I hammered to dislodge the disc
with a mallet I’d borrowed from Pete.
I knew in my gut that  it would only shift
with controlled application of heat.

I borrowed a blow-torch, the gas type, you know,
from a chap that I’d met in the snug.
After only an hour I’d got it to go
so I gave it full blast…and a tug.

It grew as the whole thing fell off with a clang
and a flaring of brake fluid lost.
Things dangled on brake-pipe where they shouldn't hang
…and it grew as I thought of the cost.

Well now, to the root of the matter I came;
with the disc bent and cylinder cracked.
If she said JUST ONE WORD, I knew who to blame.
(…and she always kept one suitcase packed)

With blood and with sweat and with tears for a day
I had strained; for myself, not a care.
Sans tea, sans lunch, sans a working man’s pay….

and the tyre just needed some air.

tectak.
uncertain date but around 1964. Neighbour's Triumph Herald story. For Keith. Those were the days.....
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#2
"I borrowed a blow-torch" Hysterical
thanks for posting it, good laugh
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips

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#3
(09-25-2015, 10:57 PM)ellajam Wrote:  "I borrowed a blow-torch"  Hysterical
thanks for posting it, good laugh
I thought a pull to the right would be more up yours Smile
Best,
tectak
Reply
#4
(09-25-2015, 11:15 PM)tectak Wrote:  
(09-25-2015, 10:57 PM)ellajam Wrote:  "I borrowed a blow-torch"  Hysterical
thanks for posting it, good laugh
I thought a pull to the right would be more up yours Smile
Best,
tectak

Nah, the left. Wink
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips

Reply
#5
(09-25-2015, 10:18 PM)tectak Wrote:  She said she had noticed a pull to the right
whenever the brakes were applied.
My wife had remarked, and I felt it a slight,
that to fix it, I never had tried.

Of course, I had made every possible check
but nothing was found and what’s more,
whilst searching beneath I’d accrued a stiff neck
and a bruise on my head from the door.

It seemed  that my injuries offered no proof
of my fervent desire to please;
with sympathy none, she remained quite aloof,
though  I proffered up badly grazed knees.

To no real avail, I picked up all my tools, Stopped reading at this point because of the superfluous word 'all'.
a hammer, a saw and some glue.
and went to the pub, for I’m nobody’s fool,
where in drink, my anxiety grew.

It grew as I took off the  wheel with a wrench
that I’d borrowed from George, and my jack,
now  rusty from rain, from the outdoor work-bench
of a neighbour… it never came back.

It grew as I hammered to dislodge the disc
with a mallet I’d borrowed from Pete.
I knew in my gut that  it would only shift
with controlled application of heat.

I borrowed a blow-torch, the gas type, you know,
from a chap that I’d met in the snug.
After only an hour I’d got it to go
so I gave it full blast…and a tug.

It grew as the whole thing fell off with a clang
and a flaring of brake fluid lost.
Things dangled on brake-pipe where they shouldn't hang
…and it grew as I though of the cost.

Well now, to the root of the matter I came;
with the disc bent and cylinder cracked.
If she said JUST ONE WORD, I knew who to blame.
(…and she always kept one suitcase packed)

With blood and with sweat and with tears for a day
I had strained; for myself, not a care.
Sans tea, sans lunch, sans a working man’s pay….

and the tyre just needed some air.

tectak.
uncertain date but around 1964. Neighbour's Triumph Herald story. For Keith. Those were the days.....

Only joking.  Big Grin  Passed my test in a 1360 Herald. Fond memories.
feedback award A poet who can't make the language sing doesn't start. Hence the shortage of real poems amongst the global planktonic field of duds. - Clive James.
Reply
#6
(09-26-2015, 01:59 AM)John Wrote:  
(09-25-2015, 10:18 PM)tectak Wrote:  She said she had noticed a pull to the right
whenever the brakes were applied.
My wife had remarked, and I felt it a slight,
that to fix it, I never had tried.

Of course, I had made every possible check
but nothing was found and what’s more,
whilst searching beneath I’d accrued a stiff neck
and a bruise on my head from the door.

It seemed  that my injuries offered no proof
of my fervent desire to please;
with sympathy none, she remained quite aloof,
though  I proffered up badly grazed knees.

To no real avail, I picked up all my tools, Stopped reading at this point because of the superfluous word 'all'.
a hammer, a saw and some glue.
and went to the pub, for I’m nobody’s fool,
where in drink, my anxiety grew.

It grew as I took off the  wheel with a wrench
that I’d borrowed from George, and my jack,
now  rusty from rain, from the outdoor work-bench
of a neighbour… it never came back.

It grew as I hammered to dislodge the disc
with a mallet I’d borrowed from Pete.
I knew in my gut that  it would only shift
with controlled application of heat.

I borrowed a blow-torch, the gas type, you know,
from a chap that I’d met in the snug.
After only an hour I’d got it to go
so I gave it full blast…and a tug.

It grew as the whole thing fell off with a clang
and a flaring of brake fluid lost.
Things dangled on brake-pipe where they shouldn't hang
…and it grew as I though of the cost.

Well now, to the root of the matter I came;
with the disc bent and cylinder cracked.
If she said JUST ONE WORD, I knew who to blame.
(…and she always kept one suitcase packed)

With blood and with sweat and with tears for a day
I had strained; for myself, not a care.
Sans tea, sans lunch, sans a working man’s pay….

and the tyre just needed some air.

tectak.
uncertain date but around 1964. Neighbour's Triumph Herald story. For Keith. Those were the days.....

Only joking.  Big Grin  Passed my test in a 1360 Herald. Fond memories.
Hi john,
I used to syllable count in 1964...shit, what happened?
Best,
tectak

(09-25-2015, 11:32 PM)ellajam Wrote:  
(09-25-2015, 11:15 PM)tectak Wrote:  
(09-25-2015, 10:57 PM)ellajam Wrote:  "I borrowed a blow-torch"  Hysterical
thanks for posting it, good laugh
I thought a pull to the right would be more up yours Smile
Best,
tectak

Nah, the left.  Wink
Sinister.
tectak
Reply
#7
Good Fungal Inspector ,

The moral of your tale ?

Knocking off some verse when left in a like self=kicking stall might be good therapy .

You grew well the travail and tension . And the deflator came unexpected .

Admired .

Respect jb aka hamlet13
Reply
#8
(11-07-2015, 12:17 PM)hamlet13 Wrote:  Good Fungal Inspector  ,

The moral of your tale  ?

Knocking off some verse when left in a like self=kicking stall might be good therapy  .

You grew well the travail and tension  .  And the deflator came unexpected  .

Admired  .

Respect     jb  aka  hamlet13

Inflator....surely?
Thanks,
tectak
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#9
Yeah, it certainly did grow.
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?

The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
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#10
you wanker...


i loved it tom. full of fun and nudge nudge. and surprisingly cohesive with a solid punchline. i wish i could remember stuff like this and read it out at parties while half tanked. almost perfect for fun. no, no, i take it back; it's perfect for fun for me this is one of your best works Big Grin
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#11
This is awesome.
Crit away
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