black saturday, Daily Prompt, poetry, thoughts, writing

The Black Saturday monument

bad poetry

She was an old, brown, F Series ute
Ford made it move when we sunk in the boot
302 Windsor mounted under the hood
In the wrong hands she was easily misunderstood

Sometimes she was moody and didn’t want to start
On a cold morning she’d cough and she’d fart
With a few cranks of the shaft and the engine she fires
We’d be off down the road, smoke coming from the tyres

Drifting through the corners on every dirt track
Leaving trails of dust three miles back
One day we pushed it a little too far.
The old 302 Windsor we really did mar

Out came the Windsor and in went a Cleveland
351 cubic inches she was warned by our hand
With 500 horsepower this old girl did roar
Ford gave her power but we gave her more

The 500 horses made the old girl more weighty
The speedo topped off at one hundred and eighty
More power to burn, the old girl would thrive
We were clocked in top gear at 225

With all the new power drifting just had to ease
The stress at the wheels kept snapping CV’s
Sick of the repairs and the ‘new car bug’ spread
The old brown Freighter was parked in the shed

For a decade or more next to the firewood she did park
Until that day in 09 when the daytime sky did turn dark
Roaring over the hills the bush fire couldn’t be slowed
Around the old Freighter the world did explode

Reports from the front line say the fire was hotter than hell
Our old F-series ute was reduced to an old burnt out shell
The frame work was twisted, the panels were welted
And laying on the dashboard the windscreen had melted

After 32 years the old girl had charm
Loosing her to fires was like losing an arm
She sat in the ashes until it was autumn
No longer mobile but never forgotten

The twisted charred metal still spreads goodwill
She’s now sitting upon the top of her own foothill
Black Saturday bush fires she does now represent
Our F-series ute made into our own monument


  1. May that old ute remain in our hearts

  2. Absolutely scored 100%with this poem! Loved it! It’s sad but is it true? Curious George

    • It’s all based on facts, the ute exists, the fires happened and the monument exists (as does the crazy driving) but the ute is not mine it belongs to our Neighbour but he was the sort of guy that shared anything and we drove the ute whenever we wanted to from when we were teenagers. Was the first thing I learnt to drive, the first thing I learnt to modify and the first thing learnt to drag race.

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