Sorry if there is a delay in responses. Sometimes life gets in the way. As John Lennon said, life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.
My grandad is outside
under the bonnet of his green
Morris Marina,
tinkering and fixing,
battered metal tool-box at his feet,
screwdriver in hand, spanner tucked
into the back pocket of his jeans.
I am eight years old,
sitting at the coffee table
writing poems and stories
and eating ice-cream from a pint glass
filled with lemonade,
my grandad’s special treat.
He turns the key in the ignition
and listens to the sound of the engine
like an orchestra warming up.
He switches the engine off.
Not quite satisfied.
He wipes the oil from his hands
and tries again.
Here I sit all these years later
different table, different notebook,
but the ideas remain the same.
The summer Sunday afternoons
of over forty years ago come back to me.
I read the scribbled page over.
Not quite satisfied.
I wipe the ink from my hands
and try again.
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Author:
Tom Dylan (
Offline) - Published: March 28th, 2025 07:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Mutley Ravishes
Offline)
Comments8
Young emulate models watched maybe not on the same things but on others. A poem needing rework just like an engine and still tinkering on both until satisfied. A great analogy in this poem. Lovely
Thanks for your comments, Soren. Really appreciated. I was inspired by my childhood, but also the poem by Digging by Seamus Heaney.
Here’s to sharing similar childhoods, in this poem’s regard 🙏🏻🕊️
That is so cool to hear, arqios. Thanks for your comments.
You’re most welcome Tom🙏🏻🕊️
You bring this metaphor to life. Great work.
Thanks a lot for your comments. Really appreciated.
I love the comparison as well as the nostalgia, enjoyed the read
As well as my own memories, I was a little inspired by the Seamus Heaney poem Digging. Thanks a lot for your comments. Really appreciated. Have a great weekend.
You are very welcome and thank you
Good write T.
Thanks a lot, Orchi. Really appreciate your comments.
Thanks for telling about Seamus Heaney's poem, Tom. My dad is a Dub so he didn't do much digging when he was in that vicinity!
Those sweet childhood memories. Beautiful evocation.
My mum is from Dublin. 🙂 Thanks so much for your comments, really appreciated, mate.
That's great to hear. A little of Atlantic blood flowing through the veins helps with all kinds of flows! My Dad grew up near Hanlon's Corner, before emigrating.
Wonderful words and memories Tom. I can remember tinkering with my first car back in the 1970's if we were going to go on a journey over 100 miles, I still have some of those tools. LOL
Andy
Yeah, my grandad was always tinkering, even if there was nothing actually wrong with the car. He also used to drive a Robin Reliant! Thanks so much for your comments. Really appreciated.
I was merely taught those defining words which you Brits and the Canadians also used, whileas certain my daddy used a fresh roll of Scott's Tissue in changing the oil of his mother's blue Chevy Nova. He was forever "tinkering" on some or other engine or device, the warning that girls whose dads were so capable were bound to marry men who'd never dirty their hands nor know how to repair aught...a suggestion which made me shiver. On that angle so deftly turned to propose, I can't forget the sweet poetess in our local poetry group who would write and rewrite so many times it left me nearly squirming. Lovely and so charmingly rendered with exquisite imagery and a delicious poignancy. Thank you so very much for sharing. I love it.
I know a guy from Tucson. We are always finding words that we use all the time, and to him sounds like something from Shakespeare's time. He likes that we call two weeks a fortnight too. 🙂 Thanks so much for your comments, Missy. Really appreciated as always. Cheers, Tom. PS, cheers is UK for thanks. 🙂
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