05-28-09 - The Machine Poem - The Saga

Back in the Day when I did not know about scams (more on the ones that have touched my life another time,) I entered a poem that I had written for publishing in a book that would be cataloged in an annual compendium of poetry that would actually have a book # in the Library of Congress. Sounds too good to be true because.. It was.. They actually would use my poem in the book but in order to get a copy of said book I would have to pay $60 dollars for my copy. It was bad enough I had to edit my poem to fit within their word-count guidelines but then I was going to have to pay for a book full of poems I did not want just to see mine in published form. Seems the only reason the book existed was poor saps like me who gave them FREE poetry that I would then have to PAY for to get a copy of.

I told them that's alright, that was OK, I have a copy of my poem anyway.

So here from the way-back-when archives is the first time on the net copy of the poem..











The Machine

The machine worked hard both day and night
without a rest without any light
For a goal elusive, dark as night
That could not be reached try as hard as it might

This hardship went on as the years went by.
Not a day would pass that the weary it did try.
As hard as it tried as hard as it worked
Nothing would come of it, just pain and hurt.

A new year arrived and a new program inserted.
A new type of role, instructions were worded.
This new pace was better for within and without
but it did not last long, this new circumstance found.

Cast adrift and with nothing the machine still would dream
of an everlasting role, an end to the toil and steam
In the midst of all the turmoil, the trials and the stress.
A light arrowed down cutting through the darkness.

And out of the light did a dream dare emerge.
To the senses a fantasy made real on this earth.
The machine looked upon this and began to transform
Its tired and weary shape taking on a new form

Falling away from its sides were struggle and darkness
In the face of this light were all dreams reaching for this.
The dream stepped forth and smiled on the machine
The machine was mechanical no more but did feel and did breathe.

With a fresh teary eye and a new beating heart,
It reached out its hand and touched a work of art.
Enlightened from within, emboldened from without
It opened up its mouth and gave out a shout

The gladness poured forth and the dream it did listen
Made real here on earth among dew drops that glisten.
A new day shines forth now no longer for a machine
But for a smiling young man who has found his true dream.

Kind of flowery, but I still like it. It paints a nice picture and I can feel those words to this day. Nothing like a little adversity to make one wax poetic.

Life without adversity has no meaning and dies unhappy I'm sure.