Poem -
A New Dawn
Gone are the song filled days
of the butcher, the baker,
and the candlestick maker.
A new song rises from the
willows with its thunderous
kaclang kachug, kaclang kachug.
The song of the machine turns the
song of the craftsmen to shrieks of hunger.
Their hands ache for the tool
while their hearts wither and die.
The bolstering laughs from the boardroom
hit ears with a deafening slap.
Fat cats eating more than their share.
Slowly killing those they think of not.
Cold hard steel does not know of
the craftsmen predicament.
A new age has dawned.
The age of the machine.
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Comments
Yes indeed, you speak the truth Jamie, I spent 5 years working as a welder, and the 'new age of the machine' was always a pressing concern, I've seen certain jobs became obsolete very fast; saw it with my own eyes....you have such diverse content in poetry my friend, very interesting to read and comment on your work....not many poets ever consider the reality of the craftsman...... it's all about greed and production, in that world,  good for you to write about such a reality....cheers
 Cold hard steel does not know of
 the craftsmen predicament.
 A new age has dawned.
 The age of the machine.
thank you Christopher......I wonder how well people will fair when companies no longer need them.......I don't think many will survive.......... what keeps me up at night is the thought that they will be quickly shrugged off as a fix to overpopulation.........