Ludd and Me

 

In days of Yore, 

'Mongst rich or poor,

Were those who toiled, and did the chores.

Oft spending years, 

Mid sweat and tears,

To learn their craft, with all their peers.

A 'weaving' flood 

Was in their blood,

Professed to follow Young Ned Ludd.

Like Robin Hood, 

He may have stood,

‘Tween dread machines and livelihood.

These weavers saw, 

In this hoopla,

A loss of work. With sheer chutzpah

Attacked machines 

And owners dreams,

And any mech’nized thing, it seems.

The years have passed, 

Machines amassed,

We’ve mechanized, both thick and fast.

They’re mostly good, 

Machines that would

Produce things faster than we could.

And these machines, 

Provide the means

Of making things from jars to jeans.

But what’s been tossed, 

And what the cost,

Have all our finer skills been lost?

That brings me to, 

My point to you,

And what I have been trying to do.

Cause now, ‘lectrics, 

With nasty clicks,

Have taken over, just for kicks.

I watch in awe, 

My toddlers paw,

And make things work without a flaw.

It makes me mean, 

Those glowing screens,

I picture buying some benzene.

And with a touch, 

(Though not too much),

Remove my source of rage and such.

And with much glee, 

I will be free,

A modern Luddite will I be!

Each month, some poetry, you'll see

There's some from Karen,

Some from me,

I hope that you enjoyed what we,

Have crafted just 

For you to see!