
jdbphoto2017
Luddite (Within Reason)
Resurrect the Luddite gene!
Raise the axe! Kill the machine!
Its use is seldom credible
in products that are edible.
A bread machine for making bread?
Ban that idea from your head.
Bread manufactured should be banned.
The nobler loaf is shaped by hand.
Lasagna, too, it is a fact,
is better manually stacked.
Those frozen ones from Costco? Toss ‘em!
For no machine knows how to sauce ‘em!
Torillas handmade pat by pat?
You simply can’t improve on that.
But I admit I’m not that keen
on ones that come from a machine.
South of the border, arts abound
on almost every wall they’re found.
All over town, the artists stand
creating murals there by hand.
Art that’s produced digitally?
It will simply never be
as satisfactory to me
as this handmade artistry.
The stately dome, even and round,
in Mexico is often found.
With bricks, cement and lime and sand—
it’s true that they are made by hand!
I admit that a brick wall
is hardly any view at all.
The only worse thing in a town
is when you find one tumbled down!
But Mexico excels at walls.
Hand-stacked, a stone wall rarely falls.
And they are things of beauty, too,
and add, not detract, from the view.
I find that I can best assuage
my aches with a hands-on massage.
Our massage chair bought for beaucoup bucks?
Truthfully? It really sucks.
And yet, I know that many lean
in preference to the machine.
I must admit, though I am wary,
that certain ones are necessary.
Elevators beat the stairs.
Electric shavers best cut hairs.
(Those signs extolling Burma Shave
belong outside a caveman’s cave.)
And I admit the movie sector
clearly needs its film projector.
Doctors? X-rays. Dentists? Drills.
Pharmacists? Machine-made pills.
And I am sure I’d really balk
If I were forced to always walk,
so cars and trucks would make my list
of machines that should exist.
I could live if forced to brave
this world without my microwave,
but take my Wifi? Don’t you dare!!!
Some things are better sent by air!
I must admit, I had totally forgotten writing this poem, which is about 3 years old. If you’ve been writing blogs for awhile, I heartily recommend that you go back and read some from three years ago or older. You will probably be surprised––like reading something someone else has written. Or perhaps your memory is better than mine. At any rate, hope you enjoyed this again if you’ve been following for that long and for the first time if you haven’t.
I’m with you all the way … except on bread machines. Mine worked really well, when I used it. True, I made really excellent bread by hand, but being covered in sticky dough to my elbows wasn’t always my top choice for the day. I eventually decided making bread at home was pointless because we don’t eat much bread. I think as life has moved along, there are a lot of things I don’t cook because we don’t eat that stuff these days.
I baked a cake last month. Chocolate. We ate a piece. Then we didn’t want more because it was too sweet. Turns out, heavy sugar wreaks havoc with our bodies. How weird is that? Who knew we’d lose our taste for sweets?
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Wish I could. Send the remains of that cake on down to moi, friend!
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I love this poem, which I’d not seen before! It’s amazing how differently we live these days.
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I know.. even in our lifetime!!!
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Awesome 🙂
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Oh, this poem is fantastic; these inventions slip into our lives without us being aware of it. I really think it is all too, too much.
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I do remember your writing this poem, although I didn’t remember the picture. At first glance when I saw the title, I said to myself, “Oh, Judy’s written another Luddite poem.” Speaking of being dragged kicking and screaming into the present day, I finally bought an IPad yesterday. Of course I love it! What took me so long? However, I still like to do things the old fashioned way. When Erin was here, we went strawberry picking , and I made strawberry short cake from scratch, and, of course, whipped the cream.
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You are an Allendite!!! I added the photo.. it is of a car in Yoli’s Primavera Queen parade..Could you have guessed?
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Hand made, customized, personalized. That is were it’s at.
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Look at that
in retrospect:
in one tight place
wall, car and aches! 😮
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You are right. This is oddly predictive of my today’s poem. Hmmm.
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