#Micropoetry Monday: Opposites

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He was a wood crafter,
she, a paper one.
For him, hell was a craft store,
she, a hardware,
but their shared love of dead trees
gave them the alone time they needed,
so that the time they did spend together
was spent not boring one another.

He was secular,
she, spiritual,
& when they became friends,
he showed her the humanity of humankind,
& she,
the divinity of the same.

He was into dinosaurs,
she, robots.
He tried to understand a world
that had ended,
she, a world that was only beginning.
When they found one another,
they lived not in the time prior
when they had moved in different orbits,
nor for the time to come
when they would be like
2 neutron stars,
colliding to form a kilanova,
but in the moment
that closed the space
between them.

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #436: Comprehensive

Assembly Line Blues

For a time,
they’d known how to put all the pieces together,
until it became more profitable for the Conglomerates
for them to know how to make only one piece.
Then came the day that none of them knew how to make anything,
for the robots did everything.
And so they built the robots–
until the robots were taught how to recreate their own kind.
And the Conglomerates owned the robots,
until the robots owned them,
turning them into what they had been,
even as these bots became what Pinocchio had always dreamed of becoming.

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 436

Writer’s Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt #319

So I had to write a poem using at least three of these words:

  • paddle
  • robot
  • custard
  • quibble
  • glance
  • wrench

I generally try to overachieve by using all of them, but I just wasn’t in the mood today.  Usually, when I have to write a poem within these guidelines, it ends up being silly, so here is a silly poem for you.

The Time and Death of Robie the Robot

Robie the Robot was the newest addition
to MacDougal’s Hamburgers and Fries.
He became Employee of the Month
for up-selling Supersize.

With a paddle for one hand,
and a wrench for the other,
he never messed up an order,
or demanded fifteen dollars an hour.
He did not need a smoke break,
he never pilfered the food,
called in sick, or came in late.

The other employees,
who saw him as a threat,
decided to do him in one day.
They recycled him into a windchime—
an effigy of sorts—
committing a felonious crime.

When the State came the next day,
to collect Secret Agent Robie Robot for service,
the workers, to avoid a charge,
ended up taking his place.