Mean Machine Poem by Susy Evelyne
Mean Machine
Two men and their mean machine -
And it chews and spews like you've never seen.
You feed in poplar, you feed in lime,
And out fly woodchips, double-quick time!
It'll eat fifty-footers, that voracious machine.
Now do you call that progress?
Or call it obscene?
Written 2007, copyright Susy Evelyne
I suppose the question is: why did the tree have to be felled. It could have been diseased or something. Over to you Susy.
'Now do you call that progress? Or call it obscene? ' I call it obscene and I give you 10/10 clean! A short, wonderful poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:06:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The saddest thing was it was a magnificent, healthy tree, not growing too near to a house - but the owner of the garden preferred decking.