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Pressing Platen...

Lin-o-types faster than hand-set
Clickety-click
En's and em's flying

Punctuation imperious!

A shove to start the counter-weight wheel
Push the button to on
Grease the fittings and wipe your hands

Whir of the wheel, faint click of the bearings
Raven-purple ink rollers over the type face
Subdued noise, a cross of crunch and clunk

These old machines had beauty and grace
Deceptive though... NEVER put your hands in there
Faster than you think

Imagining the old shops
Twenty presses running like a team of mules
Working together, doing a job

The proof-read and “It's good!”
Run forty, two to a page and switch sets
Put them to bed, nice and snug

A message is born

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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Comments

and remembering the old machines and shop I learned about the printing trade in. Thanks Esker!

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author comment

ALL INTERNET
and
ROBOTS
and only etc etc etc'eeeee'zzzzzzzzzzzzzc

the paper presses that make enough noise to require you to wear ear-protection, but you are right. I think that maybe newspapers will be a thing of the past within the next couple of decades. This generation doesn't like to be tied to all that paper and would rather get their news from the internet.
I haven't been active for many years in the printing trade and know that it has changed much. I suspect that the mighty presses will go the way of the dinosaur and the click and whir of scanners and electronic printers will take over. Thanks for the comment, ~ Gee.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

author comment

I guess such is rapidly fading into the past as are old farts like me lol. Enjoyed the read.............stan

the read Stan. Us old farts are what made this world what it is today and don't count us out yet!
~ Gee.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

author comment

The Big Mac Trucks of photocopiers. Wrote a poem about a spiritual experience I got from one once, flash in the face, road to Damascus, https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/poems/truth-photocopiers

The thing was I was really fucking good with them. They called me McGyver because I could hear one about to jam minutes before it did then would fix it with paper clips and rubber bands.

Trouble was the documents were mostly financial report crap. Except one. I published a book of poetry, not realising till I read it that I knew the poet. She had died of an overdose.

Sorry man, related to the poem, even though very different tech,

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

McGyver, I imagine that even photocopiers will someday bite the dust along with all the previous tech. Trying to imagine how advertising and information will be passed along. Floating 3D signs and other stuff of sci-fi I guess. Glad to know that you made a connection even though the tech is worlds apart from the old stuff. Thanks, ~ Gee.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

author comment

the 'sabotuers'
are not the artisan
the work exists
for the quality of its
mastery
the pen to paper
the press to page
to illuminate the masses
in wave
imaginations torch of brave

any ninkaboodle with coin
can hire the mice in the organ
today...
and machines oft get erased
with twitches and switches

unlike the divine of the real
what our money once was
what our books were
like farenheit 451

old magic is being reinvented
vinyl is coming back
resurected presses
found in russia
uk....the printing press
one day may find such
fine reserve and value
as the blinky prestige
of the modern wonders
fail...

i remember the inks
when i hung out at the
printing press
chatting with a friend
he was the mechanical
do ere all about twenty
years ago
old money still held onto
the pulp and papers
people still loved the warm
feel...aroma of the press
like a heart to the eye
of the world they hang
onto...

thank U artisan
of words

Mr Wolf!

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