I
The Toy Machine stood on the block of alabaster near the door
But Uncle Russ made such a fuss that I moved it just once more
Around the back, to the tiny shack, that's where it ended up
All neatly wrapped in its own new sack, it stood near the sheds rear door
II
It's a funny tale and I'm here to tell, of the Toy Machine that broke
Making toys for me, near a tree house tree, that it had originally built
It was one fine day
As I wended my way
To the house where I used to live
There I noticed something strange
That came well within range
Of being called, well amazingly odd
It looked three feet tall
But was really quite small
As it stood on a large metal base
It had a glass in one hand
And it really looked quite grand
That is, all but its large metal face
It was covered in bits
And the tiny red sticks
Of a substance that's still quite unknown
And it shone with a sheen
That made it look quite green
And was buffed with a dull metal glow
III
NOW..In its other hand it held
By some strange tiny little bells
A box that was covered all in lacquer
Where upon the front I read
With just a bit of dread
The Toy Machine, Designed by Billy Snicker, NO SNACKER
Now Billy Snackers father
Had a ginger cat named Arthur
Who delighted all by catching local mice
It seemed that local mice were nice
For they were eaten in a trice
And Arthur always grew a little farther , fatter
Now stop that chatter
Or this tale I'll not relate
Of what happened at my front gate
While returning to it with my captured booty
YOU ARE READING
The Toy Machine
PoetryAn epic Poem about a Toy Machine and what happened when it was turned on.