Hands knead and pummel
flour, yeast, salt and water
to make the dough for bread,
shaped skillfully into the staff of life.
With the years hands lose their strength
to be replaced by sleek insensate machine.
~
Needle, thread, scissors, fabric
once materials of fashion
attire for me and mine
Hands lose their skill.
Slow careful work
no longer serves:
machine must
be mastered
instead.
for dVerse Poetics
Vivinfrance's Blog 
So sad when creative
touch iN hands
iS repLaced
by nut
and bolt
and hard
disk cold..
but for me..
without a way
to penlegibly.. keYboard
iS A saVing gRace noW to
wRite
aGain..
or even first
for thirst
iN
Creation ActiViTy..:)
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Not replaced, simply deteriorating.
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🙂
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I so understand what you are saying as my body fails me too. The production of things starts in the mind and heart. The body parts just offer their assistance while they can. When the body fails, the mind and heart create another way to make things. My eyes are failing but when my heart and mind no longer care to create, I’m no longer fully alive.
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A sad fact of life.
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So very true, Viv. Now that machines are used, it seems people HAVE forgotten how to use their hands.
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We should all know when to throw our hands up and seek another way, infernal machine or not! A bittersweet realization, Viv.
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I think you are still making things ‘by hand’ even when you are using a domestic sewing machine to do it. After all, the machine can’t choose the colours, cut the pieces and design the item – that’s all you! So don’t despair – the nature of some of your handiwork has changed, that’s all.
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My mother has been making a lot of bread lately and she just mentioned to me the other day how she no longer has the same strength to knead the dough (something I would never have imagined, until it happens to me some day) .My mother in law knits prayer shawls even as her eye sight is failing. Your poem reminds me of these two special ladies. Thanks for that. 🙂
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We change and adapt through our aging as best we can. I’ve seen my mother give up her sewing and her painting but she refuses to give up cooking.
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Hands turn against you sometimes… They fail to open that easy jar, they drop the heavy jug, they fail to keep hold of the pins again and again. But it doesn’t stop me trying. The greatest sadness to me will be when I can’t embroider or hand stitch at all any longer. Right now, the hands allow an hour or two before they go on strike.
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Your hands produce such gorgeous results.
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Slowly… and with lots of breaks.
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It is sad that machine made has replaced handmade in so many things. Nice take on the prompt.
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Beautifully rendered 🙂
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When I first saw the prompt and thought of you and your quilting, Viv–and you didn’t disappoint. But loved as well the images of making bread.
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We do value the truly handmade even more I think… and some things we do for feasts (like baking bread) At least I mend my clothes sometimes…
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Hands bring gifts of all kinds in all times of their cycle even if they do need the assistance of the machine…I think your work is wonderful, Viv. 🙂
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That’s kind, Hannah.
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The sad truth Hands gave way after having been of great service through the years. Machines did it without emotions
Hank
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I think its fun to learn how to use machines but nothing like hands to bring comfort and warmth.
And handmade crafts are still good to do, to keep one busy. I have seen some commuters knit while on the train~
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I still do a lot of crafty things, just more slowly and less confidently. I used to knit on the train and read at the same time.
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That’s weird – all those years ago when I still lived in Cologne, I used to read and knit at the same time too, on the tram going to work and at parties! I love this poem. I’m afraid I gave up making bread and knitting after a minor stroke. Your words brought back fond memories. 😊
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I’m sorry about your stroke, and hope you’ve made a good recovery.
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Thanks Viv, it was a long time ago. I just have a weak hand and a slight droop. 😐
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Nicely done. I love it.
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So true, and often so sad.
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True enough, yet fabric stores still remain in business. And the fabric counter at stores like Wal-Mart. Curious great-granddaughters. Antique treadle machine still running in our family.
Gardens of vegetables, courses in home canning & preserving. Who are we & why do we do this? There is more than money involved – could it be something like a gene that won’t let go? Among the supermarket bounty, racks of vegetable (and flower) seeds?
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You’re right – my wartime upbringing inculcated many skills of kirchen and garden, which still see me picking blackberries and making jams and jellies.
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