Poetry About Industrial Revolution

The factory bell divides the day more sharply than sunrise once did. Steam writes a dark new weather above the brick city. Machines multiply cloth while narrowing the time allowed each hand. Children carry exhaustion through gates built for adult profit. Villages empty toward wages, smoke, crowding, and possibility. The railway compresses distance and expands the reach of markets.

Machines multiply cloth while narrowing the time allowed each hand. Inventors are praised while workers organize against the cost. Coal powers progress and settles black inside the lungs. Production rises; so do fortunes, tenements, and demands for rights. Every innovation enters a world already unequal. Its windows still ask who paid for the speed we inherited.

The factory bell divides the day more sharply than sunrise once did. Villages empty toward wages, smoke, crowding, and possibility. The railway compresses distance and expands the reach of markets. Production rises; so do fortunes, tenements, and demands for rights. The old mill stands quiet now beside a cleaner river. Its windows still ask who paid for the speed we inherited.