This week let’s write a poem featuring a vending machine.

Did you know there were vending machines in ancient Rome?

I don’t think that fact alone is worthy of a poem but I do think vending machines are under-represented in poetry.

Let’s change that by posting such a poem in the comments below.

Monday Poetry Prompt: Vending Machine

B7

I stand before the vending machine
with the confidence
of a woman who knows exactly
what she wants.

B7.

Chocolate.

I insert my coins.

Press B.

Press 7.

The machine hums,
the spiral turns,

and my chocolate moves forward—

then stops.

Hanging there.

Defying gravity.

Defying me.

I press the glass.

Nothing.

I shake the machine.

Nothing.

I whisper,

"Don't make me do this."

The chocolate remains
completely unmoved
by my threat.

Behind it,

B8 watches silently.

Probably laughing.

For hundreds of years
humans have invented
machines to dispense things,

and somehow

we still haven't solved
the greatest problem
of civilisation:

the snack
that refuses
to drop.

 

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With love, coffee, poetry, and stardust,

— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫

My new album “Beneath The Northern Star ” is out .

You can save and play the songs on your streaming platforms here:

🌙 Beneath the Northern Stars – My New Album

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If you want a reading, send me an email:

Afterlove-Voice@hotmail.com

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