Engineers Pop In Out Of History Designing Cities Poem by Terence George Craddock

This rendering in the second stanza was the starting point, if you spent a few years watching engineers, welders, machinists trying to fix heavy duty broken machinery. To make fit new parts. To nut out problems on the spot, with time constraints in confined work spaces. The need to convey complexity, to pay tribute to old friends, means time spent trying to get it right.

World in change by the skilled hands of engineers Nature in change but the skilled spinning of time world is world naturally beautiful where the engineers come to beautify more once the woods, forests, natural convention were the cities now all these become concretes and cities of stone Whatever History is the page of remembrance where the engineer was the designer of the universe

Thanks. Yes. Everything is structured now. I made a mistake choosing engineering though. I am more into poetry politics and philosophy. Any way it was fun when it lasted.

Another good one Terence...Impressive!

I wrote the poem 'Employment Careers Are Kaleidoscopic Life Changes', inspired by comments I made on the poem 'Engineers Pop In Out Of History Designing Cities' by the poet Terence George Craddock.

I wrote the split image 'Jobs Grow Into Time Lapse Experiences', inspired by comments I made on the poem 'Engineers Pop In Out Of History Designing Cities' by the poet Terence George Craddock.

I wrote the poem 'Watching Engineers Welders Fix Broken Machinery', inspired by comments I made on the poem 'Engineers Pop In Out Of History Designing Cities' by the poet Terence George Craddock.

I choose printing, an apprenticeship for 4 years, then passed Trade Certificate, then moved on. Later other jobs, other countries, were more freedom of choice. The past is littered with experiences, the future uncharted territory.

At least you got a choice Deluke, my parents gave me 3 days to find a job, I found a job as a saw doctor working in a bush sawmill, printing, or working in a local saw mill cutting up trees on the industrial blades. The local saw mill would not take me, they said I was too young. It was interesting years later, having a beer with an old friend with several missing fingers, who did work in a saw mill. Blades can be hypnotic.