My Mower, My Nemesis: A Tragic Poem for Guys

Every hero has his nemesis, a villain still unbeaten
As Batman has his Joker, (both Christian Bale and Michael Keaton.)
Superman, Lex Luthor; Spiderman, the Goblin Green
I even have a nemesis, mine’s a Craftsman lawn machine.


It was given to me free of charge, by a friend I had befriended
All the belts and pulleys broken, needing only to be mended.
But with it came a caveat—a warning from my friend
Lest blessing turn into a curse and friendship quickly end.

He said he’d fixed this hunk-a-junk, time and time again
And he wondered if his gift to me might be some kind of sin.
I assured him that was not the case, for I knew how to mechanic
His gift, it was a blessing, not even mildly satanic.

I told him I would show this old lawnmower who was boss
But he knew full well his loss was gain, and that my gain was loss.
So with a prayer and blessing, he watched me drive away
“God grant you peace through trying times”–last thing I heard him say.

I got it home and jumped right in–pulled pulleys, belts, and springs
I ordered new ones on the web and I fixed everything.
I cranked her up and mowed the grass for most of that first summer
But when the drive belt snapped in two, it all became a bummer.

Long story short—it’s been the case for most of these three seasons
One thing fixed, another breaks, and I’ll never know the reasons.
And then one time the deck broke off—had to weld it back together
Wished grass would cease to grow so fast, I prayed for drier weather.

Wish I could say, “It works right now,” but right now it is broken
“God grant you peace through trying times”—no truer words were spoken.
So if you have the income of a famous movie actor,
I’ve got a pit to throw it in– my Craftsman garden tractor.

And when this mower finally dies, I won’t lose a moment’s sleep
Perhaps I’ll buy a zero-turn, or perhaps I’ll buy some sheep.
They’ll safely graze; they’ll eat my grass until they’ve had their fill
And if they become my nemesis, I can throw them on the grill.