Gumball Machine Poetry

I can't remember where I saw it. Or perhaps I read it. Anyway, it was something about how a book store had put up gumball machines, only they were filled with poetry! It stuck and I have been thinking about it ever since. Because, you see, I have a gumball machine.

When I was the tender age of nineteen I finally started dating. I didn't realize until afterward that he was ten years older. But that is another story. This part of the story is that he took me to the secondhand store in our tiny town and there was the gumball machine. I was enraptured. My 20th birthday was only weeks away, and he bought it for me.

The machine lived with me in Aunt Jane's cabin while I was single. It was always full of gumballs or jawbreakers and all my pals who came over kept a ready pocket of change to purchase sweets. (Is here where I admit that I charged a whole nickel? I did have to buy the candy to begin with, you know ;) When I married and moved to his little stone rent house, it was relegated to my parent's basement. And there is languished.

The poor machine after 23 years of neglect and rust.

I had three boys in five years. Wonderful, caring, sweet, bumbling, crazy, boyish bombs of unintentional destruction. Every time I considered bringing home the machine, I envisioned a child careening wildly into it and the glass globe exploding on the floor. Please know that I have never been one to put up my "good things" to save them. We ate on china and used glass goblets, sat with tablecloths and beautiful vases. Why the image of the machine crashing plagued me, I am unsure. But there was also the fact that if it was in the house and full of gum or candy, it would be empty within the day. I could not think of anything to put in it that would not cause bellyaches and tooth decay of epic proportion. And so the gumball machine was largely forgotten.

Then the idea of poetry! Still yet, how would one go about making the strips of paper dispense? Now, in the days of the Internet, I was able to actually find a place that sold the capsules to go in the machines. And they sold one type that was completely round and the size of a large gumball. The only kind my old machine could process.

I did 24 capsules with poetry and 24 without because they already had such great prizes inside.

I chose capsules with assorted toys. I couldn't resist. Poems are a gift, but poetry and a prize? Well, that's nigh on heavenly! 

Some of the prizes are really neat! In fact, my youngest son got a handful of tiny dinos (without paying!) and lined them up on his alarm clock. I'm not much better. I found this little monkey sticking out his tongue and yelled, "He's mine!" Now he sits in my kitchen and acts rude...

It was harder than one would think to get the poetry to fold small enough. Or perhaps the real problem is my inability to choose only short, succinct poems. However, I decided since that the majority of the buyers would be kids, that Shel Silverstein poems would be a welcome addition. They are short-ish and have the added value of usually being hilarious! Have you ever read any Silverstein? Oh, Dear Reader, you should! My Aunt Jane made sure my cousin and I were graced with all of his books of poems. I read the volumes to my boys over and over through the years. And I can still recite many by heart! If you know a child who professes to hate poetry- and with most of the poetry out there I don't blame them!- then you must introduce them to Shel Silverstein. And you should read them out loud to them. I dare you not to love them.

A blurry sampling of gumball poetry

When I mentioned this idea to my moma she was exceedingly skeptical. "Who will buy them?" she asked. My kids, I told her, and the ones from my biology and cooking classes. Kids don't carry change anymore, she said. I felt my chin jut out. "They will once they see my machine," I declared. 

Inflation caused a rise in price to 25 cents

So what do you think, Dear Reader? Will anyone care? Would you take a chance on my machine? You never know about poetry. You just might find yourself holding words that change your life...