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Best Computer Poems

Below are the all-time best Computer poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of computer poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Computer Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Computer poems are below this new poems list.

Computer Love by Atkins, Jaquay
My Computer and I by Janko, Betty
Oh My Computer by SEREO, KHOMOTSO
Poetry Computer by Palms, Alexandria
Computer Problems by Duggan, Vera
Mind's Like A Computer by Girl48, Country
My Computer by Monihan, Rhoda
My Computer II by Monihan, Rhoda
Computer Error by Laurie, Lindsay
Vote With Computer Instead by Horn, James

View all new Computer Poems

The Best Computer Poems

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Cyber real

Has the convenience of technology 
inoculated us from reality?
Do androids dream of electric sheep?
I pray the code my soul to keep?
Does your universe live within 4G
Or megapixel infinity?
Which memory lies within
The one that was
Or the one that's been
Or how much gig how much ram?
Which reality is true?
Cyber me
Or cyber you?
Cyber bully
Cyber crime
Cyber hate 
Cyber time?
Cyber boxer
Or cyber brief?
Who is the real identity thief?
Cyber pleasure
Cyber pain
Hours spent glaring into the screen
Choosing an alternate username.
Status updates and trending tweets
Fill your mind and rob your sleep.
Clever hashtags and Instagram 
Will shape your image and gain more friends.
Is the you you've shaped in cyberspace 
The same you I'd see face to face?
We hide behind our computer screens
And criticize with brutal ease.
Virtual reality
Is buying souls of men you see 
And robbing the ability to dream real dreams.
I want to conquer something real
That I can grab that I can feel.
I want to touch life and hold on tight
I want to unblock true friends
And "like" real sights.
I want conversation face to face
In real world time
In a real world place.


Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2014

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IT'S SIMPLY NOT PC

My finger hovers Shall I turn you on today You lie there tempting me I need to know what buttons to press But when I press those buttons You respond immediately and burst into life Every Wednesday you leave me little messages I try to ignore them but you are so persistent You want to update I want to write I press any key to continue And you ignore me and update anyway My husband is fed up with the distress you cause me He has a cunning plan to fix you forever ... No more automatic updates From now on you and I can live together in perfect harmony I can press the right keys to update you when it suits ME Now I am in complete control! Computer Poem Contest – Carol Eastman 29th March 2015


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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The Man in the Wilderness

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam

Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind

I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be

For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home

So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

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My Sudoku Life

And I walk
across numerical figments
speaking hyperbole dialect to their imaginations.

Numb, blocky gaps
whisper invitation to secret club.

Enticing my stature
to belong
to become exponent’s side-kick.

So they can welcome me with open arms.

Coating my digits with inoperable tumors
double-knotted in hot pink laced bow
and baby-breath scent.

They even left a Walmart Rollback smiley face sticker
with crack residue on right cheek
and a comic-style bubble caption, “welcome home puppet”.

Yes!

This is exactly how Mother 1 told me it would be.

Kinda like marriage,
but less detail-oriented.

But, I could never fit in.

For I am neither positive
nor negative
about their (cult) ural ways.

Timing would always be off.

An arm from the clock that suffered a stroke at Midnight…

They’d never understand,
how they’d alter this unevenly, odd numerical figment.

For they’ll just calculate,
deduce,
my sum with rusty protractor.

This Zero, into a fraction...

© Drake J. Eszes


Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2010

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More Than Machines


More Than Machines?

Face to face they stand
Brain to brain
Two-eyed flesh machine
And one-eyed plastic terminal
Interacting systems
Inputting, outputting, precious data.

Face to face they sit
A complex team
Driven to perform
With error-free precision
In a controlled mini-world
Ruled by the god of technology.

Face to face they lie
Worlds apart
Stark, cold plastic eye
Flashing programmed data;
Warm, sensitive flesh eyes
Flashing non-programmable twinkles.

Face to face they are
A new species
Ruled by the god of technology.


Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: Computer Poem
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Judged: 04/16/2015



Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

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The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’



Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

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Inside my Computer

My computer-- disassembled
is a maze of cables, drives
chips and ports--an array
of connections, silver solderings,
twisting wires.

But when the satiny case
is latched in place
coils and cables disappear.
The smallest particle of matter
is not an atom, but a byte--
a particle of magic that combines
and multiplies unseen
inside the blinking box.

Creation occurs inside my computer--
friends, family rest behind the pressing
of selected keys. Words and faces
form; smiles and frowns
become feelings.
Attraction becomes addiction.

Inside my computer
merchants buy and sell--
musicians sing,
artists train pictures into pixels,
poets recollect emotion in tranquillity.

Inside my computer
dreams are imagined into reality--
inventions, hopes, ideas are born
and nurtured into happenings.
Strangers share a table, touch
hands across the world.

Inside my computer
the pulse of human hearts
waxes and wanes
as people fall in and out 
of love.


Copyright © Karen Ruff | Year Posted 2014

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The Computer Screen

Of the items in the store,
All were second hand
An old computer did I buy,
With a broken stand

One side was badly scratched
Two knobs were missing too
But that’s not the story
I’m about to tell to you

T’was about the second week
Of the ‘puter at my place
Sitting there against the wall
Near the old staircase

I recall the night was late
As I readied me for bed
When I turned the ‘puter off,
The screen … it turned blood-red

The appearance caused a start
I gasped a gulp of air
I couldn’t turn my gaze away
I stood right there and stared.

Then a low murmuring
From deep within the set
Cold chills ran over me
I’ve not forgotten yet

A voice, low and menacing
Containing graveled rasps
I could not then stop again
My involuntary gasp

I stood there mesmerized
My gaze remained transfixed
Emotions racing through me
And all of them were mixed

The Voice on the other side
Of the blood-red display screen
Issued a command to me
So ominous and mean:

“Place your hand upon the screen
And repeat these words to me:
Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”

I felt my arm move upward
Powerless to resist
I felt a burning in my palm
As the display screen it kissed

I heard a voice and realized
The speaker it was me:
“Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”

As the words transmitted,
Involuntarily,
I could feel a change come on …
Overwhelming me.

As I stared in disbelief
My hand – it disappeared
Absorbed into the blood-red screen
As the burning onward seared …

Through my wrist, up my arm
It’s hotness I could feel
Inward was I screaming
Not believing this was real!

In reflection from the screen
I was being pulled into
I saw a face, and then I screamed:
“That horrid face is YOU!”

The rapid assimilation
Continued then until
All feelings were extinguished
And all was calm and still.

A trillion beings there transformed
To tiny bytes and bits
And ‘tis every part of us
All websites now transmits

Now here I am deep inside
This computers’ display screen
If there’s disturbance felt
Oh so sharp and keen

Just place your hand upon the screen
And read these words to me:
“Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”


Copyright © Jack Clark | Year Posted 2014

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Life is Messy

Life is a mess and needs constant cleaning
Soap Opera glasses and bodies acquire meaning
She said this; He said that
Bureaucracy is getting fat, fat, fat

Life is a mess with no sanitizing
Half empty or half full is agonizing
Media talk; on the job gossip
Interacting with people considered Drama Prophets

Life is a mess and will stay as such
Many humans seem to lack the connective touch 
Work harder, longer, faster, be perfect!
For some, this is equal to a creative reject

Life is really messy for the next generation
Faster, better, longer; utter frustration
Stress that will taunt and even hurt them
A messy loss of an antiseptic brain stem



Copyright © Jennifer Young | Year Posted 2014

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BC Had Greatness

B.C. has been the acronym applied 
for all events before out dear Lord’s birth.
Who knew another god would change the tide
and wield a power of great global worth?

To what do I refer? Or have you guessed
the god to which we each now bow our head?
No matter our religion, all are blessed
with this thing vital as our daily bread.

It took away the jobs of common men
and gave new jobs to geeks. You now must know
this god of our new world, who loves all sin
as well as good, has nothing it won’t show!

I think “Before Computers” seems a way
to say A.D.  became a new B.C.
Now things have changed so much that I would say
that my own past is ancient history!

Before Computers, life was not so fast,
and even in the 90’s I could keep
abreast of news and make my free time last.
High-tech today both makes me thrill and weep!

More time for family, a slowed down pace,
more time for God; I weep for things we’ve lost.
yet thrilled am I to see the human race
now bonding. But we do it at what cost?

Our children growing lazy, rude, and fat
and less connected, addicts to a phone!
To play outside. . . . Do you remember that?
B.C. meant doing more things on your own.

With jobs, our kids and all our lives at stake,
we now embrace our new computer age,.
Omitting our true God is the mistake
that might well do us in; we must be sage!

Recall the values getting left behind
as into this computer age we cruise.
Look back to decades past and you will find
B.C. had greatness that we must not lose.


For Deb's Contest (B.C. = Before Computers)


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

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COMPUTING: SECOND TRIBUTE POEM TO JACQUES AND TORIN LAKEMAN

Jacques and Torin came round to play In the afternoon on a Saturday Three computers linked up on the dining room table Age of Empires played whenever they were able Drinks and snacks and lots of chatter Sarah and I would sit and have a natter The boys would play for hours and hours Building Empires and ivory towers Turkey Jetta’s, chips and beans for tea Then back to the game for the happy three Written on 4th January 2015 https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jactor-Project/378173279030533?fref=nf or Google jactor project facebook if the link doesn't work


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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Obsessed with flat

It's funny
How did a computer
A silly computer
A flat screened computer
Become my obsession?
I wake up
There it is
Waiting
Begging 
Inticing
"Turn me on"
"play with my buttons"

I look at the bright screen
Remembering the Poltergeist warning
"Don't go into the light"
But it's so pretty!
I'm sure I'll be alright 

Eyes see
Pupils dilate
Pulse quickens
As my fingers tap feverishly on keys
Traveling to different places with ease
Wondering
Who else sees 
Images like these
Hers and hims and other me..s
Infected by their computer disease

Friends I connect with
Around the clock
Ticking while I'm talking
And wrestling with a sock
Late for work again
What a shock

A cup of coffee 
on the keyboard spilled
My glowing obsession 
is sadly killed
Emotional me
With remorse I'm filled
Then I pause until I'm chilled

I reach for my smart phone
Thankfuly I'm OK
I can keep in touch anyway
Here in my pocket
I have a way to play
A portable flat screened obsession
I can access night and day!

For Carol's Computer Contest.









Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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I can only hand it to you

Tapped messages go out direct
With phones it's an easy connect
Thoughts from a finger
In cyberspace linger
But touching's too much to expect


Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2013

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Computer Error

I’ve always been a cash man, so when me cash was blown,
I might be sitting back all stony broke and pleading for a loan,
at least I know that if a mate, throws up a couple of pound,
that I can pay him back the debt when payday comes around.

But if I am a day too late, then he will give a wink and nod,
and give the loan extension without an interest prod,
I could say to him I’ll write a cheque, but they would draw a blank;
my cheques have tendencies of rubber if challenged by the bank.

Of course when begging alms there are those who give advice,
and there are those who lent me once, but rarely ever twice,
now if they see me coming then, they keep well on their guard,
advising me the time has come to own a credit card.

And then it was explained to me, how this credit system works,
I can buy just what I like, and there are no hidden lurks,
all I have to do one day a month, is pay the bill that has been sent,
but if I don’t then I’ll charged an extra twenty-five per cent.

It’s not like mateship; not at all … I can’t be a day too late.
These bloody banks are ruthless, not like a lending mate,
so here I have this credit card, aware not to abuse it,
and really in a dither ‘cause I’m too afraid to use it.

In March a letter from this credit mob to me was duly sent,
stating that I owed the company not one dollar or a cent,
so I ignored the letter, it’s something should not be done,
because come April in the mail, I received another one. 

I still owe no dollars and no cents, so I caste the bill away,
but this bloody mob got nasty, saying I refused to pay,
and they threatened cancellation if I didn’t pay me bill,
so I rang up demanding ‘fix it!’ And they said that they will. 

“It’s a computer error” … apologizing for my inconvenience,
“A gremlin’s got into our program, producing little sense,
but don’t you worry it’s been fixed, I’ve done it here on line,
your credit card is functional, everything’s now fine”.

And so it seemed the world’s okay, this glitch is finally eased,
so now my credit card is lawful, and I felt kind of pleased,
now thinking I should use it, although I better stay on guard,
with a trolley full of purchased goods, I passed across the card.

Talk about embarrassment, with the result a damning slur,
the lady gave a low reply “This card’s been cancelled sir”, 
I left the goods there with her; once more I’m on the phone,
this time over agitated, as the bloke sure would have known.

“It’s a computer error” … apologizing for my inconvenience,
“A gremlin’s got into our program, producing little sense,
but don’t you worry it’s been fixed, I’ve done it here on line,
your credit card is functional, everything’s now fine”.

Now you might not believe this, but I’m telling you it’s true,
next day in the mail a statement, say’s me bill is overdue.
No dollars and no cents again. What’s this lot on about?
But talking with them yesterday, they will have worked it out.

Once again when June came ‘round, there one day in the mail,
a threatening letter from the mob read out that I did fail
to pay the debt upon me card; I have ten days for recompense,
or action will be taken, to recoup no dollars and no cents.
 
This seems all bloody senseless, and it’s put me in a bind,
how do I pay nothing? But then a thought came to me mind.
So I wrote out a cheque for them, for no dollars and no cents,  
and that computer thanked me. To me it made no flamin’ sense.

But if you think the troubles over, then you better think again,
my bank is ringing me up now, asking if I am insane,
‘Why did I write a cheque out for no dollars and no cents?’
And you know they didn’t listen to a word for my defence.

The bank whinged the cheque I wrote has left a sad and sorry tale.
Their computer went into a frenzy causing its software to fail;
now the bank cannot process a cheque, from ALL customers today,
‘cause I’ve crashed their computer in a quite unusual way.  

It’s a computer error aye! Well, this time I’m giving my defence,
it’s not my fault the bloody thing, can’t read no dollars and no cents.
Then the company for the credit card, sent a statement that announced,
this is my final warning … advising me my cheque had bounced.

So once again the threats returned, this credit card has me a debtor,
but for no dollars and no cents, I don’t fear a debt collector,
now all my dealings done with cash, to alleviate the terror,
of someone on the telephone, telling me … it’s a computer error.




Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2016

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And People Ask Why I Don't Take a Class

My vacant stare was sure to be 
a giveaway to anyone that saw . . .
I was a Pilgrim there to the land of techno-jargon,
of icons, Help instructions meaning nothing,
and a world of young and savvy operators.
Our teacher wasn’t there. 
Certain that the worksheet explaining all the basics
would be a breeze for us to carry out,
he’d arrogantly left the room
and left the lot of us to the mercy of
a keyboard and computer.

I looked up from his worksheet 
to a screen that stared right back at me,
awaiting my commands.
I was on the starting path to what is often called
the Super Highway, 
and my boarding pass, tuition to the class,
was non-refundable.
Overwhelmed, I started out.  Then I hit a rut
and didn’t have a clue what next to do.
My learning peers already seemed to know
the route quite well. 
Some, in fact, were calling it a day
while I stayed on, ashamed to bother
any of the others there for help.

I looked around the room, my tired brain
a hot plate in the midst of younger minds
with the speed of ovens made for microwave.
Perhaps they’d all conspired to put 
the older lady at unease.
It seemed the more I tried to understand,
the more pathetically off course I’d go. . . 
Till finally (longing for a time when 
“cut and paste” implied the use of scissors),
I got up from my seat and left behind
the self-instructing worksheet which
that egghead teacher said would be “a cinch.” 
Two big words were scrawled across the top
of its first page, two big words in red,
written with the one tool I could trust: 
SCREW IT. 


For Natalie Whitlock's 
"Talkin' Technology" Contest


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

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Gigaflops

  Gigaflops

Did you meet the Boogyman
Did you see his stare?
Or were you in the land of nod
Blissfully unaware
Of the face that’s at your window
Or the menace in your room
Or the giant bug that’s infiltrated each device you own
The sinister reflection to be remotely viewed
Or the troll that sits in wait beneath your old computer stool.

Did you know the Boogyman had come tonight to stay?
To interfere, to change the rules, to win, to have his way.
To permeate the World Wide Web and take complete control
To hack into your emails and alter all your codes
Open up your firewall, check that it’s enabled
Test your antivirus make sure that it is stable
Back up all your data your photos and your files
Scan and defragment, reformat your drives
Ask yourself which Boogyman do you fear the most
The worm, the thread, the virus, or the awful viral ghost

Step into the Matrix, be one with the machine
Understand it from within, if only in your dreams
Feel the power that drives it, look behind closed doors 
Recognise the program files, could they possibly be yours
Switch off your computer, let the screen turn black
Gaze into the monitor and see it staring back
Even when the power is off the monster you can view
Face to face you realise, the Boogyman is you. 


Copyright © Heather Buxton | Year Posted 2014

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Hard Drive

For months I’ve partitioned – sectored my strife
Trying to determine – wrong from the right
Clinging to bits – healing the bytes
Moving and changing – formatting new life

My career crashed – with it my dreams
Memory erased – circuits burned clean
Connection to love – garbled and crossed
Power was fading – all color lost

A new system needed – more power and thrill
New creativity – speed and the skill
Designing new backup – restoring my line
Application of will – turn tables on time

Tap my known current – discarding old woes
Erase obsolete system – vanquish all foes
Move to the center – empower self trust
Stun all the comers – lightning fast thrust

No longer lie down – and wait for the call
Stand up and fight – pin them to the wall
Knowing I’m better – than any machine
Time to arise – from a protracted dream

And so I forgo – all advice of claimed best
Listen inside – put myself to the test
It’s hard but I’m winning – getting better by day
Pain is less troubling – I’ll continue this way


Copyright © JIm Culhane | Year Posted 2005

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Who's in Charge

Who's in charge here? Can't they hear us? No ear, perhaps!
*Inspired by technical difficulties on the Soup and written for Dr. Ram's Than-Bauk contest.


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

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Modern Life

Modern Life
We are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week
Except Monday mornings and Sunday nights.
What are they on about, at this place that I seek
That is supposed open 24/7 days a week.

The pub is open we have an unlimited license,
Let’s have a drink before we go to bed!
I’m sorry we are closed the doors shut at eleven
That’s what the snooty landlord then said.

The helpline is here no matter when 
Give us a call and we can help you then.
Ring, ring, ring, ring, the phone rings on
A tape recording says, “Sorry everyone has gone.”

My car has broken down the man came to fix it
“It doesn’t work” he said sratching his head.
“There a computer on board and I will need to record
All the things that are broken down” he said.

But I need my car; I looked at him hard, 
And he gave me a wizened up frown.
He plugged himself in, then said with a grin.
The computer says it’s fine, the engine is strong.

But the car doesn’t work you toothless little jerk, 
The computer plugged in must be wrong.
“How can it be wrong it says the engine is strong?” he gave me a shifty look
“To be honest missus if it ain’t on the pute, perhaps the answers in a book."

He could find nothing wrong, the onboard computer gave a bong,
But it still said all was okay.
The tow-truck they called out with its ramp and its chains
Now they have taken my poor car away.

Modern life is so frustrating; we have everything at our fingertips
There is 24/7 that does not mean that, and fury does exit my lips.
If its 24/7 and help lines constantly, a car that is run by computer.
Why doesn’t anything work, I feel like the jerk, can somebody lend me a shooter.

I want to blast and to break all technology of late
It’s driving me to drink and distraction
The open all hours pubs are now closed, 
And my car is still out of action.

The bank is closed, the computers just died, 
The telephones gone on the blink
The TV HD, it is fuzzy like me;
I think I’m going to put my head in the sink.

The oven would be better, but its electric not gas
So I don’t think it would work as well
I want to end it all, not practice for the day,
The Grim-Reaper points at me, and sends me to hell.

Therefore, I’ll fill up the sink and put my head in the drink, 
Oh, blast, who is that at the door?
It’s the water board here, we are just making it clear,your water is off for a week.
Typical, I have no car and it is too far
To walk out and jump in the creek.




Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2011

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Unique Talent, Poetrysoup(Footle)

Poetry Soup
Rare Group


Copyright © Tyesha Ehigiator | Year Posted 2009

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Broken Conch

.



                           between us — 
                           a broken conch
                           empty of waves




.


Copyright © Ruben O. | Year Posted 2016

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Angst on the Big Screen

There you go again, you “Cyber Brat”! There is “no such website”? What is that? First you lead me through a wild web maze; I Google, then succumb to your craze. What happens if I hit “delete”? Will my work vanish, incomplete? Or do you wish to cast me aside? I’ll tap “escape” and wash out high tide! Your camera is like a stalker; I cuss it like an inane squawker. If I press “shift,” will the Earth’s poles move? Your choice of labels you could improve. So I’ll “insert” myself into your brain, In a quest to make you more humane. The poor page tires of your “up” and “down” Now the court jester can wear your crown! No more “errors” or lost connections, And I’ll rid those viral infections. Take me back to the old typewriter, Days when the world’s load seemed far lighter. I promise I’ll never eke out a "tweet" When I replace “Word” with a paper sheet. The old “White Out” is still in my desk And it’s never looked more statuesque!
*Written April 1, 2015, for Carol's contest.


Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2015

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For 'Ol Tom Bell --Repost

Reposted tribute to Mr. Tom Bell, as per Christy's call for all who had the pleasure of 
knowing Tom to write a poem for him. :)




How is it that someone can touch
Your very soul,
Without ever having met 
Face to face?

How is it that my heart lies shattered
Upon this desolate plane
Without ever having seen the cause
For its breaking?

How can I put into words 
What I am feeling,
When my red heart that writes,
Is now cold and blue with regret?

You called upon me to share
A past, funny remembrance you penned –
(A bad day at the eye doctor's)
And I swear to you, I tried to find it!
But your long, Tom list of heart words daunted me…
And after a few pages. I gave up.
I told you this, and you tried again to show me
But this dumb blonde just could not find it…

Until now.

I searched and searched until it was found.

It took me until you passed
To read the poem you wished to share,
And man, is it funny!

You had me laughing and crying
At the same time!

I left you a comment
That you will never read –
And my heart cries for being too late.
It is now, and forever will be
on my Favorites list.
I want you to know how much I love
(And will forever miss)
Your true Tom Tales…

Your words brought your kind soul to light;
Your voice wrapped itself around
My heart like vines,
Baring the most beautiful
Laughing blooms.

I am honored to have met your soul, 
And called you friend;
Thank you for listening to my trials and life story,
And for all of your wise advice.
You were the strongest man I have ever known -
You inspired me to shine.

So how is it that someone can touch a soul 
Without ever having met 
Face to face?

Ah, for here, 
Within words –
Within poetry, we meet
Within hearts, where our souls
Dance,
For a moment,
As one
Upon a page of
Pain, love, dreams, hurts, strengths, hopes, fears, and
True Tom Tales –

Thank God for poetry,
And for those we share it with.

Suddenly, all my troubles
Don’t feel so important now.
See? You are teaching me even now,

How to LIVE!

Because you just never know, do you?

You reminded me all we have is today,
This now – and I love you for that.

Rest easy my friend,
Where there is only love
And poetry spoken by angels…





Tom, dear - I will miss you more than words can express, your were strong 
beyond words...fare thee well friend, peace has found you at last. XOXO


Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2008

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SICK STALKERS ON SOUP

Why oh why do I have to learn Of poets compelled to leave here – it causes me great concern There are people who mock us, Then there are the poets here who block us I can ignore them - they don’t cause me alarm But there is a different type of person, they can cause great harm Hiding behind their keyboard, wearing a veiled disguise There are those who stalk, victimise and terrorise They need teaching a lesson and kicking hard right in their flies! I know it’s not just the ladies who suffer this type of abuse Guys can get hooked in and trapped like in a noose These childish idiots need to go home and play with their dolls Please contact soup admin to get rid of these pathetic trolls Please, please, please don’t leave our group We need you here posting your poems on Poetry Soup 3rd June 2015


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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Phone Rant

The message relayed by the computer generated
  voice said my que  in line  would be
 approximately 20 minutes.
 So I had twenty minutes to think about 
what I needed to say.
I ran it over and over again in my head
All my rational arguments and opinions
Then twenty minutes later the voice returns
 to say that due to the high volume of calls
 we ask you to leave a detailed message
 and an agent will return your call in the next 48 hrs.
 So in my best computer generated voice
 I give my name and say, 
Due to lack of dealing with an actual human
 please be advised
 that I will be cancelling my insurance
 with your lame ass company.
 This phone call may be recorded 
for training purposes 
for the next time I want to dump 
a crap company such as yours.
 Do not call in the next 48 hrs 
as I will be out shopping for a company
 with actual humans on staff.


Copyright © Carl Fraser | Year Posted 2016