Long Technology Poems
Long Technology Poems. Below are the most popular long Technology by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Technology poems by poem length and keyword.
.....................GOOGLE
quick look
fact book
TWITTER WIKI
quick thoughts free facts
once short unpacked
NOTE:Each of the above is a FOOTLE ,a two line lines,2 syllable verse with an integral title-Light Poetic verse form,witty,pertinent,topical etc (technically a trochaic monometer and not necessarily in rhyme).
Footles on the otherhand(with an 's' ) is a 'hybrid' innovative sequenced variation that has developed over the years (since 2009)alongside the original definition.
If I had met you in another age, when time flowed more slowly and solemnly,
I would have written your name in vivid ink, on parchment that preserves eternally,
I would have escaped to secret libraries, where silence embraces stories,
On the margins of old volumes, I would have laid down my devotion.
But here we are, in this age of screens that silently shine,
Where affections are mute, yet my soul recognizes your rhythm,
Even now, when the cold light surrounds us like a foreign mist,
The bond between us transcends time, a secret dance of hearts.
In the flow of thoughts, I feel how time trickles like a quiet river,
Every moment with you is an eternity engraved in pure gold,
The world seems to forget the magic of words written on old parchments,
But we find each other, two souls traveling through endless ages.
Even in this century of technology and pointless noise,
Our souls meet, vibrating at the same eternal frequency,
Love and devotion are not bound by time or fleeting form,
But by that deep connection that finds its way to the light.
A complete surprise, the message came through
“My friend I’ve something to share with you
I’ve written a song, and I am so proud
Would you like to hear? Turn it up loud”
Immediate reaction - that’s not your voice
The music, so polished; A.I. made the choice
The words may be yours, and the words are true
So what do I say now? What do I do?
Cos I believe music should come from the soul
Deep and meaningful, a laboured over toll
A computer assistant used to emulate
Trained on the generic styles that dominate
My friend I am happy that you are so pleased
If it helps you express yourself, then it is good indeed
But you’ve played a game, used an app, an A.I.
The creation is lost, a facsimile, a fake I cry!
Maybe I’m fast becoming obsolete
For believing as I do, (do I hide some conceit?)
My old songs sit forgotten and covered in dust
But A.I. can’t have them, I just do not trust
Where is the line in the creative process?
How much credit can you take for the success
Of a song or a story which you merely nudged along
And A.I. is always right, even when it knows it’s wrong
In the middle of the night and all during the day
That phone was in sight in the making of his way
Driving in the car and even at the dinner table too
It would never be that far even in the church pew
He'd play games on it and communicate to friends
He even texted Brad Pitt I mean there were no ends
Buying things on amazon and even ordering food
His friends now all gone in the thinking that he"s rude
His wife would complain and the kids were next in line
"Look isn't that insane" Yeah, just like the other nine
He even rented a U-Haul truck and storage space too
But was then out of luck when his account she withdrew
He screamed out his window, " I have Cellphoniousitetos"
The world needs to know saying He's going to fight this
With so many new data plans out there how can he win
As in the TMobile window he would stare, oh what a sin
When I learned my mother had cancer with zero time to live I went into shock. Like being thrown into another dimension. All seemed surreal --like when the desktop changes setting and display switches to high contrast with the colors more vivid-- similar to euphoria without the happiness so not on the same plane, since the poles were not happiness vs. sadness with degrees of happiness down to an abyss or void. I was flipped to a mode amplifying emotional effects outside the boundary we normally dwell. Like a message doesn't fit into your concepts already known. While i was suddenly confronting a self I could barely recognize, later i realized that this self of responsiveness isn't always aligned with best self but so far away from the recognition of ideals, like a disconnect from the spiritual --the thing addressed by religion-- while I was displaced by my love for science and technology. A realm defined only by logic, so now it was incomprehensible that this person I've always known and could not know life without, would soon to be in the unreal or nonexistence. I watched my mothers entire life passing before me. I could feel the essence of earlier times, the sounds slowing down with each passing decade, playing like a movie in my mind with impressions of my mother thru the stages of her life. Those influences reflected upon her. I saw much more than I could glean from old photos or by events described to me or even seen on TV, which now I scrutinize. Like being in a cocoon i'm just now growing out of. A long time after absorbing the truth that my mother is not just gone, but she's actually dead, i come to recognize that I had been preoccupied by the presence of an unidentified woman, standing off to the side of my mind, silently waiting for me to notice. Then it became clear that this image was my mother, just the self I had not known. It's like she was waiting patiently for me to acknowledge her so she could say goodby. That's when I realized that the years I had spent seeking to find my "True Self" --a self better than the sum of others effects on me-- i now see an answer to a question not yet realized. Our true self is our spiritual self, the total essence of us with our ideals intact, untainted by the toll life takes on us and the purpose others impose.
All around campus there are these little black balls, like hanging
alien eggs. Glossy, obsidian bubbles concealing cameras that
record time-stamped, audio and hi-def video.
Could this surveillance footage ever be sent to parents?
*Imagining letters sent to parents about campus/dorm surveillance*
Dear Mr & Mrs Vionet, we have observed countless kisses,
disheveled morning walks and late night visits which indicate
that your daughter is a scandalous little wh0re. We just wanted you
to know, in case you want to know more. As campus security it’s part
of our business to keep a full, digital record, detailing her sluttines$s.
Your friends in campus security.
P.S.
Would you care to donate to the University endowment fund?
Accountancy
It was a quiet day, I was driving around
with my camera, but not in the mood
to take pictures of my Savannah
which is today a flat piece of land between
to hills that look like the bosom
of a golden queen
I counted trees instead.
When 15, I worked in an accountancy office
mainly because my mother wanted me
to go to work wearing a suit
It was boring for relief I made numbers
into human figures, I thought 8 was cute
the boss didn't, I was fired, and my mother brought
the suit back to the second-hand shop
I went back to school and trained as a cook
on ships, that was ok, but I got bored and
the hours were long
Back to school again, I became an officer doing the books
200 bushes and trees before the bridge
the job has become superfluous,
ships have crew
usually from India, often poorly paid
The technology is called
From the bridge to the village, I counted
of Benafim, I counted 400 hundred olive trees
and 245 almond trees
I want an old Christmas,
The same as years ago;
Carolers singing, church bells ringing,
Children playing in the snow
I want a horse and carriage,
To lead me through the cold;
I'd bring home the biggest tree,
Just like the days of old
Long before technology,
Life was simple and plain;
The true meaning of Christmas,
A season for hope to claim
Before the twinkling lights,
Candles flickered with grace;
Families gathered together,
Sharing spirits by a fireplace
The fresh scent of pine,
Wooden ornaments cast their spell;
Tiny hearts embraced in awe,
For another Christmas tale!
Folks throughout the community,
Assembled as one in prayer;
The old spirit of Christmas,
Casts its elegant flair
Garland adorns each nook,
Snow mocks a silent mime;
Mistletoe and scented wreaths,
The magic of Christmastime!
No fancy gifts or presents,
Beneath the Christmas tree;
Hands clasped in harmony,
Hearts as one with unity
The aroma of a turkey,
Welcomed neighbors passing by;
Children prowled the kitchen,
For a sliver of grandma's pie!
Bring back the days of Christmas,
When Christ was the celebration;
God gave His greatest gift of all,
Peace on earth to every nation!
Your Highness, the Triads of the Milky Way galaxy “Planet Earth”
Have evidence of Your “GRAND” - Grand - Father’s” ‘“ E T E R N I T Y “ ‘
As Your Shrine Shines in the heat of a desolate “Forbidden Dessert of Life”
Crumbled , broken, eroding “ The Shrine of Your Beloved “ FOREFATHERS “
I as YOUR Servant : as the Knowledge , YOU bestowed upon my “Foreheads’ “
The Triads have advanced ; their technology today equals Yours of “ History “
How long before they realize ; the devastation they avoid : they also “Created”
Shall they think they have found the “ Forever answer “ to Eternal, Everlasting “
How do YOU tell them that the Dreams they Dared to Dream, were not “Reality”
Know that they can see the “T R U TH“, in Death, not the DEATH of Your “TRUTH”
The third Planet from the Sun ; we call the “ Raven Star “ unraveling it’s destiny
As they did to the Lineage of YOUR “GRAND - Grand - Father’s” “ANCESTRY”
Will they SURVIVE?, Will they See, Know, Speak and PRAY TO their “GOD”
Do they learn to LOVE one another, to Help each other? To keep History “ALIVE?”
“So VERY SAD to say ; My Friend , they do not Find the Key to EVERLASTING LIFE”
Author's Note : This POEM was Inspired by Two of My Favorite POETESSES
Carol Brown ( My MENTOR ) for Her Contest "STORY TIME " I dedicate this to YOU
Carolyn Devonshire ( My TEACHER ) for Her Contest "Sphinx Head on Mars?
Dedicated with LOVE to my POETESS LAUREATE "CAROLYN DEVONSHIRE"
In the blue light of screens, the soul is lost in a mechanical dance,
Where thoughts flow like rivers through forests of pixels and silver threads,
In a world where dreams are frozen in frames, with no time for dreaming,
And the mind struggles, like a captive bird, in the virtual cage of silence.
Technology steals our gaze, drawing us into its webs of light,
It distances us from the moment of respite, the secret breath of the moment,
In the constant noise of its wheels, we forget ourselves,
We lose ourselves in endless movement, with no time for questions or answers.
In a world of continuous stimuli, we lose ourselves in the hum of the perfect image,
We no longer know how to listen to silence, to speak with the shadows within us,
We surrender before screens, with empty eyes, the soul inert and distant,
We bow to ready-made answers, without seeking truth anymore.
But deep in the heart, a spark flickers, reminding us of what we once were,
And in the silence of the night, when the screen's light fades, we rediscover a tremor,
In the moon's reflection on the window, a call to what we forgot to be,
An invitation to return to the essence of the world, to the unseen miracle of being.