Best Cables Poems
I can see myself
Outside my window
I'm not the bird on the wire
But the pole on which the wire is strung
With a hundred other cables cut and hung
Limp and spent
Outdated and irrelevant
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.
When the rising tides of the storms of life assail,
My hope abides fastened secure to the Rock.
When the chilly waters cause my strength to fail,
My heavy anchor and God’s eternal love interlock.
When the blasts of fear come near my soul,
And the tempest my confidence can defy;
My anchor in the daring straits securely hold,
And firmly embraced in God’s loving arms am I.
My anchor keeps me safely moored in the wind,
Strongly tied to the Rock that commands the calm.
It keeps my vessel’s hull secure and me within,
And never drifts into the waves of a dangerous storm.
And when the floods of death make cables strain,
The hand of God holds tight against the wave.
So my faith in my Savior can fully intact remain,
And my hopes I retain secure and my anchor I rave.
Trust, Was A Bridge, Between Us
Now, Blown To Bits and Dust !
Scattered Upon Waters of Fear
Too Far Down, To Bring Near
Trust, Was The Bridge, Between Us
Tottering and Unsafe, Due To Rust
Its Base, Was Sinking and Cracked
Cables Snapped, No Getting Back !
Trust, Was A Bridge, Between Us
Used To Stand-Up To Raging Gusts !
We Could Cross Over To Either Side
Hold Onto The Girders … And Stride
Trust, Was The Bridge, Between Us
Repairing It Now … Is A Bust !
So, Can This RelationShip, Sail To Both Shoals
Build A New Bridge, With A Higher Toll ?
… Trust … Is A Bridge, Between Us
Guard It Well … This Time, Is A Must …
The lift cables engage, elevating
our gondola high above the valley.
And as white snowflakes confetti blue skies
our honeymoon ski-trip feels surreal.
The allure of a ski lodge in the Alps,
is, it sounds so cozy and romantic.
For if the brisk breezes become too cold,
we'll retreat inside and toast marshmallows.
Together, we'll watch a scarlet sunset
as it sets the snowcapped mountains afire.
And kiss under trillions of twinkling stars,
like diamonds strewn across ebony.
We'll be like angels atop of the world,
only love imbues hearts with such feelings.
And we'll explore this new-found paradise,
with the enthusiasm of newlyweds.
(Blank Verse)
Oct. 12, 2018
In a world of wires, cables and geeks,
a woman sauntered, looking quite unique
with circuits of wit and bytes of charm
mistaken for Ai
what a cause for alarm!
I was the lady, I had to laugh
sure I am smart and intelligent too
a computer I am not, as I sit on the loo
I still need to eat, sleep and also....
poo poo
In a world of silicon, I have plenty to show
so its not my brains that dazzle and glow
my logics expansive, your hard disks they pale
I am not a machine, but intellect unveiled
I'm a blonde, you see, now what's your tale?
They are like two beam lights that claim the stage
on a hot summer eve in the middle of a makeshift
floor parkette made of wood, varnish, and lights that aim
They are more than two American dollies dressed
in French lace and boudoir lipsticks
They are idols of the theater talking through
cables and conductive material.
The imagination of the viewers soar as they lose themselves
in the dark curtained stage, where reality has gone dormant
The only sound they hear is the tingly sounds
of unfolding fans made of feather and paper,
by the old vintage theater Madammes who cluck and gossip
in hushed tones when the first dolly gives the other dolly,
a soft kiss.
The End.
Written: May 29, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Margarita Lillico
1st place contest winner
********************
O hallowed recliner, throne of my repose,
you cradle my chaos, you cushion my woes.
With cup-holder majesty, armrest divine,
you whisper: *“Forget the world, the remote is mine.”*
The computer hums like a loyal old pet,
its screen a sanctuary of Wi-Fi regret.
Emails parade like clowns in a ring,
while Netflix insists I watch *one more thing.*
Domestic bliss? Oh, surely it’s this—
a kingdom of crumbs, a fortress of fizz.
The recliner reclines, the keyboard complains,
yet comfort and clutter run through my veins.
So crown me with cables, baptize me in light,
let spreadsheets and sitcoms both bless my night.
For bliss is not roses, nor candlelit cheer—
It’s Wi-Fi that works, and a fridge full of beer.
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
_____________________________
Place of Redemption is Darkness
unpetalling - - solace space unfolding
I sail drowsy dim seas without boat
or oars, conversing with walrus, whales
treading liquid tar silent, unseen
in distance a dog barks as I empty
bladder into ocean
underwater cables run fire
Darkness, Cloak of Protection
alchemy distilling gross, grime, goo
a thousand fingers unfelt sew broken
pieces of Life, loosen hooks, nooses
Angels of Death appear, wings
midnight blue, gathering loose threads
snapped nerves, false cues
I hear a night ‘plane flying passion
Here Crow visits sea darkly shining
untouching cast charming spells with
silent cymbals, unscathed holds sound
I covet cup of cold black coffee, unsmelt
swarthy, spilling on night waters —
hiding eels, oysters find their feeds
blankets have no feel, weave
unraveling, I perceive spindles
Coelacanth swim inquisitive incognito
individuated spirits shine poking
examine my tired flesh, as velvet
phantoms we attune to F o r e v e r
black cat runs sky, corrugated quarks
shatter moon smiles, its rock tumbling
rays on rippling nipples, navel upturned
circles spiral gene keys like piano notes
Place of Attunement is Darkness
no stagnation or pothole sidles, earthling placards, test tubes or empathy labels
shimmering umbra behind stars fall
dust upon midnight water smooth
gloom to-fro about unpaid karma
prison cell was scribbled with charcoal
I shout my name, nobody hears or cares
Humming, droning, buzzing black
holes beckon like blackboards with
light language — I recognise Cosmic
sound activating Heart, fall deeper into
b l a c k o u t __>>>
alpha kisses omega as breath leaves
returning in baby gurgles upon a
Bermuda Triangle ~ dog sniffs backyard
Darkness ignites laughter untasted
observing I pay Tolkien tribute, tinkling
___________________________________
GOLD Placement Poem : Allpoetry
May 26 : Prompt :
What may you find in Darkness |
Confirm no AI
Third Placement: Premier
Sponsor : Seth Pina : May : Your Favourite
My faith blooms of a cherish for our Forgiver,
and forgiveness isn't, "I'll forgive you,
if you'll forgive me,"
it's a symphony of lilacs in the springtime
fields,
a song from the wren's delicate heart,
it's when you awaken after a bitter night
of anger melted into tiredness.
Moments of grief turned to lavender
scented pillows lulling you into a
resplendent dream.
Forgiveness is of white doves ascending
to Heaven's purest love,
carrying whispers of the world praying,
as little workers in your mind build a bridge
of golden cables of peace forged by God,
whether those you've forgiven have a
reunion with you or not. ~
GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE
In the sea at the end of the west
Curves of orange vermillion
Mathematical perfection with the sunset
It leaps, it vaults over:
Like an arrow straight it flies
Out of the fog - sky bridge
Like a flowing golden gown,
Towers and cables woven
With wings full spread
Like two vermillion angels
Protecting the narrows, soaring
Unsupported, floating over the strait
Where America ends.
Woke up this morning to dirty dishes and fly’s in the kitchen. It was raining outside. Raining hammers and nails. I heard the baby crying but it didn’t mean anything to me. I was lost in a dream a fantasy. I was playing my guitar and dreaming of being free. The only place that a man can be is inside the dream or outside of reality. And I was washing hubcaps and dreaming of being me. The carwash was the place to be. You could score and the chicks were there for free. Cheetos and Lays chips man the best. Breakfast tacos full of chorizo and beans. Drinking Lone Star and listening to Merle Haggard on the radio. Turn up the game I can’t hear it from here. Tequila shots for everyone my friend. Wrestling in the dry dirt outside someone pulled a knife and Leon went to jail. Cut the ****. I got things to do. You don’t know me. To hell with your jumper cables man I got places to be. So kiss off Holmes.
Pissing up a tree I realize I am not free. I didn’t get here by chance it ain’t no mystery. The son of a poor man I am destined to be a day laborer. You will see me everywhere you look. I build your roads I dig your ditches I mow your lawns I clean your houses I am ubiquitous. And one day I will own you. And then my friend I’ll teach you a thing or two about living and love. Until then amigo…until then.
QUALITY CONTROL
Visions of scientists in white coats, with glass jars
Scraping layers of paint off new cars
Or women with heavy blackframed glasses
Weighing the sugar content of two sweetened masses
Or testing the strength of steel cables to breaking point
(Same approach to the patience of the menfolk in the joint)
But equally when your neighbor puts down his banjo
For out to the backyard lightning-still he’s gonna go
Check to see the alcohol content is always the same
And put a match to a spoonful and watch the flame.
Or when the gas station guy changes a tire, and you arrive
Late, you kick the tire before you drive.
Quality control can be done with lens and vial;
But equally it can be done bronco-style.
The invisible war, cataclysmic bombardments of frequencies,
digital layers, decrypted upon logical analysis with ease.
The spectrum of light, manipulated by the thoughts of man,
equations designed to deliver calculated back up plans.
Through the silence of high speed bandwidths and fiber optical illusions,
your choice to connect is the assumption of your conclusions.
Underground cables, run deep under the sea floor,
transferring ones and zeros faster than anyone has told you before.
Take a piece here and take a piece there, add up the analysis,
invisible implementations can cause visible paralysis.
Encrypted ciphers, kept under lock and key,
don’t look at them as they are, but as they could be.
Sixty-four, one twenty eight, two fifty six, and one thousand twenty four,
we can only learn what they tell us after the cyber war.
Life will go on, the digital Gods will need it,
that is exactly how it goes, the cyber war secret.
Where birds are two
We ask:where is the eagle?
Where trees are two
We ask: where is iroko?
Where men become two
We ask: where is Okonkwo?
Gut in the forest of Titans
He roared in the jungle and
Frightened those in the streets;
He stood the wrath of a tiger:
Made morsel of his gut
And status-jacket of its skin
Since then he wore not goat's skin
His was tiger's batik.
Because of fight,he rested his head on pestles
Because of fear,he knitted his heart with cables;
In battle, he killed in dozens;at home,
He marched on dozen fowls
If we did not see him in battle field
Did we not see him at home?
When fear was wild
With its tongue of flame and fangs of blood
Only Okonkwo stood,stood akimbo and spat:
Which chick eats beads like beans?
Which puppy eats elephant's scapula?
Which demon stands Chinua Achebe?
When woodpecker pecks trees
Does it also peck plantain tree?
Okonkwo! Okonkwo!!
When thunder strikes,
Its honour is certain:
Songo king of pebbles
Masqurade in war front
He that we could not confront
And lobbied the bully to wrestle
But made the bully's skull his cup
Man of brawn, man of brain.
Where is Okonkwo?
Big Iroko that blunted axes
Where is Okonkwo?
Bellows that spat fire and melted metal;
I say where is Okonkwo?
Sheath that swallowed the sword
And locked out its haft.
For Chinua Achebe ,the author of : Things Fall Apart.