Best Ibm Poems
A psychologist is a person who decided to spend a lot of money,
To recieve a piece of paper that says they know everything about me.
Sure I'll talk, but they won't listen for anything but a hint,
Of reason to recommend a psychiatrist to deal me another script.
Psychiatrists are glorified drug dealers hired by Pfizer and their friends,
Who experiment with legal crack and meth to try and make the suffering end.
I studied the mind as well in school, recieving awards and honors,
And learned that western medicine is but a corrupt business at its core.
Psychiatric doctors convincing customers that their minds aren't right,
Ignoring the syndrome of society and its environmental plight.
Pills are but a capitalistic product of this terrible medical field,
When plants can cure what ails us with each season's yield.
I studied government as well in school, recieving awards and honors,
Learning that one reason pot's still illegal is because idiots deny it as a cure.
Sitting in school eight hours a day for eighteen years,
Is what an IBM machine is for, which won't be robbed of human cheer.
Four years of pretending degrees will reward us for our studies,
Left us indebted to unpayable loans and jobs whose minimum pay is cruddy.
So if you want to think my problems stem from a disease inside my brain,
Keep ignoring the economic ties and lies that are making me insane.
Categories:
ibm, anger, health, mental illness,
Form:
Couplet
MEMORY TRIGGERED BY A PURPLE PENCIL
A reponse to Caren Krutsinger’s Pay the Purple Pencil Penalty Please
sick
in bed
not now
then
daddy
worked for
i.b.m.
simpler times
not now
but
then
to soothe
my pain
dad
brought home
a
glitzy pen
decorations
that lit
up
my eyes
danced me
back
to health
poet
in me
perked up,
colors
could have been
kaleidoscopically
whirling ~
a
mirror ball
treasure,
rainbow crystals
glittering
on the ceiling,
tactile
a friend
reminded me
today
of
this simple
gesture
love
accepts
a pen
or purple
pencil
and doesn’t play dead
you
seem “floored”
as you
look up
at the “pirate queen”
she sees the scintilla of your eyelids
peers
into the opening ~
she’s
no
fool
you burst out
laughing
7/5/2020
Categories:
ibm, memory,
Form:
Free verse
There were things of mine in the drawers that could be thrown out,
But I kept gravitating to the things that were his.
His Public School 45 autograph book. It was red, white, and blue leatherette with
a zipper.
Inside was his hand, writing the names of favorite teachers,
And the dreams of the future you have when you are 13.
His father, an old world German who never shared himself,
left ink blotches of emotion under his hand.
In another drawer, the fancy leather passport wallet complete with passport and
photo.
He was 16.
I don’t remember him talking about anything else with the same twinkle in his
heart
As he did about the 6 months he spent in Germany.
Here is a poem written to him on his 40th birthday,
by his best friend in the world.
The gift made so much better because it was so unlike this IBM Executive
to write personal poetry full of memories.
There was an untouched underwear drawer.
Belt buckles.
Cards of love and joy that I had given to him over many years.
A collection of Christmas wallets.
A yo-yo. Gift from a child with nothing else to give.
Old prescription glasses. Why do we keep those? Pocket knives, hankies.
A sweater and socks I knitted for him,
Always said they were too good to wear.
I store them still.
Every drawer I opened, every cupboard, every box stored away throughout the
whole house had something of his tucked away within.
A stray bullet or black powder ball. A toothpick holder.
A cork screw. A flint, patches, pictures of his ‘49 Olds, a comb, a watch, pocket
treasures.
~ Maybe if I go clean someplace safe like the fridge.
And there was the bottle of Zeller Schwartz Katz wine
bought for the coming Christmas season of entertaining.
This is foolishness, hanging on.
In spite of saving all this stuff
the hole in me is still there. ...
But I just could not throw him away.
Categories:
ibm, death, introspection, life, lost
Form:
Free verse
IBM
UBM
ICBM
On the floor.
Categories:
ibm, baseball, basketball, games, high
Form:
Quatrain
I read on my laptop today--
automation is making us dumber,
ineffective, maybe even impotent.
Perhaps it's a conspiracy by that secret
society, the computer brotherhood.
(Do you really believe your Apple is
innocent, and IBM is not plotting?)
Or maybe we should just blame
human sloth, that siren call of
sheer damn laziness which can
lure the best of us to a quiet doom.
A simple proof: hand a twenty to a clerk
and ask him to make change without
looking to the machine for succor.
That blank innocent look he gives you--
"Why me?" he seems to be saying,
and you can't help but pity him a bit.
He is, after all, a victim of mass education.
There are worse victims:
airliners wildly crashing,
doctors killing their patients,
nuclear power plants going
BOOM! and killing the land
for an eon or two, or three.
How like little children we were!
Thinking these machines would
be our slaves, sans the brutality.
But it is we who are chained by
the zeros and ones, we who are
thinking less, creating cheaper,
settling into a cybernetic fog.
Categories:
ibm, analogy, computer, corruption, technology,
Form:
Free verse
In the fifties life was simple
black and white you see
Elvis on Ed Sullivan
came across our used TV
Phones from Mother Bell
Rotary dial straight cords
made way for Princess touch-tones
we now had tele-lords
Sputnik was the next big thing
man walked on the moon
Neal Armstrong declared one small step
we sensed space travel soon
Then came IBM computers
much to our distress
seemed we didn’t speak the language
didn’t have access
Enter Microsoft and Apple
much to our delight
We could talk to all our buddies
whether far,day or night
Email, wireless, blue-tooth
our new communications
talking either neighbors
or to once obscure nations
As I look back and ponder
changes we’ve been through
I sometimes miss approaching a friend
simply saying how are you?
Categories:
ibm, computer-internet, funny, history, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Smoke ‘em if you got them.
Save the bottles for return.
That hippie needs a haircut.
What the hell’s a Lady Bird?
My Christmas tree had bubble lights,
My watch lit up at night.
Four-bits for my gasoline
And Cassius won the fight.
Music was a wall of sound.
A Stingray running fast,
Footsteps left upon the moon,
War’s ended, "Peace at Last".
Paychecks from the mills and mines,
From Ford and IBM.
Farming amber waves of grain
That’s how it was back then.
From all around on Friday nights
The hometown crowd, the football lights.
The pom-pom girls would dance and cheer,
I saw you there far so near.
And though my odds were slim & none
I had to try to make my run,
And never look back on the day
I had my chance and walked away.
The party went ‘til midnight,
Coors and California Dip.
The Ventures playing “Pipeline”.
You said “Let's do The Twist!”.
We dated first on New Year's Eve,
I looked into your eyes.
We tied the knot in April,
We made love until July.
But the world and I spun faster then,
You tried to be my rock.
Me, I acted like a fool.
You said “Its time we talk!“.
I thought I was your shining knight
And you my Perfect 10.
Why can't we get back to be just
Like we were back then?
Throughout time there’s joy and pain,
We can't expect things not to change.
When it was time to leave our mark,
Time after time I broke your heart.
The Texas sun goes down again.
A long day's work about to end.
Forty miles to drive back home
Flip on the light and drink alone.
Damned if I know why it all changed,
Wish I could tell you when.
I only wish that I could make it
Like it was back then.
Categories:
ibm, break up, football, heartbreak,
Form:
Rhyme
A dear old friend of mine of many years was retired the other day.
In many ways I'll miss my old pal more than words can say!
Alas, there was no longer any need for him and his upper and lower case.
Since a computer took its place he faded into oblivion without a trace!
I speak of my trusty IBM Selectric upon which I used to hunt and peck.
Now, I rely upon old Dell and frankly at times its a pain in the neck!
'Twas some comfort knowing that if my Selectric went on the fritz,
That I didn't have to talk to Basheesh in India when it gave me fits!
In his elder years his parts began to show some wear and tear,
And since the dear old chap hardly qualified for medicare,
'Twas getting difficult to find a typewriter doc for his repair.
After all, he and his elderly peers are becoming rather rare!
It was with some remorse that I consigned him to the Goodwill Store,
Hoping someone would give him a good home and life once more.
Now its just this puzzling 'puter and me for which I have little affection!
(Plus, my monitor screen is becoming blurred with whiteout correction!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Categories:
ibm, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
A dear old friend of mine of many years was retired the other day.
In many ways I'll miss my pal more than words can say!
Alas, there was no longer need for him and his upper and lower case
Since the computer is now all the rage - he is gone without a trace!
I speak of my trusty IBM Selectric upon which I used to hunt and peck.
Now, I rely solely on my computer - frankly, 'tis a pain in the neck!
'Twas some comfort knowing that if my Selectric went on the fritz,
That I didn't have to call some "expert" in Mongolia when it gave me fits!
In his elder years his parts began to show some wear and tear,
And since the dear old chap hardly qualified for medicare,
'Twas getting difficult to find a typewriter doc for his repair.
After all, he and his elderly peers are becoming rather rare!
It was with some remorse that I consigned him to the Goodwill Store,
Hoping some less technological soul would give him life once more.
Now 'tis just this puzzling 'puter and me for which I have little affection!
(My monitor screen is becoming so blurred using whiteout for correction!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
ibm, computer-internet, funnyold, computer, me,
Form:
Rhyme
"I think there is a world market for maybe five computers."
Quote by Thomas Watson, IBM chairman, 1943
Through the QWERTY maze fingers travel afar
discover where virtual worlds are,
but a digital divide
locations denied.
Modern day
tide,
such dismay
for those left aside.
This is happening worldwide
but we must neither exclude nor bar.
Through the QWERTY maze fingers travel afar.
_____________________________________
18 January 2023
First Place, Writing Challenge - Andaree Form, sponsored by Constance La France
Checked against Syllable Counter and RhymeZone
Categories:
ibm, computer, internet, society,
Form:
Rhyme
This is for that certain someone who has everything.
If they take an occasional drink, this would make their bell ring.
It’s an invention that will certainly appear keen.
Why not give that loved one an instant booze machine?
This contraption makes fresh hooch on the spot.
Doesn’t this seem like a holiday gift idea that’s hot?
Just mix the powder with water, and voila!
We can have instant whiskey, bourbon, or vodka.
It also makes decent gin, brandy, and tequila.
So take that credit card, and rush out to the store.
Your friend will never run out of booze anymore.
Categories:
ibm, fantasy, holiday, science fiction,
Form:
Rhyme
My first day on the floor as a LVN
I mistakenly agreed to PRN
When I arrived, was sent straight to PICU
Finished out day one up in the NICU
Day two I had an uncaring RNC
She didn’t want to give patient’s TLC
I was asked to go upstairs ASAP
The elevator was out so I arrived SOB
Immediately I was sent to see a PT
and told not to return without his BP
He told me to call the DME
or check over in L&D
“Oh, how did I confuse patient (pt)?
With physical therapist (PT)
The charge nurse asked, “Are you a brand new LVN?”
“Where did you work before? IBM?”
My next patient was none other than the POTUS
accompanied by his beautiful FLOTUS
He’d heard the story of the BP
and laughed so hard he almost was OOB
Don’t worry he joked we are all in GC
Blood Pressure and Bed Pan share the acronym BP
03/14/2021
Written for Acronyms In Couplets Poetry Contest
Sponsored by L. Milton Hankins
Categories:
ibm, caregiving, friendship,
Form:
Couplet
I can go farther than the bar-tailed godwit.
I have more capacity for abstract thought than the IBM Roadrunner.
In stature I’ve been compared to a redwood.
And yet, a single tear eyed look from one of my blue-eye girls can melt me faster than a
snow flake on your tongue.
A pained tone in their voices arrest my attention more than a bunny under a spotlight
When I ‘m not with them for long periods I hunger for their company and thirst for their
imaginations
Together we fly to the stars, jump over mountains and have lots of tea parties.
With them I am Strong.
Categories:
ibm, father
Form:
Verse
In nature's ebb and tide
One thing for certain resides
Chaos at the foundation and flow
A continuous creation abides
Numerical desire lies
Where expression is clipped
A dark grid imposed
Protecting the future from doubt
Seen from a mountain eye
Cities divvied up
Millions of rectangles
and squares
Positive linear lust
Managed with might
Policed with rage
This IBM machine a blight
Chaos is the fountain
Chaos is the truth
Freedom will always break loose
Categories:
ibm, natural disasters, political
Form:
Dramatic Verse
ANNA MILLER’S TAKANAWA-SHOP
Merriam-Webster defines chili as a thick sauce of meat and chilies.
His coworker hungers
for American food - pizza, burgers;
no sushi, please.
Home away from home in the belly
of Tokyo, my husband orders —
“I’ll have the chili.”
Two I.B.M. techs relax and unwind
from their workday. Soon their specialty
is served. (Anna Miller’s known for their pies.)
They both nearly drown in hot soup
as they snorkel the deep
peering beneath the shallows
looking for signs
of thickness and beans. Asks
“This is chili? Where are the beans?”
The waitress bends
over and counts,
“One chili bean,
two chili bean,
three chili bean,”
her wrinkled lips serious.
as the rumble of the coworker’s cheeks,
the shaking of his American suit ripple
under his chin.
My husband asks, “But where’s the sauce?”
The waitress takes her hand,
moving it just above the bowl
in circular magic,
“and chili sauce!”
the eruption of Mount Asama
as she moves tiny feet
to another customer.
6/29/2019
Categories:
ibm, food, humorous, travel,
Form:
Light Verse