Best Modem Poems
My Gallery
In upper part of my body
A cognitive bell rings
From a dial-up connection
of live wires
The modem is working just
To repeatedly provide
the facsimile of
Barren and bald paths
Inner lumbering of daily freight
Coiling, clutching upward
There is no vivacity
The vital force has parasited
How I inhale life?
My days and nights are bolted
Inside a brain cell,
My voice has held back
It lays a plan to brawl my soul
Residing in my own skull
Dictates notes imitating my tone
I couldn’t disintegrate my recall
As my shadow has left me
There remains Just I, me and myself,
Why is my brain a black hole?
Could it not be a universe?
Of a constellation of migraine, tablets
Syringe, backache and insomnia
Dream has become a dead pattern
As worn out as fossil led glow
Everything has become identical
Except the weight of consequence
That has variations of endurance
As I go through perdition
My imbalance will be rectified
Hang my art on the wall
As after allotted time
My gallery will end
Categories:
modem, 12th grade, body, conflict,
Form:
Blank verse
I Am Poetry
My pen brings light to a dark and lonely world.
It can also cause tears for all the boys and girls.
My words make people laugh and reach for the stars.
They can also describe a flower or your very first car.
I was there in your pocket, on the way home from school.
I was scribbled on a note, a very powerful tool.
I put a smile on your face, when I talked about old times.
My words told every story, with precision and rhyme.
I can lift you up and make you feel strong.
I can also cut you down and say you don’t belong.
I can make your Father happy and make your Mother cry.
I can find your darkest place, without having to try.
I was there in your hand when your feelings were told.
I can make you feel young or I can make you feel old.
I can be shared with the world through a computer modem.
I am Poetry, I’m in the soul of every poem.
Categories:
modem, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m trapped with a screen full of many colors and diversity
For many years now we are fighting a new battle verses technology
A trust which spans a continent
And we're falling in love on the internet.
Reading inspiring words with which I can relate
Sending a message by email it will never be late
And to find the right way, you took out a huge map.
Now gps signals direct you in a snap.
So set aside your laptop and modem,
Our problems definitely the computer or technology can’t solve them
In the air there is a consciousness of a doomsday predictions
I look at the future and I have to say goodbye to the imagination
I break away ascending to new heights
You have to admit new technology gives us all such a delight
We are consumed by false knowledge of societies,
That is why we are so dependent on this new era of technology
Ahead of me lies a time of science and unyielding compliance.
Mankind is constantly finding new kinds of appliances
So the PCs, laptops and smart phones where under the dominion
Computers now became our new religion
For a successful technology, reality must take precedence over public relations, for Nature
cannot be fooled.
Richard Feynman
Categories:
modem, computer-internet, people, science, socialtechnology,
Form:
Rhyme
Nothing can describe the excitement that I feel.
I hear the soft click as I open my laptop seal.
The whirring of my modem as it chatters online.
My heart is racing as it seems to take a long time.
I am almost speechless as I wait for the solid light.
I've been waiting all day, so I can get online tonight.
The ticking of my hard drive light rapidly blinking.
The feeling deep in my stomach is almost sinking.
I couldn't hardly wait and it made me feel unwell.
I'm almost in static as I hear "You've Got Mail".
-I could not help myself, inspired by Richard and Becca, nicest people you could meet.
-Not written for any contest
-All rights goto the orignal maker of You've got mail and any copyrights are maintained.
Categories:
modem, funny, happiness,
Form:
Couplet
Computer, modem
Ability to converse
In Love at first Type!
Categories:
modem, love,
Form:
Senryu
She waits,
eight black spindles joined at one end by a pivot, a compass.
Each pinpoint balanced at the intersections
of self-drawn polygons.
Legs jointed like the fingers of a skeleton,
deft, dexterous as a harpist.
Body in two sections with ample abdomen,
the African who carries the water jug on her head.
Or an Indian, the untouchable with her caste mark,
the microscopic grains dropping through the hourglass
like drops of blood.
Blind, she has the surrogate sense of a seismograph.
She would feel a disturbance in the web
were it only a thought.
Never mind she lives in a dark corner
as devoid of light as she is of personality,
she needs neither.
She does not look as the wrapped body of her cannibalized mate
as at a gilt-framed photograph of the dearly departed.
The egg sac is not a silk-lined bassinet,
the hanging ornament
to all her future hopes and dreams.
She is absent of frontal lobes,
moralizing modifiers,
second thoughts.
An instrument of logic,
mate=food
sac=young,
syllogisms minus all prepositions,
additional excess cargo to be jettisoned
as the dried shells of devoured prey.
No welcome mats on the front step,
no settees in the parlor,
no cunning seductress with scarlet claws.
Only a modem waiting in the spaceless black.
Categories:
modem, future, insect,
Form:
Imagism
Last week my computer was on the fritz.
The confounded thing was givin' me fits!
Trouble was a sick modem.
They jes' won't work without 'em!
Life sans a computer is jes' the pits!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
modem, computer,
Form:
Limerick
It's five o'clock, she checks her watch, at last the work day's done
Her forehead pounds, a coke is found, she gulps two aspirin down
Walking through the parking lot, a cell phone to her ear
Three calls to make, six texts must wait, until she reaches home
A dreadful day, is worsened now, by a cocktail shade of smog
Too dazed by crazy sitcoms that seem to fill her life,
on an escalator going up or down, to nowhere in the strife
A contrail stream of traffic noise, is brandished against her ears
The snail-paced freeway travelogue, a prequel to the dialogue
that sails into her blue-tooth buds, enhances all that aches
The modem in her deep-fried brain is in a dismal state.
Just blogs of malware, here and there, is skyjacked by the haze.
She fails to see a taxicab, in the multiplex of cars
A screech of brakes, a near escape, it's not her first mistake
The rushing, crushing motorcade, can't stop to see her scars
The escapade, the glitzy parade, no shelter from the beat
The drum that pounds, the sounds that come, awake or fast asleep
The docudrama of her life has muddied up her brain
Dumbfounded, by the life she leads, is lost before it's found
Some think, perhaps the gods are crazy, (at least that's what some say)
I think, instead, it's not the gods, but folks who've lost the way
________________________________________________________
1/6/15
For Contest: "The Gods Must Be Crazy" Sponsor: John Lawless
Categories:
modem, angst, anxiety,
Form:
Free verse
There was only one miner now left in the asteroid belt the man was quite insane
he had been homeless far too long
The map lit up and the FASTERTHANLIGHTBEAMS@ modem on the MISTY WAY
MAP lit up to warn them of the appraochment of the secondary asteroid belt
where the Asteroid 3456227 where the diner was and where they would soon
pick up the falcon yerd lady
Charlockandroidone7 was finishing the inventory on Charlaxes doorpanel
The new android had arrived with the falcon lady on the asteroid.
We will leave the MISTY WAY and be in HYPERNATION space for almost 300
earth years but do not worry MINER the affects and defects of a hypertext transfer
do not effect humans and how was YOUR week gentle reader?
Categories:
modem, adventure, science fiction, space,
Form:
Free verse
This bewildering computer of mine just gives me fits!
I panic when the consarned thing goes on the fritz!
I peruse the baffling manual but that doesn't help me any.
It might as well have been written in Hindustani!
There is no one more computer illiterate than I,
So I must call that guy in India when things go awry!
He patiently checks for spyware and virus infections,
And tests the modem and internet connections.
Today he found no problems during his troubleshoot.
He suggested that I shut down and try to reboot!
As a parting shot he asked if my cursor was working alright;
I reached for the mouse to check - it was nowhere in sight!
At that mortifying discovery I gently hung up the phone.
Consternation reigned - how much more can I condone!
The frayed mouse tail lay there looking so grotesque.
I looked for the mouse on the floor and all about my desk!
Alas, nothing to do but buy another for it to replace.
But wait! Why that Cheshire smile on my pussy cat's face?
"Aha! I think the mystery is solved!" I exclaim to my spouse!
"I think that sneaky scoundrel has swallowed my mouse!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
modem, computer-internetcomputer, me,
Form:
Rhyme
What would we do without technology?
I think we would all fall into lethargy.
I am upset because the computer is down
It's got me running all over town.
Trying to get a new modem is rough
When the provider gives you nothing but guff.
So you say to yourself "Myself I say...
Go get your writing fix in some other way!"
So over to the local library I trot
Where I can hit a keyboard and keep it hot.
Yet, I dread to go home to that box I have there
Because all I can do is sit and stare.
I could pick up a pen 'n paper I suppose
To try and write some witty prose.
But that makes my hands ache these days
Since I learned the keyboard and its simpler ways.
So I am just writing this ditty about technology lost
Because when it's down...my keaster gets frost.
And if any of you have been looking for me
My e-mails won't open so I just can't see.
Here in the library you can't speak very loud
Not the way to handle a furrowed brow.
Because I can't speak, hear, see, or write
I guess I'll just go home and call it a night.
Categories:
modem, confusion, hope, imagination, recovery
Form:
Couplet
Let’s touch lips, and then press together our fingertips.
Let’s get lost in this erotic lounge, where no inhibitions or guilty conscious can be found.
A landscape of romance is the symphony we dance to in this exotic wasteland.
Is this psychosis? This dream doesn’t feel real, I’m beginning to fear the end to our fantasy, and our only hope is to be saved by our insanity. Can I rescue you from normalcy? Come dance with me along the tight rope of mental instability.
Let’s promise each other not to blink, for fear of the ending to this fairytale. Imaginations are truly wild; we are hidden in the forbidden comforts of devious desire.
We are those who can only be found between the lines, a product of an over-worked manic mind exhausted by one too many late nights, the air feels different tonight.
Fictional hallucinations can come alive; hold your breath when you surface, what you’re seeing is illusion, dive back down deep into delusion.
In the aftermath of eternity, through this vision of anxiety, it is hard to escape in this reality; we are in the post-modem phase of sanity, on the edge of turning red again.
We are on the wrong side of our timeline, our impulses are in control, and this must be the borderline. I wish that I knew magic, so I could save you from the truth, and make this story disappear.
Surrealism is so unreal.
Categories:
modem, fantasy,
Form:
Romanticism
Nowhere to go but vertigo
Going vertical on weary tippy toe
Tinker and thinker
Of time traveler gizmos
Warping
Escaping
Jumping ship on life saver worm holes
Colliding lips of psychos doing the calypso
Wearing colorful straitjacket calico
I see everything using eagle eye ego
Playing peekaboo peeking through
The peephole seeing the truth
Behind all the lying people
Who pretend to be sincere and humble
Anti-hero with a mouthful
of marihuana sour diesel
Sweet magnetic mouth massaging
Your modem mental muscle
No more simple fast food rhymes
Overdue on eating your complex
Edgar Allen flow vegetables
Lines like these are instant
Movie star action figure collectibles
Vintage
Classic
Top-notch like a shot of aged scotch
Shocking, leaving a tingling feeling
In your aging genitals
Categories:
modem, art, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
Ham vk4pr
In 1988 I got a puter ,
And it was cuter ,
Than a fowling ferret ,
Yes in the month of may.
Me old commodore 64,
I’d fire up for sure,
And hook up a radio,
to talk to Halliwell,
he was vk4ave.
before the net appeared ,
we had paket radio, with ears,
to-way radio, modem,
and a commodore 64,
around the world we’d talk,
morse code of any sought,
and I’d put up poetry to squalk,
with a punch-up on the way:)
Ham radio died,
cos we was supplied,
With instant contact, right away,
Internet arrived,
me valve radio finals tried, (6146 transmitter tubes)
but she lurks in me cupboard now today:)
the RF radiation in the room can light me fluros soon:)
Talkin' Technology Enter Contest [Enter Contest]
Sponsored by: Natalie Fllikkema
Good on you Coach D!
its like dem puters big bad Bob, H
if ya got a use 4 em you can ride dat hog,
bloody txting me fingers cant do the job,
have to keep on a romancin...
bloody cold here heed a lukewarm chic,
on ya mate,
Don
Categories:
modem, adventureme, me, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
a . = a ~
A salmon run is one of the places to find pearl dew. Dried or undried it is nonetheless stunning in it's composition. Compositions create calling cream. And a dough ball is neither a dream nor a daring drop. It is to be said that one single itemised inked out informant is an information infant. And still the deep fried rice dish bubbles in merrymaking and mirth and is so awesome for otherwise stagnant non smiling cracker breads to rise and tinkle dance upon the side board. Many a kitchen is many a secret sound. Akin to a school but without lessons. Currants climbing created credits. And a circulating captain bird arrives with bits of bread, a harp, a lute, a little jellyfish and a belly dancing buffalo. Sink that into a vase then stand and admire the constitutional composition. And all the while the wild eyed egg is playing hoop da loop with the rye, beans, chips and chickens. But only at sixteen minutes past seven. Hahaha moonbeam moving making meals. Metallic music making mathematical models. Haha modem may mean many times a frog hop. Xxxxx sharp shark angle. Xxxx conditionality zzzzzx
Categories:
modem, bangla,
Form: