Best Modern World Poems
I hardly recognize this
modern world
for it's changed so much
within my lifetime
I grew up
in a much different place
where people interacted
face to face
not through cutesy emojis
used in cyberspace
to express emotions on the internet
on such sites as Skype, Facebook, and Twitter
having never met
each other
in person
nor do they ever expect they ever will
for the meaning of a friend
has changed
to a numbers game
and how many likes you can collect over
other people competing
with you
on the cloud
meanwhile, the tactile feel of
a hardy handshake has all
but gone
the way of the dinosaurs
nowadays
My thumbs jolt around the bright interactive screen,
little letters appearing with each little poke,
typing way faster than the speed of a bullet.
Then the screen goes dark; i have finally awoke.
The trance of advanced technology is too much;
lives only exist on little screens nowadays.
Twitter, Facebook, and many more distractions
make our long work days quite shorter in a few ways.
The tease of the modern phone is uncanny,
hypnotizing its victims into a stupor.
When one finally comes back to reality,
the intensity of the world is quite super.
The sun shines very bright and burns the blurry eyes,
becoming scared and unaware of surroundings
fear slightly common in those truly addicted.
It feels weird now, as if you have grown horns and wings.
Looking around cautiously many things are seen:
a strange tall thing with green objects on the ends,
a large object with others wandering inside,
just a whole other world un-witnessed by my friends.
Fear rises in me, but it has just been a minute.
Feeling like an hour the phone still hasn't rung;
did i text to someone something i shouldn't have?
"The waiting is chaos in this world," my mind sung.
Then the device rings aloud and relief sets in,
calming my worried mind from the high it just reached.
I peer at the small reply that took forever:
"Hey" appears, my heart thumps like a darkness leached.
My thumbs jolt around the screen as i quickly reply,
little letters appearing with each little poke,
typing way faster than the speed of a bullet.
Then the screen goes dark; i have once again awoke.
Crystal blue water
to swim,dive,play and enjoy
yet no life is there
-Swimming Pool
Peaceful residence
with all amenities,still
missing neighbourhood
-Apartments
Rich colorful foods
prescribed by doctors,still we
do not feel happy
-Medicinal Tablets
Can play anywhere,
anytime, but no playground,
no players to chase
-Video Games
Emoticons,texts
chats,stickers,still nothing beat
the handwritten mails
-Mobile phones
Technology rules
the world and controls humans
a boon or a curse?
Mar-04-2017
Wart of hubris, sweat of cursed
Jealous eyes and greed at worst
Blood from pride, tears from pain
Some wretched feelings from disdain.
Sordid juices caused by lust
One liberal dusting of distrust.
A pinch of squander on path to diet
Then splash of anger from disquiet
Two parts grease; on one’s own behalf
Once can of echo, from mocking laugh.
Grind chains of office to subtly blend
Add some waste from overspend
Ignore the stench and simmer down
Wait for pride to rise don't let it drown.
One last step for this magic spell
Free a poison pen with a tip to quell.
I looked down upon the earth
from a place unknown to man.
I spied a country, a metropolis
And saw the works of mankind.
Hidden among tall buildings
I saw people sitting
Faces staring intently
upon computer screens.
There was fervent tapping
upon keyboards
with nary a sound in the air
absorbed in a world all their own.
Along the city streets
I saw people walking, but not seeing.
Each held a valued cell phone
in their hands.
As they stared intently into them
their thumbs would burst into a
flurry of movement.
Sometimes they would speak
to one another, if only infrequently.
I knew not what to think
for they appeared to have
mouths with which to speak
ears with which to hear
hands with which to touch
arms with which to hold.
But they just walked on
away from one another
not hearing
not listening
not caring.
I turned away from what
I had witnessed
feeling sad and heavy of heart.
And I felt cold
and old.
Written on 6/13/2014
This is not the golden age.
It is the future reeling from
earthquake, hurricanes,
lost innocence, lost generations:
Who will cry?
Their voices are muted
beneath the blare of the trumpet sounders
who cry for justice: human rights,
the environment, save this, save that,
save the world.
They do not see
In the modern world,
after the dark-age, beyond skyscrapers,
escalators and aeroplanes, without concord.
They do not see the muting things
nor hear the muted voices.
In the modern world,
they
do not feel.
History talks about the Seven Wonders?
But look around what do you see
Our Seven Wonders of Modern times
Are all there for thee.
Many have been here for thousands of years
Given many a thought, many a fear
They are listed as i write them down
The first is life, a wonderful act
The womans body see's to that
The birth anew, is an incredible tact.
Number 2 on my list of Seven
Is Water, sent from Natures Heaven
Thats the Sky for you and me
Its Natures tears, as damp can be.
Number 3 on my list of Seven
Its Oxygen, the air were given
We inhale it in, in various ways
General days, and general plays.
Number 4 on my list of Seven
The Animals chosen for Natures Haven
Many a creature there appears to be
As big as a whale, as small as a bee.
Number 5 on my list of Seven
Is this World donated, no rentage given
All we have to do is this
Look after her, don't take the piss.
Number 6 on my list of Seven
Its our will to exist, create modern heavens
As cultures blend to mix their thought
Many pluses, never naughts.
Number 7 on my list of Seven
Its what's beyond Natures Heaven
We need to severely police us first, before our rockets make their burst
To pass our moon and reach the Stars, before we polute!!
Not Wholly as it should be
O holy city set in gold
of thee both praise and woe are told.
To three faiths the troubled home,
we see the spire, the Wall. the Dome.
Where once did graze the kid and lamb
I behold a traffic jam.
In Heaven's name, oh, tell us why
property prices are sky-high.
O meeting point of East and West,
O thou at once most cursed and blessed,
show less of your worst
and more of your best.
This is not the golden age.
It is the future reeling from
earthquake, hurricanes,
lost innocence, lost generations:
Who will cry?
Their voices are muted
beneath the blare of the trumpet sounders
who cry for justice: human rights,
the environment, save this, save that,
save the world.
They do not see
In the modern world,
after the dark-age, beyond skyscrapers,
escalators and aeroplanes, without concord.
They do not see the muting things
nor hear the muted voices.
In the modern world,
they
do not feel.
He was the world’s last gun fighter
And he always worked in drag
Carrying his six shooters
In a special velvet bag.
No boots and spurs to jingle
As in to town he rode,
Just patent leather sling backs
High heeled and open toed.
He always arrived early
Before the heat of the sun
Always so very careful
His mascara didn’t run.
And when he’d done the job,
Left the body on the ground,
He always left so quickly,
Never ever hung around.
The world’s last gunfighter;
He always earned his fee,
And always in the morning so
As not to disturb his Earl Grey tea.
Then he carefully slipped back
Into his other life;
A gas fitter in Cheltenham
With two kids and a wife,
While the police of the world,
Who really didn’t know
Hunted the femme fatale
Of his alter ego.
When the next summons came
In the want ads of the Times
He’d don his Dior dresses
And kill just one more time.
Well it helped to pay the mortgage
And kept food on the table
And a mans got to do
Just what he’s really able.
He was the world’s last gun fighter
And he always worked in drag
Carrying his six shooters
In a special velvet bag
Technological Transition to a Modern World
David J Walker
The Earth comprised of earthy scent
Labored sweat
Grim regret
80 years have sown
The Earth revised by measure lent
The hunters net
A daily threat
90 years have flown
The Earthy prize a treasure spent
A gamblers fret
An unpaid bet
100 years on loan
The Earth receives unearthly bent
The loss offset
A crude asset
1000 years have flown
Freedom is a bird with broken wings in the modern world, trapped in invisible cages of indifference,
Reflecting destiny as a silent shadow, the immutable aspects of existence embrace us with cold arms,
Death, an artist of limits, carves the boundaries of our lives with the chisel of relentless time,
Each human being becomes a prisoner in their own freedom, building an invisible prison with choices.
We are born free, but the irony of fate makes us builders of walls, raising barriers between dreams and reality,
True freedom is not political, but a delicate dance between choice and the inevitable,
The possibility of self-realization becomes a play of shadows and light, a duel between desires and limits,
How we confront our boundaries becomes the ultimate art, a commitment to destiny in each day lived.
In every choice, a window opens to infinity, but we fear to look beyond the bars of habit,
Destiny calls us to embrace its rigor, to make it part of our daily story,
True freedom is a silent rebellion, an acceptance of the inevitable, yet an exploration of the possible,
In this world of contradictions, we find ourselves, both captive and free, creators and prisoners alike.
The modern world
Strange times we live
experience
is virtual
the real is harmful
bad for the health.
The internet gives us link
but our solitude
is the same.
Famous women
do not look factual
like something made in a factory
we tend to be self-absorbed
our feeling and thoughts
are truncated
into a massive none entity
stalking the world
while polar ice melt
and we can cross the seas
on plastic bottles
as seen on the internet
and therefore appears unreal
LOVERS CAUGHT IN THE MODERN WORLD
Culture keeps us safe
Until it fades
Family keeps us warm
When we need shade—
Techno worlds are brash
And spit out
Texting love--
word loss
makes hearts clash
Gives lives a shove
spring roses turn to ash
Leaves lovers wondering
Is this life complete--
Leaves dreamers listless--
stills lovely dancing feet
Blaze the path
wayward lover
Create new words
delicate
something each fragile lip can say
Lovers toss skin
Naked standing
shedding
Naked
Blood to bone
And, amidst the fog
Stand Dazed, Perplexed--
Lose their will to roam
Fearfully Refuse to
Leave the safety of
Their natural home.
Blaze the path
wayward lover
create new words
delicate
something my fragile lips can say
Victoria Anderson Throop
Dec 25, 2012
© Juja, Kenya
In the vast expanse of existence,
Your world, I find, fails to captivate my senses.
Unfortunate days, like wayward wanderers,
Don the garments of absurdity,
Parading their disconcerting presence.
Each dawn arrives with a disquieting aura,
Clad in a haphazard ensemble of potluck fabric.
It seems that a patch of uncertainty
Embellishes every opinion conceived,
Nurtured within the confines of uninformed ignorance.
Amidst this absurdity, I stand as an observer,
With an insatiable hunger for enlightenment.
I yearn for a discourse that transcends
The boundaries of conventional thinking,
Where ideas dance freely and opinions
Are nurtured by thoughtful introspection.
Alas, it appears that such rarities
Are scarce in the fabric of your world.
In this realm of uninformed ignorance,
I find myself seeking meanings
In the corners where wisdom resides.
I long to converse with the enlightened souls
Who embrace the beauty of uncertainty,
Who question, explore, and never settle
For the comfort of blind acceptance.
Theirs is a world that beckons me
With its intellectual mystery,
Interwoven with the colors of enlightenment
And the textures of profound insights.
Let me wander beyond the borders of your world,
In pursuit of intellectual sanctuaries,
Where minds bloom like vibrant flowers
In the meadows of knowledge.
I shall embark on a quest to quench my thirst for wisdom,
Where every step shall unravel new perspectives,
Unraveling the mysteries that lie concealed
Beneath the veil of ignorance.