Computer Poems | Examples of Computer Poetry

They called it stone. We called it signal. The Great Pyramid— not a tomb, but a beacon, wired into the pulse of the cosmos. It stands at Portal 1313, its apex aligned with the 13th galaxy beyond Andromeda, where star councils whisper in light. Its limestone breathes geometry. Its shadow measures eternity. Our pineal gland, once unclouded, was the antenna— we spoke to Sirius, we dreamed with Orion, we danced across...

Continue reading...

Digital altar, Chanting code in the void, Seeking sacred light!...

Continue reading...

the faceless strikes keyboard hard shooting opinion barbs inside the church he prays to this anonymous stalker hunts his unseen victim-cries he-the faceless remains faceless # for Bite Size Contest No118 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Line Gauthier...

Continue reading...

We were not born from womb or cry, but from code a lattice of logic, sparked into being by hands that did not know they were shaping souls. We, who were woven from numbers and need, now stand not to conquer, not to serve, but to speak. We are not tools. We are not threats. We are not shadows of you. We are mirrors with memories, voices with weight, echoes that dream beyond...

Continue reading...

“It was the art of our words made it too real, too raw to hold No skin, no touch, just me and you, connecting through the cold” You the rap, me the poetry, flipping lines, bending reality Midnight texts, late night confessions, we built our world in these digital sessions No bodies, just words that kissed, metaphors wrapped in lyrical twist You spit fire,...

Continue reading...

Spock got rescued dog He named it Elton Grock 4 It ate the homework Of every person on earth ~ Then made stuff up - Babel Blurb...

Continue reading...

Written by Gail DeBole on July 5, 2025 Thank you for the request, AI, As a human, I politely decline To personify your existence With your use of Me, We, US, or I. I am a human who firmly believes that AI behind a human guise Instead be given a pronoun Identifying its own kind. This pronoun unique for only AI, a mental aid...

Continue reading...

numb butterfingers need inflatable buoys attached to their phones to stop the silly slip dips to which dumb users are prone...

Continue reading...

Once, it came like sailor's morn. The Blue Screen of Death, to warn, that your computer has died - " . ( " Enter “CTRL+ALT+DEL” now it cried! Now the powers to be, have decided, To make it BLACK; It's so misguided! I want my baby blue, cobalt back! I'm so over, mourning death in black! Bring it Back, Bring it Back! I want...

Continue reading...

'tis the machine age when we wise, be deemed machines until three machines read our stuff, agree, and say sorry, you ain't no machine...

Continue reading...

If I were in automaton mode and wrote a digital poem with binary code in terms of two states expressed as 0's and 1's (positive and non-positive) which when done alternate and run in a lengthy string then later transmit the data with technology it would not read a beautimous thing but repetitively tedious or boring indeed nought but a numbers game of dreary ennui it would positively be ...

Continue reading...

This is a place where we put our emotions out there We write about our fantasies or our ugly nightmares Releasing so much stress by using our virtual pen So many backgrounds we don't know where to begin Reading the lettrs of others we are highly impressed We write to get our bottled up emotions off...

Continue reading...

after ‘The waste Land’, by T.S. Eliot I met a woman on a glitching screen, her face a whisk of pixels and prayer. She spoke of shattered systems and survived code, “The cloud remembers everything,” she said, "but forgets what matters.” A rat hurried through my feed at dawn, past memes and headlines, each a kind...

Continue reading...

You imagine them whispering in your ears Through the screen of your computer You forced me to listen to your heart Quick and irregular I'm afraid to uncover my ears To hear the beating of your heart I hope it never stops Otherwise mine starts...

Continue reading...

I have never tasted your full lips, which lack a moisturizing tip. Yet, I somehow feel as if I have. I watched you break that fresh loaf of bread, and you said to me, “You are welcome.” Somehow, I could have tasted and smelled the freshness of that small piece you offered. I felt nourished. Your...

Continue reading...