Keystrokes Poems | Examples

Epistle

Will pens
(I'd have to think
when last I dipped mine in ink)
and sad to say
pencils go
the dodo's way
become extinct or obsolete
(oh no)
to the average man in the street
as if it weren't for junk mail
no matter how large or small
never mind trees and ecology
wouldn't have no mail at all
when I was young still a nipper
a lot more lively
hale hearty and chipper
had pen pals galore
now they're e-pals
it's done with thumbs
some folks use keystrokes
and I'm not sure
if anyone
writes letters anymore

Your Creations

“Your” Creations
by Lord R.e. Taylor

It used to be a challenge
Trying to be creative
But those days are sadly gone
Now it may take a little talent
A few minutes of time
And the right computer program
With just the right keystrokes
You can be an artist, a poet, or even an author
Or maybe you can be all three
Remember though, your creations will not be yours
They will always belong to a computer chip
Shared with millions of other “creative people”
Each one “thinks” they are an artist, poet, or author on their own
But all are just pretenders not the same as you
No matter how many keys they press

© Poem – XVIII/VII/MMXXIV
LRET

Dancing With Poppies

                              



                                 Dancing with Poppies
                                      9/21/2023






In love with sunrises and sunsets, I began waltzing with poppies with glee.
Then came the stark realization,  that someone might be 
watching me!


For to express one’s spirit so fully is not appreciated in today’s
uptight, online society.
Even, the words “ online society” presented me with base, lonely , staccato keys!


Where we really do not know the other, sadly, only, the keystrokes,  what totally, odd hegemony?
Who is real and who is not~ gives one plentiful food for thought aplenty!


These thoughts are always with me, and play a strange, melodic,haunting,
lonely , cacophony!
I decided to cast my fate to the winds,,dance in sunsets and poppies forever, my heart , its drumbeat, forever, dancing in glorious glee!

My Foolish Heart

Fafhrd, Conan, Tarzan...
They could all beat me in a battle!
But when seeking true love,
I'm the one in the saddle.

But I'm the foolish one,
cause I had a dear love near,
though I took my heart to the internet
where my keystrokes torqued my steer.

In seeking the truest of love,
I was catfished by a foreigner,
and lost everything I knew and loved
where my real dreams swallowed shortener.

My heart is now shattered in a million pieces;
only true love here is covered deep in feces!


Saturday, April 2, 2022
MY FOOLISH HEART Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS

Death Online

Unsupported website…
 wingless flightless bird
 Distant echo of keystrokes past
—lost abandoned words

(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)

Bluetooth Pirate

All my home remotes died today in Spring.
Dumbstruck by 'GreyTooth' the Pirate King.
Who like Harald 'Bluetooth', the Danish Monarch
had a dead blue-grey tooth in his head, a hallmark
of how smart a pirate he was to stage a scam demand
that I pay a ransom to release my remotes from remand. 
So what do I do as nothing works without a remote?
I feel like a wader poking fingers down hole's throat,
hoping to get a reaction from my TV, Stereo and other devices,
that only work to the sounds of remote signal advice's,
made by Bluetooth in responses to keystrokes.
This reliance on remote devices really sucks, folks.

Ice Cold Conversations

When on earth will you call them?
After, they are dead?

Don't you get it?
God made ears for hearing, not texts to be read.

No wonder people kill each other.
They are love-empty inside.

Keystrokes are not the same
As hearing the voice of another.

We won't even talk to a customer rep?
Oh, no..we choose Apps over humanity?

No small wonder, we are human wrecks!
Just pasty, glaring faces stuck to screens.

Or thinking that FaceTime is our way out.
You can't hear their souls', cry and shout.

We, breathing corpses, cold and so mean.
The world's biggest scam, on holy devices,
the world's dream!

And how happy we are to have our children 
be on the same devices.

Where they, too can share their hearts in ice-
cold slices!

            
                  5/11/2021
                      ~1~

No Human Contact Wanted

Don't you dare call my home,
I have no time for you.
Instead, our information we give out merrily,
To Google, Facebook and others unseen,
Of these...there is no lack.

Worse, we don't care if our cell phones 
follow our tracks.
Nor hundreds of ad clicks, those monkeys 
on our backs.
Clack, clack, clack.

Add the government who
follows your keystrokes.
And cameras taking our
pictures like paparazzi.!
Google filming your home?
Sometimes I feel like we
live in the land of the KGB 
or Nazis.

But bent out of shape are we
by robo calls?
And never a thought how equally 
robotic are we,
When we cannot leave our
own voice, God gave us on own 
our phone.
So relatives can hear that
damnable robot message voice.
Hardly,a chance to rejoice!

As humans are replaced more 
and more, 
I helplessly try to stop this
and find it a joy to talk to a 
human in any store.
If you can find one, not on a cell 
phone,that is,
That's hardly a call for yet more 
technological fizz.

People still need to earn a
living, robots do not.
The list is long with those
out of jobs,
As we have become such
technological snobs.
Oh~ my God!

Panagiota Romios
3/4/2019

Rico Suave Ink Style

I’m definitely eraser old skool

My muse keystrokes
are quirky cool

Padawan woodpecker
tap ... tap ... tap
on dense ears of educated fools

Principled pencil-head me
will cursive 
rap ... rap ... rap
on toes of uneducated, dull tools

That’s just a guaranteed 
blot splatter pile
Keep them haters on a Rorschach opaque see
Rico Suave ink style
always got a chest message from down deep

I most certainly be a virtual invisible rebirth newbie

My ruminating contemplations
are plain as the joyous smiles on an infant baby

Grasshopper of the temple holy,
me quantum leap into the great cosmic sea
Ascension space mariner of the Nth nebular dimension

The Infinity transmission Light beacon beckons me,
elevated consciousness is my photon-winged destiny
Loss of ego self is the treasured skeleton key,
that opens the prism door to existential harmony

Purity thought emanations 
is the oscillating blessed yet-to-be
Down-to-earth sleep mode ink
is my stylish font, daily transported awakening
Unknown new name is my promised recurring dream

Ocean Spray

soft keystrokes on a typewriter
make the ink bleed and mark the page
steel-grey and ocean-spray were the colour of my lover's eyes
i remember looking into them and seeing our future together
i held her hand and put it up to my beating heart
i promised to never leave her side
i was always just a call away
i was always just a text away
eight-thousand two-hundred and ninety-nine days
then you said your final goodbye
you closed your eyes for the last time
and i couldn't believe that you were gone
you were the love of my life
you were my Everything

Intermittent-Love

Countless, that's how much,
i've caressed this keyboard
Struggling to type you
Trying to plaster you into a poem

Numerous, that's how much,
Your words drift in echos
As i capture them with keystrokes
Attempting to configure my feelings for you

Infinity, it's how much,
i promised you back then
With the lock of two sets of lips
And crossed fingers behind my back
Because i was told, nothing is ever promised

Measureless, that's how many,
All the times i said i love you
With peaking questions in between asking
"will this last forever?"

Limitless, that's how many,
Haunted nights, tears brimming
All in wonder about us
And the words spoken

166,004 that's how many messages,
On our private app, since 2-4-2014
Talks of love, of anger, of passion
All summed up in a number
Are we infinity?

New World Disorder

A drone files free across an open border
The T.V. watches me
It's a new world order
My keystrokes tracked and my emails read
A terrorist threat if my thoughts were shared
How many times must we sit and cry
Another holy war and I wonder why
You say you want peace so you drop the bombs
You kill another father
You kill another son
Communism, ISIS, The Taliban
Always need a threat to keep control of man
Slowly take our freedoms
Yet you say we're free
I will never be a sheep
I will only be me

Octopus

the Octopus is strong
no longer lies beneath deep oceans
but lingers all around
tentacles flail through keystrokes of the fool
unaware
sunk 
shipwrecked with ***********
we hear her diabolical roar
seeps under
stings with mighty suckers
we swim away only to be sideswiped by her medicine
her unholy device
no match for her biology
tangled in that
eight armed sinister swim

can we win?

eyes
not completely sure
but there's hope in our human resiliency.,

Resurrection

The skilled have fashioned melodies,
the keystrokes of the mind,
proclaiming hopes and verities,
extolling humankind;
colours unbeknown'st to us
do hover and distill,
and splash, now they're synonymous
with God's almighty will.

Might we as students of the art
assume a kindred tone,
interpret measures of the heart
'til theirs and ours are one;
re-craft with notes mellifluous
the stateliness of Brahms,
sonorities of Mahler,
noble men, brothers in arms?

Spider's Web

So here I am again
in redundancy I'll say hello
living life behind this screen
dreaming of a world most obscene

I wait, eager for response
Clicking refresh once more
My world inside a spider's web
in this fantasy I'm still no celeb

I can hear the sound of keystrokes
breaking the silence of a lost voice
Speaking only in the form of text
This part of me the world rejects

I'm at wits end words falling loose
and landing upon so bright a screen
breaking away the ever growing darkness
as my existence fades into evanescence

I'll take only this brief moment here
and wish those of you I remember farewell
For as this night descends to black
It is time that my real life is taken back

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