Poems

My Sister Shona-The Night Before Christmas-TV

Here's a little poem I wrote for English that you might like.

My Sister Shona

Some people go golfing,
Other people have pets,
And Shona could do these things
If she got off the net.

All the teachers disapproved,
But her friends thought it was cool
When, one day, Shona brought
A computer, with modem, to school.

My mother and my father,
Were fine with this until
They both saw the really huge
BT Internet bill.

But, by then, it was too late,
The web had become her home.
And her heartbeat slowly morphed
Into a dial-up tone.

She’s no longer sleeping,
And no one really knows
Why she’s started talking
In ones and in zeros.

So turn off your computers,
Or your sisters will be like this too,
And disconnect before it's too late
Or there'll be nothing that you can do.

Here's a poem proving just how much of a computer nerd I can be. It's based on "The Night Before Christmas' by Clement C. Moore.

The Night Before Upgrades

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the PC
Not a program was stirring, not even a GUI,
The hard drives were hung by the Monitor with care,
In hopes that St. Microsoft soon would be there.

The cables were nestled all tight in their plugs,
While visions of upgrades danced in the lugs,
And with CPU on her table, I, User in cap,
Had just settled my brain for a long winter's nap...

When out on the web there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to Microsoft Windows I flew like Flash 3,
I checked all the hard disk and opened IE.

The logo on the breast of the out-of-date GUI
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects like movies,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a pixelated driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his CDs they came,
And he beeped, and shouted, and called them by name:

"On, Flash! Microsoft! Macintosh and Linux!
On, Sony! On Compaq! And all of the finest!
To the top of the unit! To the top of the window!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away now!"

As old programs that before the wild upgrade fly,
When they meet with an icon, mount to the sky,
So up to the hard disk the CDs they flew,
With their disks full of upgrades, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a beeping, I heard on the 'Flash' roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I logged off my PC, and was about to shut down,
A virtual Santa came up with a bound.

He was dressed all in pixels, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with errors and soot.
A bundle of disks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a programmer just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled -- his pixels how merry!
His cheeks were like modems, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was programmed like a bow,
And the beard of his chin full of ones and zeros.

The stump of a pipe was held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke animated round his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a vectorised round belly
That shook, when he beeped, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, going through old cable,
Trying to make my old system more stable.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And upgraded the programs; then turned with a jerk,
I was happy when I heard, with old programs deleted,
A pleasant voice saying: 'Upgrade completed'.

He sprang to his sleigh, emptied the trash,
And away they all flew like a movie made in Flash,
But I heard an MP3, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

TV

Tonight something happened,
But we don't really care.
We're too busy showing
Film stars in underwear.

People may have died,
But it doesn't bother us.
So sit back while we show you
50 channels of pure dross.

Why learn that we'll get bombed
In oh, about four days,
Why not just watch the TV show
About some passing craze.

Of course, we film a show
Showing what we call 'news'
But we consider it a chance
To lie back and have a snooze.

Why should we show events
That go down in history,
When we can give you shows about
Z-list celebrities.

Every day we show things
That are all the same,
And it seems that our intention
Is to slowly melt your brain.

It's time for us to leave you,
But we'll be back, I'm sure.
So just tune in tomorrow and
Get bored to death once more.