There once upon a time was a golden age of internet poetry,
Somewhere between paper and flat screens,
Farcebook was a baby,
Twitter was a text Geek's dream,
And typewriters were mostly starting to gather dust.
Sites were full of graphics,
Very few ads,
Not sleek and stark.
You could even compare it to architecture in the 1940's,
Before all the glass and steel,
When brick and terra cotta still existed,
And Art Deco was new and beautiful,
A visual feast.
These poets were mocked and forgotten,
Those in ivy-covered halls full of arrogance,
Above it all in dusty books,
All the while poetry was living under their noses,
Breathing and evolving,
New and wild.
After a time everyone moved,
The glass and steel sameness of social media,
And I now search the wilds of classic Cyberspace,
Word-Mining the ghost towns of the Cyberpoets,
Searching for treasure long after the gold rush,
Words in all their glory,
Echoes of Cyperpoets long gone or dead,
Yet their spirits linger in lost verses,
Perhaps to become treasures again some day.
It's a race against time...
By: Daniel A. Stafford
**N OTE: This work is pending possible collaborative additions by a long-time Cyberpoet and friend. You'll see it here if that comes about. Meanwhile publication to other sites is on hold pending possible revision updates. - Dan